"Anne," said Davy appealingly,
scrambling up on the shiny, leather-covered
sofa in the Green Gables kitchen,
where Anne sat,
reading a letter, "Anne, I'm AWFUL hungry. You've no idea."
"I'll get you a piece of bread
and butter in a minute," said
Anne absently. Her letter evidently
contained some exciting news,
for her cheeks were as pink as
the roses on the big bush outside,
and her eyes were as starry as
only Anne's eyes could be.
"But I ain't bread and butter
hungry, " said Davy in a disgusted
tone. "I'm plum cake hungry."
"Oh," laughed Anne, laying
down her letter and putting her
arm about Davy to give him a
squeeze, "that's a kind of hunger
that can be endured very comfortably,
Davy-boy. You know it's one of
Marilla's rules that you can't
have anything but bread and butter
a piece then. . .please."
Davy had been
at last taught to say "please," but he generally
tacked it on as an afterthought.
He looked with approval at the
generous slice Anne presently
brought to him. "You always put
such a nice lot of butter on
it, Anne. Marilla spreads it
pretty thin. It slips down a
lot easier when there's plenty
The slice "slipped down" with
tolerable ease, judging from
its rapid disappearance. Davy
slid head first off the sofa,
turned a double somersault on
the rug, and then sat up and
made up my mind about heaven.
I don't want to
"Why not?" asked
is in Simon Fletcher's garret,
and I don't like Simon
"Heaven in. . .Simon Fletcher's
garret!" gasped Anne, too amazed
even to laugh. "Davy Keith, whatever
put such an extraordinary idea
into your head?"
says that's where it is. It
was last Sunday
in Sunday School. The lesson
was about Elijah and Elisha,
and I up and asked Miss Rogerson
where heaven was. Miss Rogerson
looked awful offended. She was
cross anyhow, because when she'd
asked us what Elijah left Elisha
when he went to heaven Milty
Boulter said, `His old clo'es,'
and us fellows all laughed before
we thought. I wish you could
think first and do things afterwards,
'cause then you wouldn't do them.
But Milty didn't mean to be disrespeckful.
He just couldn't think of the
name of the thing. Miss Rogerson
said heaven was where God was
and I wasn't to ask questions
like that. Milty nudged me and
said in a whisper, `Heaven's
in Uncle Simon's garret and I'll
esplain about it on the road
home.' So when we was coming
home he esplained. Milty's a
great hand at esplaining things.
Even if he don't know anything
about a thing he'll make up a
lot of stuff and so you get it
esplained all the same. His mother
is Mrs. Simon's sister and he
went with her to the funeral
when his cousin, Jane Ellen,
died. The minister said she'd
gone to heaven, though Milty
says she was lying right before
them in the coffin. But he s'posed
they carried the coffin to the
garret afterwards. Well, when
Milty and his mother went upstairs
after it was all over to get
her bonnet he asked her where
heaven was that Jane Ellen had
gone to, and she pointed right
to the ceiling and said, `Up
there.' Milty knew there wasn't
anything but the garret over
the ceiling, so that's how HE
found out. And he's been awful
scared to go to his Uncle Simon's
Anne took Davy
on her knee and did her best
out this theological tangle also.
She was much better fitted for
the task than Marilla, for she
remembered her own childhood
and had an instinctive understanding
of the curious ideas that seven-year-olds
sometimes get about matters that
are, of course, very plain and
simple to grown up people. She
had just succeeded in convincing
Davy that heaven was NOT in Simon
Fletcher's garret when Marilla
came in from the garden, where
she and Dora had been picking
peas. Dora was an industrious
little soul and never happier
than when "helping" in various
small tasks suited to her chubby
fingers. She fed chickens, picked
up chips, wiped dishes, and ran
errands galore. She was neat,
faithful and observant; she never
had to be told how to do a thing
twice and never forgot any of
her little duties. Davy, on the
other hand, was rather heedless
and forgetful; but he had the
born knack of winning love, and
even yet Anne and Marilla liked
him the better.
While Dora proudly shelled
the peas and Davy made boats
of the pods, with masts of matches
and sails of paper, Anne told
Marilla about the wonderful contents
of her letter.
what do you think? I've had
a letter from Priscilla
and she says that Mrs. Morgan
is on the Island, and that if
it is fine Thursday they are
going to drive up to Avonlea
and will reach here about twelve.
They will spend the afternoon
with us and go to the hotel at
White Sands in the evening, because
some of Mrs. Morgan's American
friends are staying there. Oh,
Marilla, isn't it wonderful?
I can hardly believe I'm not
"I daresay Mrs. Morgan is a
lot like other people," said
Marilla drily, although she did
feel a trifle excited herself.
Mrs. Morgan was a famous woman
and a visit from her was no commonplace
occurrence. "They'll be here
to dinner, then?"
"Yes; and oh,
Marilla, may I cook every bit
of the dinner
myself? I want to feel that I
can do something for the author
of `The Rosebud Garden,' if it
is only to cook a dinner for
her. You won't mind, will you?"
I'm not so fond of stewing
over a hot fire in
July that it would vex me very
much to have someone else do
it. You're quite welcome to the
"Oh, thank you," said Anne,
as if Marilla had just conferred
a tremendous favor, "I'll make
out the menu this very night."
"You'd better not try to put
on too much style," warned Marilla,
a little alarmed by the high-flown
sound of "menu." You'll likely
come to grief if you do."
"Oh, I'm not going to put on
any `style,' if you mean trying
to do or have things we don't
usually have on festal occasions," assured
Anne. "That would be affectation,
and, although I know I haven't
as much sense and steadiness
as a girl of seventeen and a
schoolteacher ought to have,
I'm not so silly AS that. But
I want to have everything as
nice and dainty as possible.
Davy-boy, don't leave those peapods
on the back stairs. . .someone
might slip on them. I'll have
a light soup to begin with. .
.you know I can make lovely cream-of-onion
soup. . .and then a couple of
roast fowls. I'll have the two
white roosters. I have real affection
for those roosters and they've
been pets ever since the gray
hen hatched out just the two
of them. . .little balls of yellow
down. But I know they would have
to be sacrificed sometime, and
surely there couldn't be a worthier
occasion than this. But oh, Marilla,
_I_ cannot kill them. . .not
even for Mrs. Morgan's sake.
I'll have to ask John Henry Carter
to come over and do it for me."
"I'll do it," volunteered Davy, "if
Marilla'll hold them by the legs" cause
I guess it'd take both my hands
to manage the axe. It's awful
jolly fun to see them hopping
about after their heads are cut
"Then I'll have peas and beans
and creamed potatoes and a lettuce
salad, for vegetables," resumed
Anne, "and for dessert, lemon
pie with whipped cream, and coffee
and cheese and lady fingers.
I'll make the pies and lady fingers
tomorrow and do up my white muslin
dress. And I must tell Diana
tonight, for she'll want to do
up hers. Mrs. Morgan's heroines
are nearly always dressed in
white muslin, and Diana and I
have always resolved that that
was what we would wear if we
ever met her. It will be such
a delicate compliment, don't
you think? Davy, dear, you mustn't
poke peapods into the cracks
of the floor. I must ask Mr.
and Mrs. Allan and Miss Stacy
to dinner, too, for they're all
very anxious to meet Mrs. Morgan.
It's so fortunate she's coming
while Miss Stacy is here. Davy
dear, don't sail the peapods
in the water bucket. . .go out
to the trough. Oh, I do hope
it will be fine Thursday, and
I think it will, for Uncle Abe
said last night when he called
at Mr. Harrison's, that it was
going to rain most of this week."
"That's a good sign," agreed
Anne ran across to Orchard
Slope that evening to tell the
news to Diana, who was also very
much excited over it, and they
discussed the matter in the hammock
swung under the big willow in
the Barry garden.
"Oh, Anne, mayn't I help you
cook the dinner?" implored Diana. "You
know I can make splendid lettuce
"Indeed you, may" said Anne
unselfishly. "And I shall want
you to help me decorate too.
I mean to have the parlor simply
a BOWER of blossoms. . .and the
dining table is to be adorned
with wild roses. Oh, I do hope
everything will go smoothly.
Mrs. Morgan's heroines NEVER
get into scrapes or are taken
at a disadvantage, and they are
always so selfpossessed and such
good housekeepers. They seem
to be BORN good housekeepers.
You remember that Gertrude in
`Edgewood Days' kept house for
her father when she was only
eight years old. When I was eight
years old I hardly knew how to
do a thing except bring up children.
Mrs. Morgan must be an authority
on girls when she has written
so much about them, and I do
want her to have a good opinion
of us. I've imagined it all out
a dozen different ways. . .what
she'll look like, and what she'll
say, and what I'll say. And I'm
so anxious about my nose. There
are seven freckles on it, as
you can see. They came at the
A.V.I S. picnic, when I went
around in the sun without my
hat. I suppose it's ungrateful
of me to worry over them, when
I should be thankful they're
not spread all over my face as
they once were; but I do wish
they hadn't come. . .all Mrs.
Morgan's heroines have such perfect
complexions. I can't recall a
freckled one among them."
"Yours are not very noticeable," comforted
Diana. "Try a little lemon juice
on them tonight."
The next day
Anne made her pies and lady
fingers, did up
her muslin dress, and swept and
dusted every room in the house.
. .a quite unnecessary proceeding,
for Green Gables was, as usual,
in the apple pie order dear to
Marilla's heart. But Anne felt
that a fleck of dust would be
a desecration in a house that
was to be honored by a visit
from Charlotte E. Morgan. She
even cleaned out the "catch-all" closet
under the stairs, although there
was not the remotest possibility
of Mrs. Morgan's seeing its interior.
"But I want to FEEL that it
is in perfect order, even if
she isn't to see it," Anne told
Marilla. "You know, in her book
`Golden Keys,' she makes her
two heroines Alice and Louisa
take for their motto that verse
"`In the elder
days of art Builders wrought
care Each minute and unseen part,
For the gods see everywhere,'
and so they
always kept their cellar stairs
scrubbed and never
forgot to sweep under the beds.
I should have a guilty conscience
if I thought this closet was
in disorder when Mrs. Morgan
was in the house. Ever since
we read `Golden Keys,' last April,
Diana and I have taken that verse
for our motto too."
That night John Henry Carter
and Davy between them contrived
to execute the two white roosters,
and Anne dressed them, the usually
distasteful task glorified in
her eyes by the destination of
the plump birds.
"I don't like picking fowls," she
told Marilla, "but isn't it fortunate
we don't have to put our souls
into what our hands may be doing?
I've been picking chickens with
my hands but in imagination I've
been roaming the Milky Way."
"I thought you'd scattered
more feathers over the floor
than usual," remarked Marilla.
Then Anne put Davy to bed and
made him promise that he would
behave perfectly the next day.
"If I'm as good as good can
be all day tomorrow will you
let me be just as bad as I like
all the next day?" asked Davy.
"I couldn't do that," said
Anne discreetly, "but I'll take
you and Dora for a row in the
flat right to the bottom of the
pond, and we'll go ashore on
the sandhills and have a picnic."
"It's a bargain," said Davy. "I'll
be good, you bet. I meant to
go over to Mr. Harrison's and
fire peas from my new popgun
at Ginger but another day'll
do as well. I espect it will
be just like Sunday, but a picnic
at the shore'll make up for THAT."