ItwasbroaddaylightwhenAnneawokeandsatupinbed,staringconfusedlyatthewindowthroughwhichafloodofcheerysunshinewaspouringandoutsideofwhichsomethingwhiteandfeatherywavedacrossglimpsesofbluesky. Foramomentshecouldnotrememberwhereshewas. Firstcameadelightfulthrill,assomethingverypleasant;thenahorribleremembrance. ThiswasGreenGablesandtheydidn’twantherbecauseshewasn’taboy! Butitwasmorningand,yes,itwasacherry-treeinfullbloomoutsideofherwindow. Withaboundshewasoutofbedandacrossthefloor. Shepushedupthesash—itwentupstifflyandcreakily,asifithadn’tbeenopenedforalongtime,whichwasthecase;anditstucksotightthatnothingwasneededtoholditup. AnnedroppedonherkneesandgazedoutintotheJunemorning,hereyesglisteningwithdelight.Oh,wasn’titbeautiful?Wasn’titalovelyplace? Supposeshewasn’treallygoingtostayhere!Shewouldimagineshewas.Therewasscopeforimaginationhere. Ahugecherry-treegrewoutside,soclosethatitsboughstappedagainstthehouse,anditwassothick-setwithblossomsthathardlyaleafwastobeseen. Onbothsidesofthehousewasabigorchard,oneofapple-treesandoneofcherry-trees,alsoshoweredoverwithblossoms;andtheirgrasswasallsprinkledwithdandelions. Inthegardenbelowwerelilac-treespurplewithflowers,andtheirdizzilysweetfragrancedrifteduptothewindowonthemorningwind. Belowthegardenagreenfieldlushwithcloverslopeddowntothehollowwherethebrookranandwherescoresofwhitebirchesgrew,upspringingairilyoutofanundergrowthsuggestiveofdelightfulpossibilitiesinfernsandmossesandwoodsythingsgenerally. Beyonditwasahill,greenandfeatherywithspruceandfir;therewasagapinitwherethegraygableendofthelittlehouseshehadseenfromtheothersideoftheLakeofShiningWaterswasvisible. Offtotheleftwerethebigbarnsandbeyondthem,awaydownovergreen,low-slopingfields,wasasparklingblueglimpseofsea. Anne’sbeauty-lovingeyeslingeredonitall,takingeverythinggreedilyin.Shehadlookedonsomanyunlovelyplacesinherlife,poorchild;butthiswasaslovelyasanythingshehadeverdreamed. Shekneltthere,losttoeverythingbutthelovelinessaroundher,untilshewasstartledbyahandonhershoulder.Marillahadcomeinunheardbythesmalldreamer. “It’stimeyouweredressed,”shesaidcurtly. Marillareallydidnotknowhowtotalktothechild,andheruncomfortableignorancemadehercrispandcurtwhenshedidnotmeantobe. Annestoodupanddrewalongbreath. “Oh,isn’titwonderful?”shesaid,wavingherhandcomprehensivelyatthegoodworldoutside. “It’sabigtree,”saidMarilla,“anditbloomsgreat,butthefruitdon’tamounttomuchnever—smallandwormy.” “Oh,Idon’tmeanjustthetree;ofcourseit’slovely—yes,it’sRADIANTLYlovely—itbloomsasifitmeantit—butImeanteverything,thegardenandtheorchardandthebrookandthewoods,thewholebigdearworld. Don’tyoufeelasifyoujustlovedtheworldonamorninglikethis? AndIcanhearthebrooklaughingallthewayuphere. Haveyouevernoticedwhatcheerfulthingsbrooksare?They’realwayslaughing. Eveninwinter-timeI’veheardthemundertheice. I’msogladthere’sabrooknearGreenGables. Perhapsyouthinkitdoesn’tmakeanydifferencetomewhenyou’renotgoingtokeepme,butitdoes. IshallalwaysliketorememberthatthereisabrookatGreenGablesevenifIneverseeitagain. Iftherewasn’tabrookI’dbeHAUNTEDbytheuncomfortablefeelingthatthereoughttobeone. I’mnotinthedepthsofdespairthismorning.Inevercanbeinthemorning. Isn’titasplendidthingthattherearemornings?ButIfeelverysad. I’vejustbeenimaginingthatitwasreallymeyouwantedafterallandthatIwastostayhereforeverandever.Itwasagreatcomfortwhileitlasted. Buttheworstofimaginingthingsisthatthetimecomeswhenyouhavetostopandthathurts.” “You’dbettergetdressedandcomedown-stairsandnevermindyourimaginings,”saidMarillaassoonasshecouldgetawordinedgewise.“Breakfastiswaiting.Washyourfaceandcombyourhair. Leavethewindowupandturnyourbedclothesbackoverthefootofthebed.Beassmartasyoucan.” Annecouldevidentlybesmarttosomepurposeforshewasdown-stairsintenminutes’time,withherclothesneatlyon,herhairbrushedandbraided,herfacewashed,andacomfortableconsciousnesspervadinghersoulthatshehadfulfilledallMarilla’srequirements. Asamatteroffact,however,shehadforgottentoturnbackthebedclothes. “I’mprettyhungrythismorning,”sheannouncedassheslippedintothechairMarillaplacedforher. “Theworlddoesn’tseemsuchahowlingwildernessasitdidlastnight.I’msogladit’sasunshinymorning. ButIlikerainymorningsrealwell,too. Allsortsofmorningsareinteresting,don’tyouthink? Youdon’tknowwhat’sgoingtohappenthroughtheday,andthere’ssomuchscopeforimagination. ButI’mgladit’snotrainytodaybecauseit’seasiertobecheerfulandbearupunderafflictiononasunshinyday. IfeelthatIhaveagooddealtobearupunder. It’sallverywelltoreadaboutsorrowsandimagineyourselflivingthroughthemheroically,butit’snotsonicewhenyoureallycometohavethem,isit?” “Forpity’ssakeholdyourtongue,”saidMarilla.“Youtalkentirelytoomuchforalittlegirl.” ThereuponAnneheldhertonguesoobedientlyandthoroughlythathercontinuedsilencemadeMarillarathernervous,asifinthepresenceofsomethingnotexactlynatural. Matthewalsoheldhistongue,—butthiswasnatural,—sothatthemealwasaverysilentone. AsitprogressedAnnebecamemoreandmoreabstracted,eatingmechanically,withherbigeyesfixedunswervinglyandunseeinglyontheskyoutsidethewindow. ThismadeMarillamorenervousthanever;shehadanuncomfortablefeelingthatwhilethisoddchild’sbodymightbethereatthetableherspiritwasfarawayinsomeremoteairycloudland,bornealoftonthewingsofimagination. Whowouldwantsuchachildabouttheplace? YetMatthewwishedtokeepher,ofallunaccountablethings! Marillafeltthathewanteditjustasmuchthismorningashehadthenightbefore,andthathewouldgoonwantingit. ThatwasMatthew’sway—takeawhimintohisheadandclingtoitwiththemostamazingsilentpersistency—apersistencytentimesmorepotentandeffectualinitsverysilencethanifhehadtalkeditout. WhenthemealwasendedAnnecameoutofherreverieandofferedtowashthedishes. “Canyouwashdishesright?”askedMarilladistrustfully. “Prettywell.I’mbetteratlookingafterchildren,though.I’vehadsomuchexperienceatthat.It’ssuchapityyouhaven’tanyhereformetolookafter.” “Idon’tfeelasifIwantedanymorechildrentolookafterthanI’vegotatpresent. YOU’REproblemenoughinallconscience. What’stobedonewithyouIdon’tknow.Matthewisamostridiculousman.” “Ithinkhe’slovely,”saidAnnereproachfully.“Heissoverysympathetic.Hedidn’tmindhowmuchItalked—heseemedtolikeit.IfeltthathewasakindredspiritassoonaseverIsawhim.” “You’rebothqueerenough,ifthat’swhatyoumeanbykindredspirits,”saidMarillawithasniff.“Yes,youmaywashthedishes. Takeplentyofhotwater,andbesureyoudrythemwell. I’vegotenoughtoattendtothismorningforI’llhavetodriveovertoWhiteSandsintheafternoonandseeMrs.Spencer. You’llcomewithmeandwe’llsettlewhat’stobedonewithyou. Afteryou’vefinishedthedishesgoup-stairsandmakeyourbed.” Annewashedthedishesdeftlyenough,asMarillawhokeptasharpeyeontheprocess,discerned. Lateronshemadeherbedlesssuccessfully,forshehadneverlearnedtheartofwrestlingwithafeathertick. Butiswasdonesomehowandsmootheddown;andthenMarilla,togetridofher,toldhershemightgoout-of-doorsandamuseherselfuntildinnertime. Anneflewtothedoor,facealight,eyesglowing. Ontheverythresholdshestoppedshort,wheeledabout,camebackandsatdownbythetable,lightandglowaseffectuallyblottedoutasifsomeonehadclappedanextinguisheronher. “What’sthematternow?”demandedMarilla. “Idon’tdaregoout,”saidAnne,inthetoneofamartyrrelinquishingallearthlyjoys. “IfIcan’tstayherethereisnouseinmylovingGreenGables. AndifIgooutthereandgetacquaintedwithallthosetreesandflowersandtheorchardandthebrookI’llnotbeabletohelplovingit. It’shardenoughnow,soIwon’tmakeitanyharder. Iwanttogooutsomuch—everythingseemstobecallingtome,‘Anne,Anne,comeouttous. Anne,Anne,wewantaplaymate’—butit’sbetternot. Thereisnouseinlovingthingsifyouhavetobetornfromthem,isthere? Andit’ssohardtokeepfromlovingthings,isn’tit? ThatwaswhyIwassogladwhenIthoughtIwasgoingtolivehere. IthoughtI’dhavesomanythingstoloveandnothingtohinderme.Butthatbriefdreamisover. Iamresignedtomyfatenow,soIdon’tthinkI’llgooutforfearI’llgetunresignedagain. Whatisthenameofthatgeraniumonthewindow-sill,please?” “That’stheapple-scentedgeranium.” “Oh,Idon’tmeanthatsortofaname.Imeanjustanameyougaveityourself.Didn’tyougiveitaname?MayIgiveitonethen? MayIcallit—letmesee—Bonnywoulddo—mayIcallitBonnywhileI’mhere?Oh,doletme!” “Goodness,Idon’tcare.Butwhereonearthisthesenseofnamingageranium?” “Oh,Ilikethingstohavehandleseveniftheyareonlygeraniums.Itmakesthemseemmorelikepeople. Howdoyouknowbutthatithurtsageranium’sfeelingsjusttobecalledageraniumandnothingelse? Youwouldn’tliketobecallednothingbutawomanallthetime.Yes,IshallcallitBonny. Inamedthatcherry-treeoutsidemybedroomwindowthismorning. IcalleditSnowQueenbecauseitwassowhite. Ofcourse,itwon’talwaysbeinblossom,butonecanimaginethatitis,can’tone?” “Ineverinallmylifesayorheardanythingtoequalher,”mutteredMarilla,beatingaretreatdowntothecellarafterpotatoes. “SheiskindofinterestingasMatthewsays. IcanfeelalreadythatI’mwonderingwhatonearthshe’llsaynext.She’llbecastingaspelloverme,too.She’scastitoverMatthew. Thatlookhegavemewhenhewentoutsaideverythinghesaidorhintedlastnightoveragain. Iwishhewaslikeothermenandwouldtalkthingsout. Abodycouldanswerbackthenandarguehimintoreason. Butwhat’stobedonewithamanwhojustLOOKS?” Annehadrelapsedintoreverie,withherchininherhandsandhereyesonthesky,whenMarillareturnedfromhercellarpilgrimage.ThereMarillaleftheruntiltheearlydinnerwasonthetable. “IsupposeIcanhavethemareandbuggythisafternoon,Matthew?”saidMarilla. MatthewnoddedandlookedwistfullyatAnne.Marillainterceptedthelookandsaidgrimly: “I’mgoingtodriveovertoWhiteSandsandsettlethisthing. I’lltakeAnnewithmeandMrs.SpencerwillprobablymakearrangementstosendherbacktoNovaScotiaatonce. I’llsetyourteaoutforyouandI’llbehomeintimetomilkthecows.” StillMatthewsaidnothingandMarillahadasenseofhavingwastedwordsandbreath.Thereisnothingmoreaggravatingthanamanwhowon’ttalkback—unlessitisawomanwhowon’t. MatthewhitchedthesorrelintothebuggyinduetimeandMarillaandAnnesetoff. Matthewopenedtheyardgateforthemandastheydroveslowlythrough,hesaid,tonobodyinparticularasitseemed: “LittleJerryBuotefromtheCreekwasherethismorning,andItoldhimIguessedI’dhirehimforthesummer.” Marillamadenoreply,butshehittheunluckysorrelsuchaviciousclipwiththewhipthatthefatmare,unusedtosuchtreatment,whizzedindignantlydownthelaneatanalarmingpace. MarillalookedbackonceasthebuggybouncedalongandsawthataggravatingMatthewleaningoverthegate,lookingwistfullyafterthem. 
