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Anne of Green Gables

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Chapter XIII

Full Text Chapter XIII

Chapter XIII

The Delights of Anticipation

IT'S time Anne was
in to do her sewing," said Marilla, glancing at the clock and then out
into the yellow August afternoon where everything drowsed in the heat.
"She stayed playing with Diana more than half an hour more 'n I gave her
leave to; and now she's perched out there on the woodpile talking to
Matthew, nineteen to the dozen, when she knows perfectly well she ought to
be at her work. And of course he's listening to her like a perfect ninny.
I never saw such an infatuated man. The more she talks and the odder the
things she says, the more he's delighted evidently. Anne Shirley, you come
right in here this minute, do you hear me!"

A series of staccato taps on the west window brought Anne flying in from
the yard, eyes shining, cheeks faintly flushed with pink, unbraided hair
streaming behind her in a torrent of brightness.

"Oh, Marilla," she exclaimed breathlessly, "there's going to be a
Sunday-school picnic next week—in Mr. Harmon Andrews's field, right
near the lake of Shining Waters. And Mrs. Superintendent Bell and Mrs.
Rachel Lynde are going to make ice cream—think of it, Marilla—ice
And, oh, Marilla, can I go to it?"

"Just look at the clock, if you please, Anne. What time did I tell you to
come in?"

"Two o'clock—but isn't it splendid about the picnic, Marilla? Please
can I go? Oh, I've never been to a picnic—I've dreamed of picnics,
but I've never—"

"Yes, I told you to come at two o'clock. And it's a quarter to three. I'd
like to know why you didn't obey me, Anne."

"Why, I meant to, Marilla, as much as could be. But you have no idea how
fascinating Idlewild is. And then, of course, I had to tell Matthew about
the picnic. Matthew is such a sympathetic listener. Please can I go?"

"You'll have to learn to resist the fascination of
Idle-whatever-you-call-it. When I tell you to come in at a certain time I
mean that time and not half an hour later. And you needn't stop to
discourse with sympathetic listeners on your way, either. As for the
picnic, of course you can go. You're a Sunday-school scholar, and it's not
likely I'd refuse to let you go when all the other little girls are

"But—but," faltered Anne, "Diana says that everybody must take a
basket of things to eat. I can't cook, as you know, Marilla, and—and—I
don't mind going to a picnic without puffed sleeves so much, but I'd feel
terribly humiliated if I had to go without a basket. It's been preying on
my mind ever since Diana told me."

"Well, it needn't prey any longer. I'll bake you a basket."

"Oh, you dear good Marilla. Oh, you are so kind to me. Oh, I'm so much
obliged to you."

Getting through with her "ohs" Anne cast herself into Marilla's arms and
rapturously kissed her sallow cheek. It was the first time in her whole
life that childish lips had voluntarily touched Marilla's face. Again that
sudden sensation of startling sweetness thrilled her. She was secretly
vastly pleased at Anne's impulsive caress, which was probably the reason
why she said brusquely:

"There, there, never mind your kissing nonsense. I'd sooner see you doing
strictly as you're told. As for cooking, I mean to begin giving you
lessons in that some of these days. But you're so featherbrained, Anne,
I've been waiting to see if you'd sober down a little and learn to be
steady before I begin. You've got to keep your wits about you in cooking
and not stop in the middle of things to let your thoughts rove all over
creation. Now, get out your patchwork and have your square done before

"I do not like patchwork," said Anne dolefully, hunting out her
workbasket and sitting down before a little heap of red and white diamonds
with a sigh. "I think some kinds of sewing would be nice; but there's no
scope for imagination in patchwork. It's just one little seam after
another and you never seem to be getting anywhere. But of course I'd
rather be Anne of Green Gables sewing patchwork than Anne of any other
place with nothing to do but play. I wish time went as quick sewing
patches as it does when I'm playing with Diana, though. Oh, we do have
such elegant times, Marilla. I have to furnish most of the imagination,
but I'm well able to do that. Diana is simply perfect in every other way.
You know that little piece of land across the brook that runs up between
our farm and Mr. Barry's. It belongs to Mr. William Bell, and right in the
corner there is a little ring of white birch trees—the most romantic
spot, Marilla. Diana and I have our playhouse there. We call it Idlewild.
Isn't that a poetical name? I assure you it took me some time to think it
out. I stayed awake nearly a whole night before I invented it. Then, just
as I was dropping off to sleep, it came like an inspiration. Diana was enraptured
when she heard it. We have got our house fixed up elegantly. You must come
and see it, Marilla—won't you? We have great big stones, all covered
with moss, for seats, and boards from tree to tree for shelves. And we
have all our dishes on them. Of course, they're all broken but it's the
easiest thing in the world to imagine that they are whole. There's a piece
of a plate with a spray of red and yellow ivy on it that is especially
beautiful. We keep it in the parlor and we have the fairy glass there,
too. The fairy glass is as lovely as a dream. Diana found it out in the
woods behind their chicken house. It's all full of rainbows—just
little young rainbows that haven't grown big yet—and Diana's mother
told her it was broken off a hanging lamp they once had. But it's nice to
imagine the fairies lost it one night when they had a ball, so we call it
the fairy glass. Matthew is going to make us a table. Oh, we have named
that little round pool over in Mr. Barry's field Willowmere. I got that
name out of the book Diana lent me. That was a thrilling book, Marilla.
The heroine had five lovers. I'd be satisfied with one, wouldn't you? She
was very handsome and she went through great tribulations. She could faint
as easy as anything. I'd love to be able to faint, wouldn't you, Marilla?
It's so romantic. But I'm really very healthy for all I'm so thin. I
believe I'm getting fatter, though. Don't you think I am? I look at my
elbows every morning when I get up to see if any dimples are coming. Diana
is having a new dress made with elbow sleeves. She is going to wear it to
the picnic. Oh, I do hope it will be fine next Wednesday. I don't feel
that I could endure the disappointment if anything happened to prevent me
from getting to the picnic. I suppose I'd live through it, but I'm certain
it would be a lifelong sorrow. It wouldn't matter if I got to a hundred
picnics in after years; they wouldn't make up for missing this one.
They're going to have boats on the Lake of Shining Waters—and ice
cream, as I told you. I have never tasted ice cream. Diana tried to
explain what it was like, but I guess ice cream is one of those things
that are beyond imagination."

"Anne, you have talked even on for ten minutes by the clock," said
Marilla. "Now, just for curiosity's sake, see if you can hold your tongue
for the same length of time."

Anne held her tongue as desired. But for the rest of the week she talked
picnic and thought picnic and dreamed picnic. On Saturday it rained and
she worked herself up into such a frantic state lest it should keep on
raining until and over Wednesday that Marilla made her sew an extra
patchwork square by way of steadying her nerves.

On Sunday Anne confided to Marilla on the way home from church that she
grew actually cold all over with excitement when the minister announced
the picnic from the pulpit.

"Such a thrill as went up and down my back, Marilla! I don't think I'd
ever really believed until then that there was honestly going to be a
picnic. I couldn't help fearing I'd only imagined it. But when a minister
says a thing in the pulpit you just have to believe it."

"You set your heart too much on things, Anne," said Marilla, with a sigh.
"I'm afraid there'll be a great many disappointments in store for you
through life."

"Oh, Marilla, looking forward to things is half the pleasure of them,"
exclaimed Anne. "You mayn't get the things themselves; but nothing can
prevent you from having the fun of looking forward to them. Mrs. Lynde
says, 'Blessed are they who expect nothing for they shall not be
disappointed.' But I think it would be worse to expect nothing than to be

Marilla wore her amethyst brooch to church that day as usual. Marilla
always wore her amethyst brooch to church. She would have thought it
rather sacrilegious to leave it off—as bad as forgetting her Bible
or her collection dime. That amethyst brooch was Marilla's most treasured
possession. A seafaring uncle had given it to her mother who in turn had
bequeathed it to Marilla. It was an old-fashioned oval, containing a braid
of her mother's hair, surrounded by a border of very fine amethysts.
Marilla knew too little about precious stones to realize how fine the
amethysts actually were; but she thought them very beautiful and was
always pleasantly conscious of their violet shimmer at her throat, above
her good brown satin dress, even although she could not see it.

Anne had been smitten with delighted admiration when she first saw that

"Oh, Marilla, it's a perfectly elegant brooch. I don't know how you can
pay attention to the sermon or the prayers when you have it on. I
couldn't, I know. I think amethysts are just sweet. They are what I used
to think diamonds were like. Long ago, before I had ever seen a diamond, I
read about them and I tried to imagine what they would be like. I thought
they would be lovely glimmering purple stones. When I saw a real diamond
in a lady's ring one day I was so disappointed I cried. Of course, it was
very lovely but it wasn't my idea of a diamond. Will you let me hold the
brooch for one minute, Marilla? Do you think amethysts can be the souls of
good violets?"