Anne Of Avonlea (Bedtime Story) Part 8

CHAPTER VIII MARILA ADOPTS TWINS Miss Rachel Lind was sitting at her kitchen window,

Knitting a quilt,

As she had been sitting one evening several years previously,

When Matthew Cuthbert had driven down over the hill with what Miss Rachel called his imported orphan.

But that had been in springtime,

And this was late autumn,

And all the woods were leafless and the fields were sear and brown.

The sun was just setting with a great deal of purple and golden pomp behind the dark woods west of Avonlea,

When a buggy,

Drawn by a comfortable brown knag,

Came down the hill.

Miss Rachel peered at it eagerly.

There is Marila getting home from the funeral,

She said to her husband,

Who was laying on the kitchen lounge.

Thomas Lind lay more on the lounge nowadays than he had been used to do,

But Miss Rachel was so sharp at noticing anything beyond her own household,

Had not as yet noticed this.

And she's got the twins with her.

Yes,

There is Davy,

Leaning over the dashboard,

Grabbing at the pony's tail,

And Marila jerking him back.

Dora is sitting up on the seat as prim as you please.

She always looks as if she had just been starched and ironed.

Well poor Marila is going to have her hands full this winter and no mistake.

Still I don't see that she could do anything less than take them under the circumstances.

She will have Anne to help her.

Anne's tickled to death over the whole business,

And she has a real knacky way with children I must say.

Dear me,

It doesn't seem a day since poor Matthew brought Anne herself home had everybody laughed at the idea of Marila bringing up a child,

And now she has adopted twins.

You are never safe from being surprised till you are dead.

The fat pony jogged over the bridge in Linda's hollow,

And along the green gables lay.

Marila's face was rather grim.

It was ten miles from East Grafton,

And Davy Keats seemed to be possessed with a passion for perpetual motion.

It was beyond Marila's power to make him sit still,

And she had been in agony the whole way lest he fall over the back of the wagon and break his neck or tumble over the dashboard under the pony's heels.

In despair she finally threatened to whip him soundly when she got him home,

Whereupon Davy climbed into her lap regardless of the rains,

Flung his chubby arms about her neck,

And gave her a bear-like hug.

''I don't believe you mean it,

'' he said,

Smacking her wrinkled cheek affectionately.

''You don't look like a lady who would whip a little boy just because he couldn't keep still.

Didn't you find it awful hard to keep still when you were only as old as me?

'' ''No,

I always kept still when I was told,

'' said Marila,

Trying to speak sternly.

Albeit she felt her heart waxing soft within her under Davy's impulsive caress.

''Well,

I suppose that was cause you were a girl,

'' said Davy,

Squirming back to his place after another hug.

''You were a nice one.

I suppose though it is awfully funny to think of it.

Dora can sit still,

But there ain't much fun in it,

I don't think.

Seems to me it must be slow to be a girl.

Come here,

Dora,

Let me liven you up a bit.

'' Davy's method of livening up was to grasp Dora's curls in his fingers and give them a tug.

Dora shrieked and cried,

''How can you be such a naughty boy and your poor mother just laid in her grave this very day?

'' Demanded Marila desperately.

''But she was glad to die,

'' said Davy confidentially.

''I know,

Because she told me so.

She was awfully tired of being sick.

We had a long talk the night before she died.

She told me you were going to take me and Dora for the winter and I was to be a good boy.

I am going to be good.

But can't you be good running round just as well as sitting still?

'' And she said,

''I was always to be kind to Dora and stand up for her.

And I am going to.

Do you call pulling her hair being kind to her?

Well,

I ain't going to let anybody else pull it,

'' said Davy,

Doubling up his fist and frowning.

''They'd just better try it.

I didn't hurt her much.

She just cried because she's a girl.

I'm glad I'm a boy,

But I am sorry I'm a twin,

'' and Jimmy's broad sisters contradicts him.

He just says,

''I'm older you,

So of course I know better,

'' and that settles her.

But I cannot tell Dora that and she just goes on thinking different from me.

''You might let me try the Kiki for a spell,

Since I'm a man?

'' Altogether Marilla was a thankful woman when she drove into her own yard,

Where the wind of the autumn night was dancing with the brown leaves.

Anne was at the gate to meet them and lift the twins out.

Dora's admitted call me to be kissed,

But Davy responded to Anne's welcome with one of his hearty hugs and the cheerful announcement,

''I am Mr.

Davy Keat,

'' at the supper table.

Dora behaved like a little lady,

But Davy's manners left much to be desired.

''I am so hungry I ain't got the time to eat politely,

'' he said when Marilla reproved him.

''Dora ain't half as hungry as I am.

Look at all the exercise I took on the road here,

That cake's awfully nice and plummy.

We haven't had any cake at home for ever,

Ever so long,

Because mother was too sick to make it and Miss Sprott said it was as much as she could do to bake our bread for us,

And Miss Wickings never puts any plums in her cakes.

Catch her,

Can I have another piece?

'' Marilla would have refused,

But Anne cut a generous second slice.

However,

She reminded Davy that he ought to say thank you for it.

Davy merely grinned at her and took a huge bite.

When he had finished the slice,

He said,

''If you will give me another piece,

I will say thank you for it.

'' ''No,

You have had plenty of cake,

'' said Marilla,

In a tone which Anne knew,

And Davy was to learn to be final.

Davy winked at Anne,

And then,

Leaning over the table,

Snatched Dora's first piece of cake,

From which she had just taken one dainty little bite out of her very fingers,

And opening his mouth to the fullest extent,

Crammed the whole slice in.

Dora's lip trembled and Marilla was speechless with horror,

And promptly explained with her best school-ma'am air,

''Oh,

Davy,

Gentlemen don't do things like that.

''I know they don't,

'' said Davy,

As soon as he could speak,

''but I am not a gentleman,

But don't you want to be?

'' said shocked Anne.

''Of course I do,

But you cannot be a gentleman till you grow up.

'' ''Oh,

Indeed you can,

'' Anne hastened to say,

Thinking she saw a chance to sow a good seed.

''You can begin to be a gentleman when you are a little boy,

And gentlemen never snatch things from ladies,

Or forget to say thank you,

Or pull anybody's hair.

'' ''They don't have much fun,

That is a fact,

'' said Davy frankly,

''I guess I will wait till I am grown up to be one.

'' Marilla,

With a resigned air,

Had cut another piece of cake for Dora.

She did not feel able to cope with Davy just then.

It had been a hard day for her,

What with the funeral and the long drive.

She looked forward to the future with a pessimism that would have done credit to Eliza Andrews herself.

The twins were not very much alike,

Although both were fair.

Dora had long,

Sleek curls that never got out of order.

Davy had a crop of fuzzy little yellow wrinklets all over his round head.

Dora's hazel eyes were gentle and mild,

Davy's were as rookish and dancing as an elf's.

Dora's nose was straight,

Davy's a positive snub.

Dora had a prunes-and-prisms mouth,

Davy's was all smiles,

And besides,

He had a dimple in one cheek and none in the other,

Which gave him a dear,

Comical,

Lopsided look when he laughed.

Mert and Midchief lurked in every corner of his little face.

''They'd better go to bed,

'' said Marilla,

Who thought it was the easiest way to dispose them.

''Dora will sleep with me,

And you can put Davy in the West Gable.

You are not afraid to sleep alone,

Are you,

Davy?

'' ''No,

But I ain't going to bed for ever so long yet,

'' said Davy comfortably.

''Oh yes,

You are.

That was all the much-tried Marilla said,

But something in her tone squelched even Davy.

He trotted obediently upstairs with Anne.

''When I am grown up,

The very first thing I'm going to do is to stay up all night just to see what it would be like,

'' he told her confidentially.

In after years Marilla never thought of that first week of the twins at Green Gables without a shiver.

Not that it really was so much worse than the weeks that followed it,

But it seemed so by reason of its novelty.

There was seldom a waking minute of any day when Davy was not in mid-shift or devising it,

But his first notable exploit occurred two days after his arrival on Sunday morning,

A fine warm day as hazy and mild as September.

Anne dressed him for church while Marilla attended to Dora.

Davy at first objected strongly to having his face washed.

Marilla washed it yesterday,

And Miss Vickings caught me with hard soap the day of the funeral.

That is enough for one week.

I don't see the good of being so awfully clean.

It is much more comfortable being dirty.

Paul Irving washes his face every day of his accord,

'' said Anne astutely.

Davy had been an inmate of Green Gables for a little over forty-eight hours,

But he already worshipped Anne and hated Paul Irving,

Who he had heard Anne praise enthusiastically the day after his arrival.

If Paul Irving washed his face every day,

That settled it.

He,

Davy Keat,

Would do it too,

If it killed him.

The same consideration induced him to submit meekly to the other details of his toilet,

And he was really a handsome little lad.

When all was done,

Anne felt an almost maternal pride in him.

As she led him into the old cupboard pew,

Davy behaved quite well at first,

Being occupied in casting covert glances at all the small boys within view and wondering which was Paul Irving.

The first two hymns,

Scripture reading,

Passed off uneventfully.

Mr.

Allen was praying when the sensation came.

Loretta White was sitting in front of Davy,

Her head slightly bent,

And her fair hair hanging in two long braids,

Between which a tempting expanse of white neck showed,

Encased in a loose lace frill.

Loretta was a placid-looking child of eight,

Who had conducted herself irreproachably in church from the very first day her mother carried her there,

An infant of six months.

She thrust his hand into his pocket and produced a caterpillar,

A furry,

Squirming caterpillar.

Marilla saw and clutched at him,

But she was too late.

Davy dropped the caterpillar down Loretta's neck.

Right into the middle of Mr.

Allen's prayer burst a series of piercing shrieks.

The minister stopped appalled and opened his eyes.

Every head in the congregation flew up.

Loretta White was dancing up and down in her pew,

Clutching frantically at the back of her dress.

Oh,

Mummer,

Mummer,

Oh,

Take it off,

Get it out,

That bad boy put it down my neck,

It is going further down,

Ow!

Miss White rose and with a sad face carried the historical,

Ridden Loretta out of church.

Her shrieks died away in the distance,

And Mr.

Allen proceeded with the service,

But everybody felt that it was a failure that day.

For the first time in her life Marilla took no notice of the text,

And answered with the scarlet cheeks of mortification.

When they got home,

Marilla put Davy to bed and made him stay there for the rest of the day.

She would not give him any dinner,

But allowed him a plain tea of bread and milk.

Anne carried it to him,

And sat sorrowfully by him while he ate it unrepentant relish.

But Anne's mournful eyes troubled him.

I suppose,

He said reflectively,

That Paul Irving wouldn't have dropped a caterpillar down a girl's neck in church,

Would he?

Indeed he wouldn't,

Said Anne sadly.

Well,

I am kind of sorry I did it then,

Conceded Davy.

But it was such a jolly big caterpillar,

I picked him up on the church steps just as we went in.

It seemed a pity to waste him,

And say,

Wasn't it fun to hear that girl yell?

Tuesday afternoon the Aid Society met at Green Gables.

Anne hurried home from school,

For she knew that Marilla would need all the assistance she could give.

Dora,

Neat and proper,

In her nicely starched white dress and black sash,

Was sitting with the members of the Aid in the parlour,

Speaking demurely when spoken to,

Keeping silence when not,

And in every way comporting herself as a model child.

Davy,

Blissfully dirty,

Was making mud pies in the barnyard.

I told him he might,

Said Marilla warily.

I thought it would keep him out of the worst mischief.

He can only get dirty at that.

We'll have our teas over before we call him to his.

Dora can have hers with us,

But I would never dare to let Davy sit down at the table with all the Aids here.

When Anne went to call the Aids to the tea,

She found that Dora was not in the parlour.

Miss Jasper Bell said Davy had come to the front door and called her out.

A hasty consultation with Marilla in the pantry resulted in a decision to let both children have their teas together later on.

Tea was half over when the dining room was invaded by a fallen figure.

Marilla and Anne stared in dismay,

The Aids in amazement.

Could that be Dora?

That sobbing,

Nondescript in her drenched trippin' dress and hair,

From which the water was streaming on Marilla's new coin-spot rug?

Dora,

What has happened to you?

Cried Anne,

With a gilded glance at Mrs.

Jasper Bell,

Whose family was said to be the only one in the world in which accidents never occurred.

Davy made me walk the Big Ben fence.

Well,

Dora,

I didn't want to,

But he called me a fraid cat,

And I fell off into the Big Ben,

And my dress got all dirty,

And the pig ran right over me.

My dress was just awful,

But Davy said if I'd stand under the pump,

It'd wash it clean,

And I did,

And he plumped water all over me,

But my dress ain't a bit cleaner,

And my pretty shash and shoes is all spoiled.

Anne did the owners of the table alone for the rest of the meal,

While Marilla went upstairs and re-dressed Dora in her old clothes.

Davy was caught and sent to bed without any supper.

Anne went to his room at twilight and talked to him seriously,

A method in which she had great faith,

Not altogether unjustified by results.

She told him she felt very badly over his conduct.

I feel sorry now myself,

Admitted Davy,

But the trouble is I never feel sorry for doing things till after I did them.

Dora wouldn't help me make pies,

Cause she was afraid of messing her clothes,

And that made me hopping mad.

I suppose Paul Irving wouldn't have made his sister walk a big pen-fence if he knew she'd fall in.

No,

He would never dream of such a thing,

Paul is a perfect little gentleman.

Davy screwed his eyes tight shut,

And seemed to meditate on this for a time.

Then he crawled up and put his arms around Anne's neck,

Snuggling his flushed little face down on her shoulder.

Anne,

Don't you like me a little bit,

Even if I am not a good boy like Paul?

Indeed I do,

Said Anne sincerely.

Somehow it was impossible to help liking Davy,

But I'd like you better still if you weren't so naughty.

I did something else today,

Went on Davy in a muffled voice.

I am sorry now,

But I am awfully scared to tell you.

You won't be very cross,

Will you,

And you won't tell Marilla,

Will you?

I don't know,

Davy,

Perhaps I ought to tell her,

But I think I can promise you I won't if you promise me that you will never do it again,

Whatever it is.

No,

I never will.

Anyhow,

It is not likely I'd find any more of them this year.

I found this one on the cellar steps.

Davy,

What it is that you have done?

I put the toad in Marilla's bed.

You can go and take it out,

If you like,

But say,

Anne,

Wouldn't it be fun to leave it there?

Davy,

Keep it.

Anne sprang from Davy's clinging arms,

And flew across the hall to Marilla's room.

The bed was slightly rumpled.

She threw back the blankets in nervous haste,

And there in the truth was the toad,

Blinking at her from under her pillow.

How can I carry that awful thing out,

Moaned Anne with a shudder.

The fire shovels chested itself to her,

And she crept down to get it,

While Marilla was busy in the pantry.

Anne had her own troubles carrying that toad downstairs,

For it hopped off the shovel three times,

And once she thought she had lost it in the hall.

When she finally deposited it in the cherry orchard,

She drew a long breath of relief.

If Marilla knew,

She'd never feel safe getting into bed again in her life.

I'm so glad that little sinner repented in time.

Here is Diana signaling to me from her window.

I am glad.

I really feel the need of some diversion,

For what with Anthony Pye in school and Davy Keat at home,

My nerves have had about all they can endure for one day.