LITMIR.BIZ

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to help Matthew on the farm. A girl is useless to us. Take off your hat. I'll lay it and your bag on the hall table.”

      Anne took off her hat meekly. Matthew came back presently and they sat down to supper. But Anne did not eat. In vain she nibbled at the bread and butter.

      "You do not eat anything,” said Marilla sharply.

      Anne sighed.

      "I can't. I'm in the depths of despair. Have you ever been in the depths of despair?”

      "In the depths of despair? Never,” responded Marilla.

      "Weren't you? Well, did you ever try to imagine you were in the depths of despair?”

      "No, I didn't.”

      "Then I don't think you can understand what it's like. It's a very uncomfortable feeling indeed. When you try to eat but you can't swallow anything, not even a chocolate caramel. I had one chocolate caramel once two years ago and it was delicious. Everything is extremely nice, but still I cannot eat.”

      "I guess she's tired,” said Matthew. "Put her to bed, Marilla.”

      Marilla prepared a couch in the kitchen chamber for the boy. But for the girl? Marilla lighted a candle and told Anne to follow her. Anne took her hat and carpet-bag from the hall table. They entered the little gable chamber.

      "I suppose you have a nightgown?” Marilla questioned.

      Anne nodded.

      "Yes, I have two. The matron of the asylum made them for me. They're fearfully skimpy. I hate skimpy night-dresses. But one can dream in them, that's one consolation.”

      "Well, undress quickly and go to bed. I'll come back in a few minutes for the candle.”

      Anne looked around her wistfully. The whitewashed walls were painfully bare. The floor was bare, too, except for a round braided mat in the middle. In one corner was the high, old-fashioned bed. In the other corner was the aforesaid three-corner table. Above it hung a little mirror. Between table and bed there was the window. With a sob Anne hastily discarded her garments, put on the skimpy nightgown and sprang into bed. She burrowed face downward into the pillow and pulled the blanket over her head.

      Marilla came again and deliberately picked up Anne's clothes, placed them neatly on a prim yellow chair, then took up the candle and went over to the bed.

      "Good night,” she said, a little awkwardly, but not unkindly.

      Anne's white face and big eyes appeared over the bedclothes.

      "How can you call it a good night when you know it must be the worst night in my life?” she said reproachfully.

      Marilla went slowly down to the kitchen and proceeded to wash the dishes. Matthew was silent.

      "Well,” Marilla said wrathfully, "one of us will drive over and see Mrs. Spencer tomorrow. This girl will go back to the asylum.”

      "Yes, I suppose so,” said Matthew reluctantly.

      "You suppose so! Don't you know it? Matthew Cuthbert, I believe that child bewitched you! I can see that you want to keep her.”

      "Well now, she's interesting,” persisted Matthew.

      "Oh, she can talk fast enough. And I don't like children who have so much to say. I don't want an orphan girl, that's all. There's something I don't understand about her. No, she will go back to where she came from.”

      "Of course, Marilla,” said Matthew.

      Chapter IV

      Morning at Green Gables

      Anne awoke and sat up in bed. She stared confusedly at the window. Her eyes glistened with delight. Oh, wasn't it beautiful? Wasn't it a lovely place? She wanted to stay here!

      A huge cherry-tree grew outside. On both sides of the house was a big orchard, one of apple-trees and one of cherry-trees. In the garden below were lilac-trees purple with flowers. This place was lovely!

      She noticed a hand on her shoulder.

      "It's time to dress,” Marilla said curtly. "Get dressed[10] and come downstairs.” said Marilla. "Breakfast is ready. Wash your face and comb your hair.”

      Anne was downstairs in ten minutes' time.

      "I'm very hungry this morning,” she announced. "The world doesn't seem such a wilderness as it did last night. I'm so glad it's a sunshiny morning. But I like rainy mornings, too. All sorts of mornings are interesting, don't you think?”

      "Hold your tongue,” said Marilla. "You talk too much for a little girl.”

      Anne held her tongue obediently. She ate mechanically. Her big eyes were fixed on the sky outside the window. This made Marilla more nervous than ever.

      After the meal, Anne offered to wash the dishes.

      "Take plenty of hot water,” said Marilla. "and be sure you dry them well. I'll drive over to White Sands in the afternoon and see Mrs. Spencer. You'll come with me.”

      Anne washed the dishes deftly enough.

      "What is the name of that geranium on the window-sill, please?”

      "That's the apple-scented geranium.”

      "Oh, I mean just a name you gave it yourself. Didn't you give it a name? May I call it Bonny while I'm here?”

      "Why do you name it?”

      "Oh, I like that – when things have names. Even if they are only geraniums. I shall call the geranium Bonny. I named that cherry-tree outside my bedroom window this morning. I called it Snow Queen because it was so white.”

      "She is interesting, indeed, as Matthew says,” muttered Marilla. Then she turned to her brother. "I suppose I can have the mare and buggy this afternoon, Matthew?” said Marilla.

      Matthew nodded. Marilla said grimly:

      "I'll drive over to White Sands. I'll take Anne with me and Mrs. Spencer will probably make arrangements to send her back to Nova Scotia at once.”

      Chapter V

      Anne's History

      "Do you know,” said Anne confidentially, "I want to enjoy this drive. You can nearly always enjoy things if you want. I won't think about the asylum. I'll think about the drive. We will go across the Lake of Shining Waters today, won't we?”

      "We won't go over Barry's pond, if that's what you mean by your Lake of Shining Waters. We will go by the shore road[11].”

      "Shore road sounds nice,” said Anne dreamily.

      "Tell me what you know about yourself.”

      "Oh, what I know about myself isn't really interesting,” said Anne eagerly. "I was eleven last March. And I was born in Bolingbroke, Nova Scotia. My father's name was Walter Shirley, and he was a teacher. My mother's name was Bertha Shirley. My mother was a teacher in the High school. They went to live in a little yellow house in Bolingbroke. My mother died of fever[12] when I was just three months old. And my father died four days afterwards from fever too. Nobody wanted me even then. It is my fate. But Mrs. Thomas took me, though she was poor and had a drunken husband. I lived with them until I was eight years old. I helped look after the children – there were four of them. Then Mr. Thomas fell under a train, and his mother offered to take Mrs. Thomas and the children, but she didn't want me. Then Mrs. Hammond took me. I lived with her in a little house among the stumps. It was a very lonesome place. Mrs. Hammond had eight children. She had twins three times. I lived with Mrs. Hammond for over two years, and then Mr. Hammond died. Mrs. Hammond divided her children among her relatives and went to the States. I went to the asylum at Hopeton, because nobody wanted to take me. I was there four months until Mrs. Spencer came.”

      "Did you ever go to school?” demanded Marilla.

      "Not much. I went a little the last year I stayed with Mrs. Thomas. And of

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