ALL things great are wound up
with all things little. At first
glance it might not seem that
the decision of a certain Canadian
Premier to include Prince Edward
Island in a political tour could
have much or anything to do with
the fortunes of little Anne Shirley
at Green Gables. But it had.
It was a January the Premier
came, to address his loyal supporters
and such of his nonsupporters
as chose to be present at the
monster mass meeting held in
Charlottetown. Most of the Avonlea
people were on Premier's side
of politics; hence on the night
of the meeting nearly all the
men and a goodly proportion of
the women had gone to town thirty
miles away. Mrs. Rachel Lynde
had gone too. Mrs. Rachel Lynde
was a red-hot politician and
couldn't have believed that the
political rally could be carried
through without her, although
she was on the opposite side
of politics. So she went to town
and took her husband--Thomas
would be useful in looking after
the horse--and Marilla Cuthbert
with her. Marilla had a sneaking
interest in politics herself,
and as she thought it might be
her only chance to see a real
live Premier, she promptly took
it, leaving Anne and Matthew
to keep house until her return
the following day.
Hence, while Marilla and Mrs.
Rachel were enjoying themselves
hugely at the mass meeting, Anne
and Matthew had the cheerful
kitchen at Green Gables all to
themselves. A bright fire was
glowing in the old-fashioned
Waterloo stove and blue-white
frost crystals were shining on
the windowpanes. Matthew nodded
over a FARMERS' ADVOCATE on the
sofa and Anne at the table studied
her lessons with grim determination,
despite sundry wistful glances
at the clock shelf, where lay
a new book that Jane Andrews
had lent her that day. Jane had
assured her that it was warranted
to produce any number of thrills,
or words to that effect, and
Anne's fingers tingled to reach
out for it. But that would mean
Gilbert Blythe's triumph on the
morrow. Anne turned her back
on the clock shelf and tried
to imagine it wasn't there.
"Matthew, did
you ever study geometry when
you went to school?"
"Well now, no, I didn't," said
Matthew, coming out of his doze
with a start.
"I wish you had," sighed Anne, "because
then you'd be able to sympathize
with me. You can't sympathize
properly if you've never studied
it. It is casting a cloud over
my whole life. I'm such a dunce
at it, Matthew."
"Well now, I dunno," said Matthew
soothingly. "I guess you're all
right at anything. Mr. Phillips
told me last week in Blair's
store at Carmody that you was
the smartest scholar in school
and was making rapid progress.
`Rapid progress' was his very
words. There's them as runs down
Teddy Phillips and says he ain't
much of a teacher, but I guess
he's all right."
Matthew would
have thought anyone who praised
Anne was "all
right."
"I'm sure I'd get on better
with geometry if only he wouldn't
change the letters," complained
Anne. "I learn the proposition
off by heart and then he draws
it on the blackboard and puts
different letters from what are
in the book and I get all mixed
up. I don't think a teacher should
take such a mean advantage, do
you? We're studying agriculture
now and I've found out at last
what makes the roads red. It's
a great comfort. I wonder how
Marilla and Mrs. Lynde are enjoying
themselves. Mrs. Lynde says Canada
is going to the dogs the way
things are being run at Ottawa
and that it's an awful warning
to the electors. She says if
women were allowed to vote we
would soon see a blessed change.
What way do you vote, Matthew?"
"Conservative," said
Matthew promptly. To vote Conservative
was part of Matthew's religion.
"Then I'm Conservative too," said
Anne decidedly. "I'm glad because
Gil--because some of the boys
in school are Grits. I guess
Mr. Phillips is a Grit too because
Prissy Andrews's father is one,
and Ruby Gillis says that when
a man is courting he always has
to agree with the girl's mother
in religion and her father in
politics. Is that true, Matthew?"
"Well now, I dunno," said
Matthew.
"Did you ever
go courting, Matthew?"
"Well now, no, I dunno's I
ever did," said Matthew, who
had certainly never thought of
such a thing in his whole existence.
Anne reflected with her chin
in her hands.
"It must be
rather interesting, don't you
think, Matthew? Ruby
Gillis says when she grows up
she's going to have ever so many
beaus on the string and have
them all crazy about her; but
I think that would be too exciting.
I'd rather have just one in his
right mind. But Ruby Gillis knows
a great deal about such matters
because she has so many big sisters,
and Mrs. Lynde says the Gillis
girls have gone off like hot
cakes. Mr. Phillips goes up to
see Prissy Andrews nearly every
evening. He says it is to help
her with her lessons but Miranda
Sloane is studying for Queen's
too, and I should think she needed
help a lot more than Prissy because
she's ever so much stupider,
but he never goes to help her
in the evenings at all. There
are a great many things in this
world that I can't understand
very well, Matthew."
"Well now, I dunno as I comprehend
them all myself," acknowledged
Matthew.
"Well, I suppose
I must finish up my lessons.
I won't allow
myself to open that new book
Jane lent me until I'm through.
But it's a terrible temptation,
Matthew. Even when I turn my
back on it I can see it there
just as plain. Jane said she
cried herself sick over it. I
love a book that makes me cry.
But I think I'll carry that book
into the sitting room and lock
it in the jam closet and give
you the key. And you must NOT
give it to me, Matthew, until
my lessons are done, not even
if I implore you on my bended
knees. It's all very well to
say resist temptation, but it's
ever so much easier to resist
it if you can't get the key.
And then shall I run down the
cellar and get some russets,
Matthew? Wouldn't you like some
russets?"
"Well now, I dunno but what
I would," said Matthew, who never
ate russets but knew Anne's weakness
for them.
Just as Anne emerged triumphantly
from the cellar with her plateful
of russets came the sound of
flying footsteps on the icy board
walk outside and the next moment
the kitchen door was flung open
and in rushed Diana Barry, white
faced and breathless, with a
shawl wrapped hastily around
her head. Anne promptly let go
of her candle and plate in her
surprise, and plate, candle,
and apples crashed together down
the cellar ladder and were found
at the bottom embedded in melted
grease, the next day, by Marilla,
who gathered them up and thanked
mercy the house hadn't been set
on fire.
"Whatever is the matter, Diana?" cried
Anne. "Has your mother relented
at last?"
"Oh, Anne, do come quick," implored
Diana nervously. "Minnie May
is awful sick--she's got croup.
Young Mary Joe says--and Father
and Mother are away to town and
there's nobody to go for the
doctor. Minnie May is awful bad
and Young Mary Joe doesn't know
what to do--and oh, Anne, I'm
so scared!"
Matthew, without a word, reached
out for cap and coat, slipped
past Diana and away into the
darkness of the yard.
"He's gone to harness the sorrel
mare to go to Carmody for the
doctor," said Anne, who was hurrying
on hood and jacket. "I know it
as well as if he'd said so. Matthew
and I are such kindred spirits
I can read his thoughts without
words at all."
"I don't believe he'll find
the doctor at Carmody," sobbed
Diana. "I know that Dr. Blair
went to town and I guess Dr.
Spencer would go too. Young Mary
Joe never saw anybody with croup
and Mrs. Lynde is away. Oh, Anne!"
"Don't cry, Di," said Anne
cheerily. "I know exactly what
to do for croup. You forget that
Mrs. Hammond had twins three
times. When you look after three
pairs of twins you naturally
get a lot of experience. They
all had croup regularly. Just
wait till I get the ipecac bottle--you
mayn't have any at your house.
Come on now."
The two little girls hastened
out hand in hand and hurried
through Lover's Lane and across
the crusted field beyond, for
the snow was too deep to go by
the shorter wood way. Anne, although
sincerely sorry for Minnie May,
was far from being insensible
to the romance of the situation
and to the sweetness of once
more sharing that romance with
a kindred spirit.
The night was clear and frosty,
all ebony of shadow and silver
of snowy slope; big stars were
shining over the silent fields;
here and there the dark pointed
firs stood up with snow powdering
their branches and the wind whistling
through them. Anne thought it
was truly delightful to go skimming
through all this mystery and
loveliness with your bosom friend
who had been so long estranged.
Minnie May, aged three, was
really very sick. She lay on
the kitchen sofa feverish and
restless, while her hoarse breathing
could be heard all over the house.
Young Mary Joe, a buxom, broad-faced
French girl from the creek, whom
Mrs. Barry had engaged to stay
with the children during her
absence, was helpless and bewildered,
quite incapable of thinking what
to do, or doing it if she thought
of it.
Anne went to work with skill
and promptness.
"Minnie May
has croup all right; she's
pretty bad, but I've seen
them worse. First we must have
lots of hot water. I declare,
Diana, there isn't more than
a cupful in the kettle! There,
I've filled it up, and, Mary
Joe, you may put some wood in
the stove. I don't want to hurt
your feelings but it seems to
me you might have thought of
this before if you'd any imagination.
Now, I'll undress Minnie May
and put her to bed and you try
to find some soft flannel cloths,
Diana. I'm going to give her
a dose of ipecac first of all."
Minnie May did not take kindly
to the ipecac but Anne had not
brought up three pairs of twins
for nothing. Down that ipecac
went, not only once, but many
times during the long, anxious
night when the two little girls
worked patiently over the suffering
Minnie May, and Young Mary Joe,
honestly anxious to do all she
could, kept up a roaring fire
and heated more water than would
have been needed for a hospital
of croupy babies.
It was three o'clock when Matthew
came with a doctor, for he had
been obliged to go all the way
to Spencervale for one. But the
pressing need for assistance
was past. Minnie May was much
better and was sleeping soundly.
"I was awfully near giving
up in despair," explained Anne. "She
got worse and worse until she
was sicker than ever the Hammond
twins were, even the last pair.
I actually thought she was going
to choke to death. I gave her
every drop of ipecac in that
bottle and when the last dose
went down I said to myself--not
to Diana or Young Mary Joe, because
I didn't want to worry them any
more than they were worried,
but I had to say it to myself
just to relieve my feelings--`This
is the last lingering hope and
I fear, tis a vain one.' But
in about three minutes she coughed
up the phlegm and began to get
better right away. You must just
imagine my relief, doctor, because
I can't express it in words.
You know there are some things
that cannot be expressed in words."
"Yes, I know," nodded
the doctor. He looked at Anne
as if he were
thinking some things about her
that couldn't be expressed in
words. Later on, however, he
expressed them to Mr. and Mrs.
Barry.
"That little
redheaded girl they have over
at Cuthbert's
is as smart as they make 'em.
I tell you she saved that baby's
life, for it would have been
too late by the time I got there.
She seems to have a skill and
presence of mind perfectly wonderful
in a child of her age. I never
saw anything like the eyes of
her when she was explaining the
case to me."
Anne had gone home in the wonderful,
white-frosted winter morning,
heavy eyed from loss of sleep,
but still talking unweariedly
to Matthew as they crossed the
long white field and walked under
the glittering fairy arch of
the Lover's Lane maples.
"Oh, Matthew,
isn't it a wonderful morning?
The world looks like
something God had just imagined
for His own pleasure, doesn't
it? Those trees look as if I
could blow them away with a breath--pouf!
I'm so glad I live in a world
where there are white frosts,
aren't you? And I'm so glad Mrs.
Hammond had three pairs of twins
after all. If she hadn't I mightn't
have known what to do for Minnie
May. I'm real sorry I was ever
cross with Mrs. Hammond for having
twins. But, oh, Matthew, I'm
so sleepy. I can't go to school.
I just know I couldn't keep my
eyes open and I'd be so stupid.
But l hate to stay home, for
Gil--some of the others will
get head of the class, and it's
so hard to get up again--although
of course the harder it is the
more satisfaction you have when
you do get up, haven't you?"
"Well now, I guess you'll manage
all right," said Matthew, looking
at Anne's white little face and
the dark shadows under her eyes. "You
just go right to bed and have
a good sleep. I'll do all the
chores."
Anne accordingly went to bed
and slept so long and soundly
that it was well on in the white
and rosy winter afternoon when
she awoke and descended to the
kitchen where Marilla, who had
arrived home in the meantime,
was sitting knitting.
"Oh, did you see the Premier?" exclaimed
Anne at once. "What did he look
like Marilla?"
"Well, he never got to be Premier
on account of his looks," said
Marilla. "Such a nose as that
man had! But he can speak. I
was proud of being a Conservative.
Rachel Lynde, of course, being
a Liberal, had no use for him.
Your dinner is in the oven, Anne,
and you can get yourself some
blue plum preserve out of the
pantry. I guess you're hungry.
Matthew has been telling me about
last night. I must say it was
fortunate you knew what to do.
I wouldn't have had any idea
myself, for I never saw a case
of croup. There now, never mind
talking till you've had your
dinner. I can tell by the look
of you that you're just full
up with speeches, but they'll
keep."
Marilla had something to tell
Anne, but she did not tell it
just then for she knew if she
did Anne's consequent excitement
would lift her clear out of the
region of such material matters
as appetite or dinner. Not until
Anne had finished her saucer
of blue plums did Marilla say:
"Mrs. Barry
was here this afternoon, Anne.
She wanted to see you,
but I wouldn't wake you up. She
says you saved Minnie May's life,
and she is very sorry she acted
as she did in that affair of
the currant wine. She says she
knows now you didn't mean to
set Diana drunk, and she hopes
you'll forgive her and be good
friends with Diana again. You're
to go over this evening if you
like for Diana can't stir outside
the door on account of a bad
cold she caught last night. Now,
Anne Shirley, for pity's sake
don't fly up into the air."
The warning seemed not unnecessary,
so uplifted and aerial was Anne's
expression and attitude as she
sprang to her feet, her face
irradiated with the flame of
her spirit.
"Oh, Marilla,
can I go right now--without
washing my dishes?
I'll wash them when I come back,
but I cannot tie myself down
to anything so unromantic as
dishwashing at this thrilling
moment."
"Yes, yes, run along," said
Marilla indulgently. "Anne Shirley--are
you crazy? Come back this instant
and put something on you. I might
as well call to the wind. She's
gone without a cap or wrap. Look
at her tearing through the orchard
with her hair streaming. It'll
be a mercy if she doesn't catch
her death of cold."
Anne came dancing home in the
purple winter twilight across
the snowy places. Afar in the
southwest was the great shimmering,
pearl-like sparkle of an evening
star in a sky that was pale golden
and ethereal rose over gleaming
white spaces and dark glens of
spruce. The tinkles of sleigh
bells among the snowy hills came
like elfin chimes through the
frosty air, but their music was
not sweeter than the song in
Anne's heart and on her lips.
"You see before you a perfectly
happy person, Marilla," she announced. "I'm
perfectly happy--yes, in spite
of my red hair. Just at present
I have a soul above red hair.
Mrs. Barry kissed me and cried
and said she was so sorry and
she could never repay me. I felt
fearfully embarrassed, Marilla,
but I just said as politely as
I could, `I have no hard feelings
for you, Mrs. Barry. I assure
you once for all that I did not
mean to intoxicate Diana and
henceforth I shall cover the
past with the mantle of oblivion.'
That was a pretty dignified way
of speaking wasn't it, Marilla?
I felt that I was heaping coals
of fire on Mrs. Barry's head.
And Diana and I had a lovely
afternoon. Diana showed me a
new fancy crochet stitch her
aunt over at Carmody taught her.
Not a soul in Avonlea knows it
but us, and we pledged a solemn
vow never to reveal it to anyone
else. Diana gave me a beautiful
card with a wreath of roses on
it and a verse of poetry:
"If you love
me as I love you Nothing but
death can part us
two.
And that is
true, Marilla. We're going
to ask Mr. Phillips
to let us sit together in school
again, and Gertie Pye can go
with Minnie Andrews. We had an
elegant tea. Mrs. Barry had the
very best china set out, Marilla,
just as if I was real company.
I can't tell you what a thrill
it gave me. Nobody ever used
their very best china on my account
before. And we had fruit cake
and pound cake and doughnuts
and two kinds of preserves, Marilla.
And Mrs. Barry asked me if I
took tea and said `Pa, why don't
you pass the biscuits to Anne?'
It must be lovely to be grown
up, Marilla, when just being
treated as if you were is so
nice."
"I don't know about that," said
Marilla, with a brief sigh.
"Well, anyway, when I am grown
up," said Anne decidedly, "I'm
always going to talk to little
girls as if they were too, and
I'll never laugh when they use
big words. I know from sorrowful
experience how that hurts one's
feelings. After tea Diana and
I made taffy. The taffy wasn't
very good, I suppose because
neither Diana nor I had ever
made any before. Diana left me
to stir it while she buttered
the plates and I forgot and let
it burn; and then when we set
it out on the platform to cool
the cat walked over one plate
and that had to be thrown away.
But the making of it was splendid
fun. Then when I came home Mrs.
Barry asked me to come over as
often as I could and Diana stood
at the window and threw kisses
to me all the way down to Lover's
Lane. I assure you, Marilla,
that I feel like praying tonight
and I'm going to think out a
special brand-new prayer in honor
of the occasion."
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