Chapter V
Letters from Home
For the next three weeks Anne and Priscilla continued to feel asstrangers in a strange land. Then, suddenly, everything seemed to fallinto focus--Redmond, professors, classes, students, studies, socialdoings. Life became homogeneous again, instead of being made up ofdetached fragments. The Freshmen, instead of being a collection ofunrelated individuals, found themselves a class, with a class spirit, aclass yell, class interests, class antipathies and class ambitions.They won the day in the annual "Arts Rush" against the Sophomores,and thereby gained the respect of all the classes, and an enormous,confidence-giving opinion of themselves. For three years the Sophomoreshad won in the "rush"; that the victory of this year perched upon theFreshmen's banner was attributed to the strategic generalship of GilbertBlythe, who marshalled the campaign and originated certain new tactics,which demoralized the Sophs and swept the Freshmen to triumph. Asa reward of merit he was elected president of the Freshman Class, aposition of honor and responsibility--from a Fresh point of view,at least--coveted by many. He was also invited to join the"Lambs"--Redmondese for Lamba Theta--a compliment rarely paid to aFreshman. As a preparatory initiation ordeal he had to parade theprincipal business streets of Kingsport for a whole day wearing asunbonnet and a voluminous kitchen apron of gaudily flowered calico.This he did cheerfully, doffing his sunbonnet with courtly grace when hemet ladies of his acquaintance. Charlie Sloane, who had not been askedto join the Lambs, told Anne he did not see how Blythe could do it, andHE, for his part, could never humiliate himself so.
"Fancy Charlie Sloane in a 'caliker' apron and a 'sunbunnit,'" giggledPriscilla. "He'd look exactly like his old Grandmother Sloane.Gilbert, now, looked as much like a man in them as in his own properhabiliments."
Anne and Priscilla found themselves in the thick of the social life ofRedmond. That this came about so speedily was due in great measure toPhilippa Gordon. Philippa was the daughter of a rich and well-known man,and belonged to an old and exclusive "Bluenose" family. This, combinedwith her beauty and charm--a charm acknowledged by all who mether--promptly opened the gates of all cliques, clubs and classes inRedmond to her; and where she went Anne and Priscilla went, too. Phil"adored" Anne and Priscilla, especially Anne. She was a loyal littlesoul, crystal-free from any form of snobbishness. "Love me, love myfriends" seemed to be her unconscious motto. Without effort, she tookthem with her into her ever widening circle of acquaintanceship, and thetwo Avonlea girls found their social pathway at Redmond made veryeasy and pleasant for them, to the envy and wonderment of the otherfreshettes, who, lacking Philippa's sponsorship, were doomed to remainrather on the fringe of things during their first college year.
To Anne and Priscilla, with their more serious views of life, Philremained the amusing, lovable baby she had seemed on their firstmeeting. Yet, as she said herself, she had "heaps" of brains. When orwhere she found time to study was a mystery, for she seemed always indemand for some kind of "fun," and her home evenings were crowdedwith callers. She had all the "beaux" that heart could desire, fornine-tenths of the Freshmen and a big fraction of all the other classeswere rivals for her smiles. She was naively delighted over this, andgleefully recounted each new conquest to Anne and Priscilla, withcomments that might have made the unlucky lover's ears burn fiercely.
"Alec and Alonzo don't seem to have any serious rival yet," remarkedAnne, teasingly.
"Not one," agreed Philippa. "I write them both every week and tellthem all about my young men here. I'm sure it must amuse them. But, ofcourse, the one I like best I can't get. Gilbert Blythe won't take anynotice of me, except to look at me as if I were a nice little kittenhe'd like to pat. Too well I know the reason. I owe you a grudge, QueenAnne. I really ought to hate you and instead I love you madly, and I'mmiserable if I don't see you every day. You're different from any girlI ever knew before. When you look at me in a certain way I feel what aninsignificant, frivolous little beast I am, and I long to be betterand wiser and stronger. And then I make good resolutions; but the firstnice-looking mannie who comes my way knocks them all out of my head.Isn't college life magnificent? It's so funny to think I hated it thatfirst day. But if I hadn't I might never got really acquainted with you.Anne, please tell me over again that you like me a little bit. I yearnto hear it."
"I like you a big bit--and I think you're a dear, sweet, adorable,velvety, clawless, little--kitten," laughed Anne, "but I don't see whenyou ever get time to learn your lessons."
Phil must have found time for she held her own in every class of heryear. Even the grumpy old professor of Mathematics, who detested coeds,and had bitterly opposed their admission to Redmond, couldn't floor her.She led the freshettes everywhere, except in English, where Anne Shirleyleft her far behind. Anne herself found the studies of her Freshman yearvery easy, thanks in great part to the steady work she and Gilbert hadput in during those two past years in Avonlea. This left her more timefor a social life which she thoroughly enjoyed. But never for a momentdid she forget Avonlea and the friends there. To her, the happiestmoments in each week were those in which letters came from home. Itwas not until she had got her first letters that she began to thinkshe could ever like Kingsport or feel at home there. Before they came,Avonlea had seemed thousands of miles away; those letters brought itnear and linked the old life to the new so closely that they began toseem one and the same, instead of two hopelessly segregated existences.The first batch contained six letters, from Jane Andrews, Ruby Gillis,Diana Barry, Marilla, Mrs. Lynde and Davy. Jane's was a copperplateproduction, with every "t" nicely crossed and every "i" preciselydotted, and not an interesting sentence in it. She never mentioned theschool, concerning which Anne was avid to hear; she never answered oneof the questions Anne had asked in her letter. But she told Anne howmany yards of lace she had recently crocheted, and the kind of weatherthey were having in Avonlea, and how she intended to have her new dressmade, and the way she felt when her head ached. Ruby Gillis wrote agushing epistle deploring Anne's absence, assuring her she was horriblymissed in everything, asking what the Redmond "fellows" were like, andfilling the rest with accounts of her own harrowing experiences with hernumerous admirers. It was a silly, harmless letter, and Anne would havelaughed over it had it not been for the postscript. "Gilbert seems to beenjoying Redmond, judging from his letters," wrote Ruby. "I don't thinkCharlie is so stuck on it."
So Gilbert was writing to Ruby! Very well. He had a perfect right to,of course. Only--!! Anne did not know that Ruby had written the firstletter and that Gilbert had answered it from mere courtesy. She tossedRuby's letter aside contemptuously. But it took all Diana's breezy,newsy, delightful epistle to banish the sting of Ruby's postscript.Diana's letter contained a little too much Fred, but was otherwisecrowded and crossed with items of interest, and Anne almost felt herselfback in Avonlea while reading it. Marilla's was a rather prim andcolorless epistle, severely innocent of gossip or emotion. Yet somehowit conveyed to Anne a whiff of the wholesome, simple life at GreenGables, with its savor of ancient peace, and the steadfast abiding lovethat was there for her. Mrs. Lynde's letter was full of church news.Having broken up housekeeping, Mrs. Lynde had more time than ever todevote to church affairs and had flung herself into them heart and soul.She was at present much worked up over the poor "supplies" they werehaving in the vacant Avonlea pulpit.
"I don't believe any but fools enter the ministry nowadays," she wrotebitterly. "Such candidates as they have sent us, and such stuff asthey preach! Half of it ain't true, and, what's worse, it ain't sounddoctrine. The one we have now is the worst of the lot. He mostly takesa text and preaches about something else. And he says he doesn't believeall the heathen will be eternally lost. The idea! If they won't all themoney we've been giving to Foreign Missions will be clean wasted, that'swhat! Last Sunday night he announced that next Sunday he'd preach on theaxe-head that swam. I think he'd better confine himself to the Bible andleave sensational subjects alone. Things have come to a pretty pass ifa minister can't find enough
in Holy Writ to preach about, that's what.What church do you attend, Anne? I hope you go regularly. People are aptto get so careless about church-going away from home, and I understandcollege students are great sinners in this respect. I'm told many ofthem actually study their lessons on Sunday. I hope you'll never sinkthat low, Anne. Remember how you were brought up. And be very carefulwhat friends you make. You never know what sort of creatures are in themcolleges. Outwardly they may be as whited sepulchers and inwardly asravening wolves, that's what. You'd better not have anything to say toany young man who isn't from the Island.
"I forgot to tell you what happened the day the minister called here. Itwas the funniest thing I ever saw. I said to Marilla, 'If Anne had beenhere wouldn't she have had a laugh?' Even Marilla laughed. You know he'sa very short, fat little man with bow legs. Well, that old pig of Mr.Harrison's--the big, tall one--had wandered over here that day again andbroke into the yard, and it got into the back porch, unbeknowns to us,and it was there when the minister appeared in the doorway. It made onewild bolt to get out, but there was nowhere to bolt to except betweenthem bow legs. So there it went, and, being as it was so big and theminister so little, it took him clean off his feet and carried him away.His hat went one way and his cane another, just as Marilla and I got tothe door. I'll never forget the look of him. And that poor pig was nearscared to death. I'll never be able to read that account in the Bibleof the swine that rushed madly down the steep place into the sea withoutseeing Mr. Harrison's pig careering down the hill with that minister. Iguess the pig thought he had the Old Boy on his back instead of insideof him. I was thankful the twins weren't about. It wouldn't have beenthe right thing for them to have seen a minister in such an undignifiedpredicament. Just before they got to the brook the minister jumped offor fell off. The pig rushed through the brook like mad and up throughthe woods. Marilla and I run down and helped the minister get up andbrush his coat. He wasn't hurt, but he was mad. He seemed to holdMarilla and me responsible for it all, though we told him the pig didn'tbelong to us, and had been pestering us all summer. Besides, what did hecome to the back door for? You'd never have caught Mr. Allan doing that.It'll be a long time before we get a man like Mr. Allan. But it's anill wind that blows no good. We've never seen hoof or hair of that pigsince, and it's my belief we never will.
"Things is pretty quiet in Avonlea. I don't find Green Gables aslonesome as I expected. I think I'll start another cotton warp quiltthis winter. Mrs. Silas Sloane has a handsome new apple-leaf pattern.
"When I feel that I must have some excitement I read the murder trialsin that Boston paper my niece sends me. I never used to do it, butthey're real interesting. The States must be an awful place. I hopeyou'll never go there, Anne. But the way girls roam over the earth nowis something terrible. It always makes me think of Satan in the Book ofJob, going to and fro and walking up and down. I don't believe the Lordever intended it, that's what.
"Davy has been pretty good since you went away. One day he was bad andMarilla punished him by making him wear Dora's apron all day, and thenhe went and cut all Dora's aprons up. I spanked him for that and then hewent and chased my rooster to death.
"The MacPhersons have moved down to my place. She's a great housekeeperand very particular. She's rooted all my June lilies up because she saysthey make a garden look so untidy. Thomas set them lilies out when wewere married. Her husband seems a nice sort of a man, but she can't getover being an old maid, that's what.
"Don't study too hard, and be sure and put your winter underclothes onas soon as the weather gets cool. Marilla worries a lot about you, but Itell her you've got a lot more sense than I ever thought you would haveat one time, and that you'll be all right."
Davy's letter plunged into a grievance at the start.
"Dear anne, please write and tell marilla not to tie me to the rale ofthe bridge when I go fishing the boys make fun of me when she does. Itsawful lonesome here without you but grate fun in school. Jane andrewsis crosser than you. I scared mrs. lynde with a jacky lantern last nite.She was offel mad and she was mad cause I chased her old rooster roundthe yard till he fell down ded. I didn't mean to make him fall down ded.What made him die, anne, I want to know. mrs. lynde threw him into thepig pen she mite of sold him to mr. blair. mr. blair is giving 50 senseapeace for good ded roosters now. I herd mrs. lynde asking the ministerto pray for her. What did she do that was so bad, anne, I want to know.I've got a kite with a magnificent tail, anne. Milty bolter told me agrate story in school yesterday. it is troo. old Joe Mosey and Leon wereplaying cards one nite last week in the woods. The cards were on a stumpand a big black man bigger than the trees come along and grabbed thecards and the stump and disapered with a noys like thunder. Ill bet theywere skared. Milty says the black man was the old harry. was he, anne, Iwant to know. Mr. kimball over at spenservale is very sick and will haveto go to the hospitable. please excuse me while I ask marilla if thatsspelled rite. Marilla says its the silem he has to go to not the otherplace. He thinks he has a snake inside of him. whats it like to have asnake inside of you, anne. I want to know. mrs. lawrence bell is sickto. mrs. lynde says that all that is the matter with her is that shethinks too much about her insides."
"I wonder," said Anne, as she folded up her letters, "what Mrs. Lyndewould think of Philippa."
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