7 Anne Of The Island - Read By Stephanie Poppins

Anne of the Island by L.

M.

Montgomery Read by Stephanie Poppins Chapter 7 Home Again Those first three weeks at Redmond had seemed long,

But the rest of the term flew by on the wings of wind.

Before they realised it,

The Redmond students found themselves in the grind of Christmas examinations,

Emerging therefrom more or less triumphantly.

The honour of leading in the freshman classes fluctuated between Anne,

Gilbert and Philippa.

Priscilla did very well.

Charlie Sloane scraped through respectably and comported himself as complacently as if he had led in everything.

I can't really believe this time tomorrow are being Green Gables,

Said Anne on the night before departure.

But I shall be,

And you,

Phil,

Will be in Bolingbroke with Alec and Alonso.

I'm longing to see them,

Admitted Phil between the chocolate she was nibbling.

They really are such dear boys,

You know.

There's to be no end of dances and drives and general jamborees.

I shall never forgive you,

Queen Anne,

For not coming home with me for the holidays.

Never means three days with you,

Phil.

It was dear of you to ask me,

Said Anne.

I'd love to go to Bolingbroke someday,

But I can't go this year.

I must go home.

You don't know how my heart longs for it.

You won't have much of a time,

Said Phil scornfully.

There'll be one or two quilting parties,

I suppose,

And all the old gossips will talk you over your face and behind your back.

You'll die of lonesomeness,

Child.

Inherently,

Said Anne,

Highly amused.

Now,

If you'd come with me,

You'd have a perfectly gorgeous time,

Said Phil.

Bolingbroke would go wild over you,

Queen Anne.

Your hair and your style and everything.

You're so different.

You'd be such a success,

And I would bask in reflected glory.

Not the rose,

But near the rose.

Do come after all,

Anne.

Your picture of social triumphs is quite fascinating,

Phil,

Said Anne,

But I'll paint one to offset it.

I'm going home to an old country farmhouse,

Once green,

Rather faded now,

Set among leafless apple orchards.

There's a brook below,

And a December fir wood beyond,

Where I've heard harps swept by the fingers of rain and wind.

There's a pond nearby that will be grey and brooding.

There will be two oldish ladies in the house,

One tall and thin,

One short and fat.

And there will be two twins,

One a perfect model,

And the other what Mrs.

Lynn calls a holy terror.

There'll be a little room upstairs over the porch where old dreams hang thick,

And a big,

Fat,

Glorious feather bed which will almost sing the height of luxury after a boarding house mattress.

How do you like my picture,

Phil?

It seems a very dull one,

Said Phil with a grimace.

Oh,

But I've left out the transforming thing,

Said Anne softly.

There'll be love there,

Phil.

Faithful,

Tender love,

Such as I've never felt anywhere else in the world.

Love that's waiting just for me.

That makes my picture a masterpiece,

Doesn't it?

Even if the colours are not very brilliant.

Phil silently got up,

Tossed her box of chocolates away,

Went up to Anne,

And put her arms about her.

Anne,

I wish I was like you,

She said soberly.

Diana met Anne at the Comedy Station the next night,

And they drove home together under silent,

Star-sown depths of sky.

Green gables had a very festal appearance as they drove up the lane.

There was a light in every window,

The glow breaking out through the darkness like flame-red blossoms swung against the dark backdrop of the haunted wood.

And in the yard was a brave bonfire with two gay little figures dancing round it,

One of which gave an unearthly yell as the buggy turned in under the poplars.

Davy means that for an Indian war whoop,

Said Diana.

Mr Harrison's hired boy taught it to him and he's been practising it up to welcome you with.

Mrs Lynn said it's worn her nerves to a frazzle.

He creeps up behind her,

You know,

And lets go.

He was determined to have a bonfire for you too.

He's been piling up branches for a fortnight and pestering Marilla to pour some kerosene oil over it before setting it on fire.

I guess she did by the smell,

Though Mrs Lynn said up to the last day that Davy would blow himself and everybody up if he was allowed to do it.

Anne was out of the buggy by this time,

And Davy was rapturously hugging her knees while even Dora was clinging to her hand.

Isn't it a bolly bonfire,

Anne?

Just let me show you how to poke it.

See the sparks?

I did it for you,

Anne,

Because I was so glad you were coming home.

The kitchen door opened and Marilla's spare form darkened against the inner light.

She preferred to meet Anne in the shadows,

For she was horribly afraid she was going to cry with joy.

She stern repressed Marilla,

Who thought all display of deep emotion unseemly.

Mrs Lynn was behind her,

Kindly and matronly as of yore.

The love that Anne had told Phil was waiting for her surrounded her and enfolded her with its blessing and its sweetness.

Nothing after all could compare with old ties,

Old friends and old green gables.

How starry Anne's eyes were as they sat down to the loaded supper table,

How pink her cheeks,

How silver clear her laughter.

And Diana was going to stay all night too.

How like the dear old times it would be.

And the rosebud tea set graced the table.

With Marilla,

The force of nature could no further go.

I suppose you and Diana will now proceed to talk all night,

She said sarcastically as the girls went upstairs.

Marilla was always sarcastic after any self-betrayal.

Yes,

Agreed Anne gaily,

But I'm going to put Davy to bed first.

He insists on that.

You bet,

Said Davy as they went along the hall.

I want somebody to say my prayers to again.

It's no fun saying them alone.

You don't say them alone,

Davy.

God is always with you to hear him,

Said Anne.

But I can't see him,

Objected Davy.

I want to pray to somebody I can see,

But I won't say them to Mrs Lend or Marilla.

There now.

Nevertheless,

When Davy was garbed in his grey flannel nightie,

He did not seem in a hurry to begin.

He stood before Anne,

Shuffling one bare foot over the other,

And looked undecided.

Come dear,

Kneel down,

Said Anne.

So Davy came and buried his head in Anne's lap,

But he did not kneel down.

Anne,

He said in a muffled voice,

I don't feel like praying after all.

I haven't felt like it for a week now.

I didn't pray last night nor the night before.

Why not,

Davy?

Said Anne gently.

You won't be mad if I tell you,

He implored.

Anne lifted the little grey flannel body on her knee and cuddled his head on her arm.

Do I ever get mad when you tell me things,

Davy?

No,

You never do,

But you get sorry and that's worse.

You'll be awful sorry when I tell you this,

Anne,

And you'll be ashamed of me,

I suppose.

Have you done something naughty,

Davy?

Is that why you can't say your prayers?

No,

I haven't done nothing naughty yet,

But I want to do it.

What is it,

Davy?

I want to say a bad word,

Anne,

Blurted out Davy with a desperate effort.

I heard Mr Harrison's hired boys say it one day last week and ever since I've been wanting to say it all the time,

Even when I'm saying my prayers.

Say it then,

Davy.

Davy lifted his flushed face in amazement.

But Anne,

It's an awful bad word.

Say it.

Davy gave Anne another incredulous look,

Then in a low voice he said the dreadful word.

The next minute his face was burrowing against her.

Oh,

Anne,

I'll never say it again,

Never,

Never,

I'll never want to say it again.

I know it was bad,

But I didn't suppose it was so,

I didn't suppose it was like that.

No,

I don't think you ever want to say it again,

Davy,

Or think it either,

Said Anne,

And I wouldn't go about much with Mr Harrison's hired boy if I were you.

They can make bully war whoops,

Though,

Said Davy,

A little regretfully.

But you don't want your mind filled with bad words,

Do you,

Davy?

Words that will poison it and drive out all that's good and manly.

No,

Said Davy,

Owl-eyed with introspection.

Then don't go with those people who use them,

Said Anne.

And now,

Do you feel as if you could say your prayers,

Davy?

Oh,

Yes,

Said Davy,

Eagerly wriggling down on his knees,

I can say them now,

All right.

I ain't scared to say them now if I should die before I wake,

Like I was when I was waiting to say that word.

Probably Anne and Diana did empty out their souls to each other that night,

But no record of their confidences has been preserved.

They both looked as fresh and bright-eyed at breakfast as only youth can look after unlawful hours of revelry and confession.

There had been no snow up to this time,

But as Diana crossed the old log bridge on her homeward way,

The white flakes were beginning to flutter down over the fields and woods,

Russet and grey in their dreamless sleep.

Soon the faraway slopes and hills were dim and wraith-like through their gauzy scarfing,

As if pale autumn had flung a misty bridal veil over her hair and was waiting for her wintry bridegroom.

So they had a white Christmas,

After all,

And a very pleasant day it was.

In the forenoon,

Letters and gifts came from Miss Lavender and Paul.

Anne opened them in the cheerful green gables kitchen,

Which was filled with what Davy,

Sniffing in ecstasy,

Called pretty smells.

Miss Lavender and Mr Irving are settled in their new home now,

Reported Anne.

I'm sure Miss Lavender's perfectly happy.

I know it by the gentle tone of her letter,

But there's a note from Charlotte IV.

She doesn't like Boston at all,

And she's fearfully homesick.

Miss Lavender wants me to go through to Echo Lodge some day while I'm home in light of fire to air it,

And see the cushions aren't getting mouldy.

I think I'll get Diana to go over with me next week,

And we can spend the evening with Theodora Dix.

I want so to see Theodora.

By the way,

Is Ludwig Speed still going to see her?

They say so,

Said Marilla,

And he's likely to continue it.

Folks have given up expecting that courtship will ever arrive anywhere.

I'd hurry him up a bit if I was Theodora,

That's what,

Said Mrs Lind,

And there was not the slightest doubt but that she would.

There was also a characteristic scrawl from Philippa,

Full of Alec and Alonso,

What they said and what they did and how they looked when they saw her.

But I can't make up my mind yet which to marry,

She wrote.

I do wish you'd come with me to decide for me.

Someone will have to.

When I saw Alec,

My heart gave a great thump and I thought,

He might just be the right one.

And then,

When Alonso came,

Thump went my heart again,

So that's no guide,

Though it should be,

According to all the novels I've ever read.

Now Anne,

Your heart wouldn't thump for anybody but the genuine Prince Charming,

Would it?

There must be something radically wrong with mine,

But I'm having a perfectly gorgeous time.

How I wish you were here.

It's snowing today and I'm rapturous.

I was so afraid we'd have a green Christmas and I loathe green Christmases.

You know,

When Christmas is a dirty,

Grey,

Brownie affair,

Looking as if it had been left over a hundred years ago and had been in soak ever since,

It is called a green Christmas.

Don't ask me why,

As Lord Dundreary said,

There are those thingeth no fellow can understand.

Anne,

Did you ever get on a streetcar and then discover you hadn't any money with you to pay your fare?

I did the other day.

It's quite awful.

I had a nickel with me when I got onto the car.

I thought it was in the left pocket of my coat and when I got settled down comfortably,

I felt for it but it wasn't there.

I had a cold chill I felt in the other pocket,

Not there,

And I had another chill.

Then I felt in a little inside pocket,

All in vain,

And I had two chills all at once.

I took off my gloves,

Laid them on the seat and went over all my pockets again.

It was not even there.

I stood up and shook myself and then looked on the floor.

The car was full of people who were going home from the opera and they all stared at me,

But I was past caring for a little thing like that.

I didn't know what to do,

But the conductor,

I wondered,

Stopped the car and put me off in shame.

Was it possible I could convince him I was merely the victim of my own absentmindedness?

How I wished that Alec or Alonzo were there then,

But they weren't because I wanted them.

If I hadn't wanted them,

They would have been there by the dozen and I couldn't decide what to say to the conductor when he came round.

Then just at the conventional moment when all hope had fled and the conductor was holding out his box to the passenger next to me,

I suddenly remembered where I'd put that wretched coin.

I meekly fished it out of the index finger of my glove and poked it in the box.

The visit to Echo Lodge was not the least pleasant of many pleasant holiday outings.

Anne and Diana went back to it by the old way of the beech woods,

Carrying a lunch basket with them.

Echo Lodge,

Which had been closed ever since Miss Lavender's wedding,

Was briefly thrown open to wind and sunshine once more,

And firelight glimmered again in the little rooms.

The perfume of Miss Lavender's rose bowl still filled the air.

It was hardly possible to believe Miss Lavender would not come tripping in presently,

With her brown eyes a star with welcome,

And that Charlotte IV,

Blue of bow and white of smile,

Would not pop through the door.

Paul too seemed hovering around with his fairy fancies.

It really makes me feel like a bit of a ghost revisiting the old-time glimpses of the moon,

Laughed Anne.

Let's go out and see if the Echos are at home.

Bring the old horn,

Diana.

It's still behind the kitchen door.

To her delight,

The Echos were at home,

Over the White River,

As silver-clear and multitudinous as ever.

And when they ceased to answer,

The girls locked up Echo Lodge again,

And went away in the perfect half-hour that follows the rose and saffron of a winter sunset.