English
“Well,howdoyoulikethem?”saidMarilla.
Annewasstandinginthegableroom,lookingsolemnlyatthreenewdressesspreadoutonthebed.
OnewasofsnuffycoloredginghamwhichMarillahadbeentemptedtobuyfromapeddlertheprecedingsummerbecauseitlookedsoserviceable;onewasofblack-and-whitecheckeredsateenwhichshehadpickedupatabargaincounterinthewinter;andonewasastiffprintofanuglyblueshadewhichshehadpurchasedthatweekataCarmodystore.
Shehadmadethemupherself,andtheywereallmadealike—plainskirtsfulledtightlytoplainwaists,withsleevesasplainaswaistandskirtandtightassleevescouldbe.
“I’llimaginethatIlikethem,”saidAnnesoberly.
“Idon’twantyoutoimagineit,”saidMarilla,offended.“Oh,Icanseeyoudon’tlikethedresses!Whatisthematterwiththem?Aren’ttheyneatandcleanandnew?”
“Yes.”
“Thenwhydon’tyoulikethem?”
“They’re—they’renot—pretty,”saidAnnereluctantly.
“Pretty!”Marillasniffed.
“Ididn’ttroublemyheadaboutgettingprettydressesforyou.
Idon’tbelieveinpamperingvanity,Anne,I’lltellyouthatrightoff.
Thosedressesaregood,sensible,serviceabledresses,withoutanyfrillsorfurbelowsaboutthem,andthey’reallyou’llgetthissummer.
Thebrownginghamandtheblueprintwilldoyouforschoolwhenyoubegintogo.
ThesateenisforchurchandSundayschool.
I’llexpectyoutokeepthemneatandcleanandnottotearthem.
Ishouldthinkyou’dbegratefultogetmostanythingafterthoseskimpywinceythingsyou’vebeenwearing.”
“Oh,IAMgrateful,”protestedAnne.“ButI’dbeeversomuchgratefullerif—ifyou’dmadejustoneofthemwithpuffedsleeves.Puffedsleevesaresofashionablenow.
Itwouldgivemesuchathrill,Marilla,justtowearadresswithpuffedsleeves.”
“Well,you’llhavetodowithoutyourthrill.Ihadn’tanymaterialtowasteonpuffedsleeves.Ithinktheyareridiculous-lookingthingsanyhow.Iprefertheplain,sensibleones.”
“ButI’dratherlookridiculouswheneverybodyelsedoesthanplainandsensibleallbymyself,”persistedAnnemournfully.
“Trustyouforthat!Well,hangthosedressescarefullyupinyourcloset,andthensitdownandlearntheSundayschoollesson.
IgotaquarterlyfromMr.Bellforyouandyou’llgotoSundayschooltomorrow,”saidMarilla,disappearingdownstairsinhighdudgeon.
Anneclaspedherhandsandlookedatthedresses.
“Ididhopetherewouldbeawhiteonewithpuffedsleeves,”shewhispereddisconsolately.
“Iprayedforone,butIdidn’tmuchexpectitonthataccount.
Ididn’tsupposeGodwouldhavetimetobotheraboutalittleorphangirl’sdress.
IknewI’djusthavetodependonMarillaforit.
Well,fortunatelyIcanimaginethatoneofthemisofsnow-whitemuslinwithlovelylacefrillsandthree-puffedsleeves.”
ThenextmorningwarningsofasickheadachepreventedMarillafromgoingtoSunday-schoolwithAnne.
“You’llhavetogodownandcallforMrs.Lynde,Anne.”shesaid.
“She’llseethatyougetintotherightclass.Now,mindyoubehaveyourselfproperly.
StaytopreachingafterwardsandaskMrs.Lyndetoshowyouourpew.Here’sacentforcollection.Don’tstareatpeopleanddon’tfidget.
Ishallexpectyoutotellmethetextwhenyoucomehome.”
Annestartedoffirreproachable,arrayedinthestiffblack-and-whitesateen,which,whiledecentasregardslengthandcertainlynotopentothechargeofskimpiness,contrivedtoemphasizeeverycornerandangleofherthinfigure.
Herhatwasalittle,flat,glossy,newsailor,theextremeplainnessofwhichhadlikewisemuchdisappointedAnne,whohadpermittedherselfsecretvisionsofribbonandflowers.
Thelatter,however,weresuppliedbeforeAnnereachedthemainroad,forbeingconfrontedhalfwaydownthelanewithagoldenfrenzyofwind-stirredbuttercupsandagloryofwildroses,Annepromptlyandliberallygarlandedherhatwithaheavywreathofthem.
WhateverotherpeoplemighthavethoughtoftheresultitsatisfiedAnne,andshetrippedgailydowntheroad,holdingherruddyheadwithitsdecorationofpinkandyellowveryproudly.
WhenshehadreachedMrs.Lynde’shouseshefoundthatladygone.
Nothingdaunted,Anneproceededonwardtothechurchalone.
Intheporchshefoundacrowdoflittlegirls,allmoreorlessgailyattiredinwhitesandbluesandpinks,andallstaringwithcuriouseyesatthisstrangerintheirmidst,withherextraordinaryheadadornment.
AvonlealittlegirlshadalreadyheardqueerstoriesaboutAnne.
Mrs.Lyndesaidshehadanawfultemper;JerryBuote,thehiredboyatGreenGables,saidshetalkedallthetimetoherselfortothetreesandflowerslikeacrazygirl.
Theylookedatherandwhisperedtoeachotherbehindtheirquarterlies.
Nobodymadeanyfriendlyadvances,thenorlateronwhentheopeningexerciseswereoverandAnnefoundherselfinMissRogerson’sclass.
MissRogersonwasamiddle-agedladywhohadtaughtaSunday-schoolclassfortwentyyears.
Hermethodofteachingwastoasktheprintedquestionsfromthequarterlyandlooksternlyoveritsedgeattheparticularlittlegirlshethoughtoughttoanswerthequestion.
ShelookedveryoftenatAnne,andAnne,thankstoMarilla’sdrilling,answeredpromptly;butitmaybequestionedifsheunderstoodverymuchabouteitherquestionoranswer.
ShedidnotthinkshelikedMissRogerson,andshefeltverymiserable;everyotherlittlegirlintheclasshadpuffedsleeves.Annefeltthatlifewasreallynotworthlivingwithoutpuffedsleeves.
“Well,howdidyoulikeSundayschool?”MarillawantedtoknowwhenAnnecamehome.Herwreathhavingfaded,Annehaddiscardeditinthelane,soMarillawassparedtheknowledgeofthatforatime.
“Ididn’tlikeitabit.Itwashorrid.”
“AnneShirley!”saidMarillarebukingly.
Annesatdownontherockerwithalongsigh,kissedoneofBonny’sleaves,andwavedherhandtoablossomingfuchsia.
“TheymighthavebeenlonesomewhileIwasaway,”sheexplained.“AndnowabouttheSundayschool.Ibehavedwell,justasyoutoldme.
Mrs.Lyndewasgone,butIwentrightonmyself.
Iwentintothechurch,withalotofotherlittlegirls,andIsatinthecornerofapewbythewindowwhiletheopeningexerciseswenton.Mr.Bellmadeanawfullylongprayer.
IwouldhavebeendreadfullytiredbeforehegotthroughifIhadn’tbeensittingbythatwindow.
ButitlookedrightoutontheLakeofShiningWaters,soIjustgazedatthatandimaginedallsortsofsplendidthings.”
“Youshouldn’thavedoneanythingofthesort.YoushouldhavelistenedtoMr.Bell.”
“Buthewasn’ttalkingtome,”protestedAnne.
“HewastalkingtoGodandhedidn’tseemtobeverymuchinter-estedinit,either.
IthinkhethoughtGodwastoofaroffthough.
Therewasalongrowofwhitebircheshangingoverthelakeandthesunshinefelldownthroughthem,‘way,‘waydown,deepintothewater.
Oh,Marilla,itwaslikeabeautifuldream!
ItgavemeathrillandIjustsaid,‘Thankyouforit,God,’twoorthreetimes.”
“Notoutloud,Ihope,”saidMarillaanxiously.
“Oh,no,justundermybreath.Well,Mr.BelldidgetthroughatlastandtheytoldmetogointotheclassroomwithMissRogerson’sclass.Therewerenineothergirlsinit.Theyallhadpuffedsleeves.
Itriedtoimagineminewerepuffed,too,butIcouldn’t.Whycouldn’tI?
ItwasaseasyascouldbetoimaginetheywerepuffedwhenIwasaloneintheeastgable,butitwasawfullyhardthereamongtheotherswhohadreallytrulypuffs.”
“Youshouldn’thavebeenthinkingaboutyoursleevesinSundayschool.Youshouldhavebeenattendingtothelesson.Ihopeyouknewit.”
“Oh,yes;andIansweredalotofquestions.MissRogersonaskedeversomany.
Idon’tthinkitwasfairforhertodoalltheasking.
TherewerelotsIwantedtoaskher,butIdidn’tliketobecauseIdidn’tthinkshewasakindredspirit.
Thenalltheotherlittlegirlsrecitedaparaphrase.SheaskedmeifIknewany.
ItoldherIdidn’t,butIcouldrecite,‘TheDogatHisMaster’sGrave’ifsheliked.That’sintheThirdRoyalReader.
Itisn’tareallytrulyreligiouspieceofpoetry,butit’ssosadandmelancholythatitmightaswellbe.
Shesaiditwouldn’tdoandshetoldmetolearnthenineteenthparaphrasefornextSunday.
Ireaditoverinchurchafterwardsandit’ssplendid.
Therearetwolinesinparticularthatjustthrillme.
"'Quickastheslaughteredsquadronsfell
InMidian'sevilday.'"
“Idon’tknowwhat‘squadrons’meansnor‘Midian,’either,butitsoundsSOtragical.
IcanhardlywaituntilnextSundaytoreciteit.I’llpracticeitalltheweek.
AfterSundayschoolIaskedMissRogerson—becauseMrs.Lyndewastoofaraway—toshowmeyourpew.
IsatjustasstillasIcouldandthetextwasRevelations,thirdchapter,secondandthirdverses.Itwasaverylongtext.
IfIwasaministerI’dpicktheshort,snappyones.Thesermonwasawfullylong,too.
Isupposetheministerhadtomatchittothetext.
Ididn’tthinkhewasabitinteresting.
Thetroublewithhimseemstobethathehasn’tenoughimagination.Ididn’tlistentohimverymuch.
IjustletmythoughtsrunandIthoughtofthemostsurprisingthings.”
Marillafelthelplesslythatallthisshouldbesternlyreproved,butshewashamperedbytheundeniablefactthatsomeofthethingsAnnehadsaid,especiallyabouttheminister’ssermonsandMr.Bell’sprayers,werewhatsheherselfhadreallythoughtdeepdowninherheartforyears,buthadnevergivenexpressionto.
Italmostseemedtoherthatthosesecret,unuttered,criticalthoughtshadsuddenlytakenvisibleandaccusingshapeandforminthepersonofthisoutspokenmorselofneglectedhumanity.
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