en-de  Anne of Green Gables /Chapter III Medium
3. Kapitel


Marilla Cuthbert ist überrascht.


Marilla kam schnell hervor als Matthew die Tür öffnete. ... Als aber ihr Blick auf die komische, kleine Figur in dem steifen, hässlichen Kleid fiel, mit den langen Zöpfen aus rotem Haar und den begierigen, erwartungsvoll leuchtenden Augen, hielt sie vor Erstaunen kurz inne. ...

"Matthew Cuthbert, wer ist das?" stieß sie aus. "Wo ist der Junge?"

" Es gab keinen Jungen", sagte Matthew jämmerlich. "Es gab nur sie."

Er nickte dem Kind zu und es fiel ihm ein, dass er sie noch nicht einmal nach ihrem Namen gefragt hatte.

"Kein Junge! Aber dort muss ein Junge gewesen sein", beharrte Marilla. " Wir schickten Mrs. Spencer die Nachricht, einen Jungen zu bringen."

"Nun, sie tat es nicht. Sie brachte sie. Ich fragte den Bahnhofsvorsteher. Und ich musste sie mit nach Hause bringen. Sie konnte dort nicht bleiben, ganz gleich, wo der Fehler entstanden ist.

"Nun, das ist eine ganz schöne Bescherung!" ... stieß Marilla aus.

Während dieses Dialogs war das Kind stumm geblieben, seine Augen wanderten von einem zum anderen und alle Lebhaftigkeit wich aus seinem Gesicht. Plötzlich schien sie die volle Bedeutung von dem, was gesagt worden war, zu erfassen. Als sie ihre kostbare Reisetasche fallen ließ, sprang sie einen Schritt vorwärts und faltete ihre Hände.

"Sie wollen mich nicht!" rief sie. "Sie wollen mich nicht, weil ich kein Junge bin! Ich hätte es ahnen können. ... Niemand hat mich jemals gewollt. Ich hätte wissen müssen, dass alles zu schön war um anzudauern. Ich hätte wissen können, dass mich niemand wirklich wollte. Oh, was soll ich machen? Ich werde in Tränen ausbrechen!"

Sie brach in Tränen aus. Sie setzte sich auf einen Stuhl am Tisch, warf ihre Arme darauf, verbarg ihr Gesicht in ihnen und setzte ihr heftiges Weinen fort. Marilla und Matthew sahen einander missbilligend über den Herd hinweg an. Keiner von ihnen wusste was zu sagen oder zu tun war. Schließlich sprang Marilla lahm in die Bresche.

"Nun gut, es ist nicht nötig so darüber zu heulen."

"Doch, es ist nötig!" Das Kind hob schnell den Kopf, und gab ein tränenverschmiertes Gesicht und zitternde Lippen preis.... "Sie würden auch weinen, wenn Sie ein Waisenkind wären und an einen Ort gekommen wären, von dem sie dachten, dass er Ihr Zuhause werden würde, und heraus fänden, dass man Sie nicht haben wollte, weil Sie kein Junge sind. ... Das ist das Tragischste, was mir je passiert ist!"...

Etwas wie ein zögerndes Lächeln, ziemlich eingerostet, da lange nicht mehr gebraucht, milderte Marillas grimmigen Gesichtsausdruck.

"Na, weine nicht mehr. Wir werden dich heute Abend nicht vor die Tür setzen. Du musst hier bleiben solange wir diese Angelegenheit prüfen. Wie heißt du?"

Das Kind zögerte einen Moment.

"Würden Sie mich bitte Cordelia nennen?" sagte sie eifrig.

"Dich Cordelia nennen! Ist das dein Name?“

"Nein, nein, es ist nicht wirklich mein Name, aber ich würde liebend gerne Cordelia genannt werden. Es ist ein so vollkommen geschmackvoller Name.“

"Ich weiß nicht, was um alles in der Welt du meinst. Wenn du nicht Cordelia heißt, wie heißt du dann?" ...

"Anne Shirley", brachte die Eigentümerin des Namens widerstrebend heraus, "aber, oh, bitte nennen Sie mich doch Cordelia. Es kann Ihnen nicht viel ausmachen, wie Sie mich nennen, wenn ich nur eine kurze Weile hier sein werde, stimmt's? ... Und Anne ist so ein unromantischer Name."

"Unromantischer Unsinn!" sagte die verständnislose Marilla. "Anne ist ein wirklich guter, einfacher, vernünftiger Name. Du brauchst dich deswegen nicht zu schämen."

"Oh, ich schäme mich nicht für ihn", erklärte Anne, "ich mag nur Cordelia lieber. Ich habe mir immer vorgestellt, dass mein Name Cordelia wäre - zumindest immer in den letzten Jahren. ... Als ich klein war, stellte ich mir gewöhnlich vor, ich wäre Geraldine, aber nun mag ich Cordelia lieber.... Aber wenn Sie mich Anne nennen, bitte nennen Sie mich Anne buchstabiert mit einem e." " Welchen Unterschied macht es, wie es buchstabiert wird?" fragte Marilla mit einem weiteren rostigen Lächeln, als sie die Teekanne aufnahm. ...

"Oh, es macht solch einen Unterschied. Es sieht so viel schöner aus. Wenn Sie einen Namen ausgesprochen hören, können Sie ihn sich dann nicht immer vorstellen, als sei er gedruckt? ... Ich kann es, und A-n-n sieht schrecklich aus, aber A-n-n-e sieht so viel vornehmer aus. Wenn Sie mich wenigstens Anne, mit einem "e" buchstabiert, rufen werden, werde ich mich damit abfinden, dass ich nicht Cordelia gerufen werde." ...

"Also gut, Anne buchstabiert mit einem e: kannst du uns sagen, wie dieser Fehler zustande gekommen ist? Wir schickten Mrs. Spencer eine Nachricht, uns einen Jungen zu bringen. ... Gab es keine Jungen im Heim?"

"Oh, ja, es gab jede Menge von ihnen. ... Aber Mrs. Spencer sagte deutlich, dass Sie ein Mädchen um die 11 Jahre wollten. Und die Oberin sagte, sie dächte, ich würde es sein. Sie wissen nicht, wie erfreut ich war. Ich konnte die ganze letzte Nacht nicht schlafen vor Freude. Oh," fügte sie vorwurfsvoll hinzu und wandte sich an Matthew, "warum sagten Sie mir nicht am Bahnhof, dass Sie mich nicht wollten und ließen mich dort? Wenn ich nicht den Weißen Weg der Freude und den See des glitzernden Wassers gesehen hätte, wäre es nicht so schwer."

"Was in aller Welt meint sie?" fragte Marilla nach und starrte auf Matthew. ...

"Sie - sie bezieht sich nur auf ein Gespräch, das wir unterwegs hatten", sagte Matthew hastig. ... "Ich gehe raus, um die Stute einzustellen, Marilla. Halte den Tee bereit, wenn ich zurückkomme." ...

"Hat Mrs. Spencer außer Ihnen noch jemanden hergebracht?" ... fuhr Marilla fort, als Matthew hinausgegangen war.

"Sie brachte Lily Jones für sich selbst mit. Lily ist nur fünf Jahre alt und sie ist sehr schön. Sie hat nussbraune Haare. Wenn ich sehr schön wäre und nussbraune Haare hätte, würden Sie mich behalten?

"Nein. Wir wollen einen Jungen, der Matthew auf der Farm hilft. ... Ein Mädchen wäre für uns nicht von Nutzen. Nimm deinen Hut ab. Ich werde ihn und deine Tasche auf den Flurtisch legen."

Kleinlaut nahm Anne ihren Hut ab. Matthew kam bald zurück und sie setzten sich zum Abendessen hin. Aber Anne konnte nicht essen. Vergeblich knabberte sie an Brot und Butter und pickte am Krabben-Apfel-Eingemachten aus der kleinen muschelförmigen Glasschale neben ihrem Teller. Sie kam nicht wirklich voran.

"Du isst nichts", sagte Marilla scharf und musterte sie, als ob es ein gravierender Mangel wäre.

Anne seufzte.

"Ich kann nicht. Ich bin in tiefster Verzweiflung. Können Sie essen, wenn Sie in tiefster Verzweiflung sind?" ...

"Ich bin nie in tiefster Verzweiflung gewesen, daher kann ich es nicht sagen", antwortete Marilla....

"Waren Sie nicht? Nun, haben Sie jemals versucht, sich vorzustellen, Sie wären in tiefster Verzweiflung?"

"Nein, habe ich nicht."

" Dann glaube ich nicht, dass Sie verstehen, wie es ist. Es ist tatsächlich ein sehr mulmiges Gefühl. Wenn Sie versuchen zu essen, kommt ein Klumpen bis in Ihren Hals und Sie können nichts schlucken, nicht einmal dann, wenn es ein Schokoladenkaramell wäre. ... Ich hatte einmal vor zwei Jahren einen Schokoladenkaramell und er war einfach köstlich. ... Seitdem habe ich oft geträumt, dass ich viele Schokoladenkaramellbonbons hatte, aber immer wenn ich sie gerade essen will, wache ich auf. Ich hoffe, Sie sind nicht beleidigt, weil ich nichts essen kann. Alles ist besonders schön, aber ich kann trotzdem nicht essen."

"Ich schätze, sie ist müde", sagte Matthew, der seit seiner Rückkehr aus dem Stall nicht mehr gesprochen hatte. "Bring sie besser ins Bett, Marilla."

Marilla hatte sich gefragt, wo Anne ins Bett gebracht werden sollte. Sie hatte ein Sofa in der Küche für den erwünschten und erwarteten Jungen vorbereitet. Aber, obwohl es peinlich sauber war, schien es irgendwie nicht ganz das Richtige, ein Mädchen dort unterzubringen. Aber das Fremdenzimmer kam für ein derart heimatloses Kind nicht in Frage, so blieb nur das Ostgiebelzimmer. Marilla zündete eine Kerze an und sagte Anne, sie solle ihr folgen, was Anne lustlos tat, indem sie ihren Hut und ihre Reisetasche vom Dielentisch nahm, als sie daran vorbeikam. Die Halle war furchtbar sauber; die kleine Giebelkammer, in der sie sich jetzt wiederfand, schien sogar noch sauberer zu sein.

Marilla stellte die Kerze auf einen dreibeinigen, dreieckigen Tisch und schlug das Bettzeug zurück. ...

"Ich nehme an, du hast ein Nachthemd?" fragte sie,

Anne nickte.

"Ja, ich habe zwei. Die Oberin des Waisenhauses hat sie für mich gemacht. Sie sind fürchterlich knapp. Es ist nie genug da, damit es in einem Waisenhaus reicht, daher sind die Dinge immer knapp - besonders in so einem armen Waisenhaus wie unserem. Ich hasse knappe Nachthemden. Aber man kann in ihnen genauso gut träumen wie in solchen mit schönen Schleppen, mit Rüschen um den Hals, das ist ein Trost."

"Gut, zieh dich so schnell wie möglich aus und geh ins Bett. Ich werde gleich zurückkommen wegen der Kerze. Ich wage nicht dir zu vertrauen, sie selber zu löschen. Du würdest wahrscheinlich alles in Brand setzen."

Als Marilla gegangen war, sah Anne sich wehmütig um. Die weiß getünchten Wände waren so schrecklich kahl und bedrohlich, dass sie dachte, sie müßten unter ihrer eigenen Kahlheit leiden. Der Boden war ebenfalls kahl, außer einer runden, geflochtenen Matte in der Mitte, wie sie Anne noch nie zuvor gesehen hatte. ... In einer Ecke war das Bett, ein hohes altmodisches, mit vier dunklen gedrechselten Pfosten. In der anderen Ecke war der besagte dreieckige Tisch, geschmückt mit einem dicken roten Samtnadelkissen, hart genug, um die kühnsten Nadeln in die Flucht zu schlagen. Darüber hing ein kleiner, sechs mal acht Zoll großer Spiegel. Auf halbem Weg zwischen Tisch und Bett war das Fenster, mit einer frost-weißen Musselinrüsche darüber und gegenüber befand sich der Waschtisch. Das ganze Gemach war von solch einer unbeschreiblichen Steifheit, dass ein Schauer bis ins Mark von Annes Knochen drang. Mit einem Schluchzen legte sie ihre Kleider ab, schlüpfte in das dünne Nachthemd und sprang ins Bett, wo sie ihr Gesicht im Kissen vergrub und die Kleider über ihren Kopf zog. Als Marilla wegen der Kerze hochkam, waren verschiedene dünne Kleidungsstücke, die sehr unordentlich über den Fußboden verteilt waren, und ein gewisses turbulentes Erscheinungsbild des Betts die einzigen Anzeichen für die Anwesenheit von irgendjemandem außer ihr selbst.

Sie hob gezielt Annes Kleider auf, legte sie ordentlich auf einen sauberen, gelben Stuhl und dann ging sie, die Kerze nehmend, hinüber zum Bett.

"Gute Nacht", sagte sie ein bisschen ungelenk, aber nicht unfreundlich.

Annes weißes Gesicht und große Augen erschienen plötzlich und unerwartet über dem Bettzeug. ...

"Wie können Sie es eine gute Nacht nennen, wenn Sie wissen, es muss für mich die schrecklichste Nacht sein, die ich jemals hatte? sagte sie vorwurfsvoll.

Dann tauchte sie wieder in die Unsichtbarkeit hinab.

Marilla ging langsam zur Küche hinunter und setzte den Abwasch des Abendbrotgeschirrs fort. Matthew rauchte - ein sicheres Zeichen seiner Gemütsunruhe. Er rauchte selten, denn Marilla stellte sich dagegen, da sie es für eine schmutzige Angewohnheit hielt; aber zu gewissen Zeiten und an Feiertagen spürte er einen Drang danach und dann machte Marilla gute Mine dazu, realisierend, dass ein einfacher Mann irgendein Ventil für seine Emotionen haben muss.

"Also, das ist eine schöne Bescherung", sagte sie zornig. ... "Das kommt davon, wenn wir eine Nachricht schicken, anstatt selbst zu gehen.... Robert Spencers Leute haben diese Nachricht irgendwie durcheinander gebracht.... Einer von uns wird morgen hinüberfahren müssen um Mrs. Spencer zu besuchen, das ist sicher.... Dieses Mädchen wird in das Waisenhaus zurückgeschickt werden müssen."

"Ja, ich nehme es an", sagte Matthew widerstrebend.

"Du nimmst es an! Du weißt es nicht?"

"Nun ja, sie ist ein wirklich nettes kleines Ding, Marilla. Es ist irgendwie schade, sie zurückzuschicken, wenn sie so sehr darauf erpicht ist hier zu bleiben." ...

"Matthew Cuthbert, du willst damit nicht sagen, dass du denkst, wir sollten sie hierbehalten!"

Marillas Erstaunen hätte nicht größer sein können, wenn Matthew eine Vorliebe für Kopfstand zum Ausdruck gebracht hätte....

"Nun ja, nein, ich vermute nicht - nicht wirklich", stammelte Matthew, der sich unbehaglich in die Ecke getrieben fühlte, für das, was er genau gemeint hatte.... "Ich vermute - man könnte kaum von uns erwarten, sie zu behalten."

"Ich würde sagen, nein. Wozu wäre sie gut für uns?"...

"Vielleicht könnten wir ein bisschen gut zu ihr sein", sagte Matthew plötzlich und unerwartet.

"Matthew Cuthbert, ich glaube dieses Kind hat dich verhext! Ich sehe klar und deutlich, dass du sie behalten willst." ...

"Also, sie ist ein wirklich interessantes kleines Ding", beharrte Matthew. "Du hättest sie reden hören sollen, als wir vom Bahnhof kamen."

"Oh, sie kann schnell genug reden. Das merkte ich sofort. Es ist auch nichts, was für sie spricht. Ich mag keine Kinder, die so viel zu sagen haben. Ich will kein Mädchen aus dem Waisenhaus, und falls ich eines wollte, ist sie nicht der Typ, den ich aussuchen würde. Da ist etwas, was ich an ihr nicht verstehe. Nein, sie muss geradewegs dorthin zurückgeschickt werden, wo sie hergekommen ist."

"Ich könnte einen französischen Jungen einstellen, der mir helfen soll", sagte Matthew, "und sie könnte dir Gesellschaft leisten."...

"Ich brauche keine Gesellschaft", sagte Marilla kurz angebunden. "Und ich werde sie nicht behalten."

"Nun ja, es ist natürlich so wie du sagst, Marilla", sagte Matthew, stand auf und legte seine Pfeife weg. "Ich gehe ins Bett."

Matthew ging zu Bett. Und sehr entschlossen die Stirn runzelnd, ging Marilla zu Bett, als sie den Abwasch weggeräumt hatte. Und oben im östlichen Giebelzimmer weinte sich ein einsames Kind, das geliebt werden wollte und keine Freunde hatte, in den Schlaf.
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CHAPTER III.
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MARILLA CUTHBERT IS SURPRISED.
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Marilla came briskly forward as Matthew opened the door.
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"Matthew Cuthbert, who's that?"
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she ejaculated.
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"Where is the boy?"
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"There wasn't any boy," said Matthew wretchedly.
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"There was only her."
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He nodded at the child, remembering that he had never even asked her name.
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"No boy!
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But there must have been a boy," insisted Marilla.
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"We sent word to Mrs. Spencer to bring a boy."
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"Well, she didn't.
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She brought her.
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I asked the station-master.
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And I had to bring her home.
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She couldn't be left there, no matter where the mistake had come in."
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"Well, this is a pretty piece of business!"
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ejaculated Marilla.
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Suddenly she seemed tograsp the full meaning of what had been said.
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Dropping her precious carpet-bag she sprang forward a step and clasped her hands.
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"You don't want me!"
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she cried.
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"You don't want me because I'm not a boy!
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I might have expected it.
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Nobody ever did want me.
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I might have known it was all too beautiful to last.
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I might have known nobody really did want me.
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Oh, what shall I do?
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I'm going to burst into tears!"
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Burst into tears she did.
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Marilla and Matthew looked at each other deprecatingly across the stove.
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Neither of them knew what to say or do.
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Finally Marilla stepped lamely into the breach.
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"Well, well, there's no need to cry so about it."
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"Yes, there is need!"
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The child raised her head quickly, revealing a tear-stained face and trembling lips.
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Oh, this is the most tragical thing that ever happened to me!"
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"Well, don't cry any more.
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We're not going to turn you out-of-doors to-night.
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You'll have to stay here until we investigate this affair.
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What's your name?"
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The child hesitated for a moment.
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"Will you please call me Cordelia?"
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she said eagerly.
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"Call you Cordelia!
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Is that your name?"
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"No-o-o, it's not exactly my name, but I would love to be called Cordelia.
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It's such a perfectly elegant name."
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"I don't know what on earth you mean.
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If Cordelia isn't your name, what is?"
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It can't matter much to you what you call me if I'm only going to be here a little while, can it?
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And Anne is such an unromantic name."
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"Unromantic fiddlesticks!"
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said the unsympathetic Marilla.
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"Anne is a real good plain sensible name.
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You've no need to be ashamed of it."
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"Oh, I'm not ashamed of it," explained Anne, "only I like Cordelia better.
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I've always imagined that my name was Cordelia—at least, I always have of late years.
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When I was young I used to imagine it was Geraldine, but I like Cordelia better now.
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asked Marilla with another rusty smile as she picked up the teapot.
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"Oh, it makes such a difference.
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It looks so much nicer.
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I can; and A-n-n looks dreadful, but A-n-n-e looks so much more distinguished.
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"Very well, then, Anne spelled with an e, can you tell us how this mistake came to be made?
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We sent word to Mrs. Spencer to bring us a boy.
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Were there no boys at the asylum?"
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"Oh, yes, there was an abundance of them.
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But Mrs. Spencer said distinctly that you wanted a girl about eleven years old.
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And the matron said she thought I would do.
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You don't know how delighted I was.
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I couldn't sleep all last night for joy.
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If I hadn't seen the White Way of Delight and the Lake of Shining Waters it wouldn't be so hard."
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"What on earth does she mean?"
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demanded Marilla, staring at Matthew.
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"She—she's just referring to some conversation we had on the road," said Matthew hastily.
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"I'm going out to put the mare in, Marilla.
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Have tea ready when I come back."
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"Did Mrs. Spencer bring anybody over besides you?"
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continued Marilla when Matthew had gone out.
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"She brought Lily Jones for herself.
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Lily is only five years old and she is very beautiful.
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She has nut-brown hair.
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If I was very beautiful and had nut-brown hair would you keep me?"
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"No.
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We want a boy to help Matthew on the farm.
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A girl would be of no use to us.
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Take off your hat.
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I'll lay it and your bag on the hall table."
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Anne took off her hat meekly.
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Matthew came back presently and they sat down to supper.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 102
But Anne could not eat.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 104
She did not really make any headway at all.
2 Translations, 0 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 105
unit 106
Anne sighed.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 107
"I can't.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 108
I'm in the depths of despair.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 109
Can you eat when you are in the depths of despair?"
3 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 110
"I've never been in the depths of despair, so I can't say," responded Marilla.
2 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 111
"Weren't you?
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 112
Well, did you ever try to imagine you were in the depths of despair?"
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 113
"No, I didn't."
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 114
"Then I don't think you can understand what it's like.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 115
It's a very uncomfortable feeling indeed.
3 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 117
I had one chocolate caramel once two years ago and it was simply delicious.
3 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 119
I do hope you won't be offended because I can't eat.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 120
Everything is extremely nice, but still I cannot eat."
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 121
"I guess she's tired," said Matthew, who hadn't spoken since his return from the barn.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 122
"Best put her to bed, Marilla."
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 123
Marilla had been wondering where Anne should be put to bed.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 124
She had prepared a couch in the kitchen chamber for the desired and expected boy.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 125
But, although it was neat and clean, it did not seem quite the thing to put a girl there somehow.
4 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 129
Marilla set the candle on a three-legged, three-cornered table and turned down the bedclothes.
4 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 130
"I suppose you have a nightgown?"
1 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 131
she questioned.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 132
Anne nodded.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 133
"Yes, I have two.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 134
The matron of the asylum made them for me.
3 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 135
They're fearfully skimpy.
2 Translations, 5 Upvotes, Last Activity 5 months ago
unit 137
I hate skimpy night-dresses.
3 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 139
"Well, undress as quick as you can and go to bed.
2 Translations, 6 Upvotes, Last Activity 5 months ago
unit 140
I'll come back in a few minutes for the candle.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 141
I daren't trust you to put it out yourself.
2 Translations, 5 Upvotes, Last Activity 5 months ago
unit 142
You'd likely set the place on fire."
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 143
When Marilla had gone Anne looked around her wistfully.
1 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 146
In one corner was the bed, a high, old-fashioned one, with four dark, low-turned posts.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 148
Above it hung a little six by eight mirror.
3 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 5 months ago
unit 154
"Good night," she said, a little awkwardly, but not unkindly.
2 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 155
Anne's white face and big eyes appeared over the bedclothes with a startling suddenness.
2 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 156
"How can you call it a good night when you know it must be the very worst night I've ever had?"
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 157
she said reproachfully.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 158
Then she dived down into invisibility again.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 159
Marilla went slowly down to the kitchen and proceeded to wash the supper dishes.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 160
Matthew was smoking—a sure sign of perturbation of mind.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 162
"Well, this is a pretty kettle of fish," she said wrathfully.
2 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 163
"This is what comes of sending word instead of going ourselves.
2 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 164
Robert Spencer's folks have twisted that message somehow.
2 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 165
One of us will have to drive over and see Mrs. Spencer to-morrow, that's certain.
2 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 166
This girl will have to be sent back to the asylum."
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 167
"Yes, I suppose so," said Matthew reluctantly.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 168
"You suppose so!
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 169
Don't you know it?"
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 170
"Well now, she's a real nice little thing, Marilla.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 171
It's kind of a pity to send her back when she's so set on staying here."
2 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 172
"Matthew Cuthbert, you don't mean to say you think we ought to keep her!"
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 175
"I suppose—we could hardly be expected to keep her."
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 176
"I should say not.
3 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 177
What good would she be to us?"
2 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 178
"We might be some good to her," said Matthew suddenly and unexpectedly.
2 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 179
"Matthew Cuthbert, I believe that child has bewitched you!
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 180
I can see as plain as plain that you want to keep her."
3 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 181
"Well now, she's a real interesting little thing," persisted Matthew.
2 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 182
"You should have heard her talk coming from the station."
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 183
"Oh, she can talk fast enough.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 184
I saw that at once.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 185
It's nothing in her favour, either.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 186
I don't like children who have so much to say.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 187
I don't want an orphan girl and if I did she isn't the style I'd pick out.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 188
There's something I don't understand about her.
2 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 189
No, she's got to be despatched straightway back to where she came from."
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 190
"I could hire a French boy to help me," said Matthew, and she'd be company for you."
3 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 191
"I'm not suffering for company," said Marilla shortly.
2 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 192
"And I'm not going to keep her."
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unit 193
unit 194
"I'm going to bed."
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 195
To bed went Matthew.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 196
And to bed, when she had put her dishes away, went Marilla, frowning most resolutely.
2 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 1 year, 1 month ago
unit 197
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gaelle044 • 0  commented  1 year, 1 month ago

Anne of Green Gables (1908)

Written for all ages, it has been considered a children's novel since the mid-twentieth century. It recounts the adventures of Anne Shirley, an 11-year-old orphan girl who is mistakenly sent to Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert, a middle-aged brother and sister who had intended to adopt a boy to help them on their farm in Prince Edward Island. The novel recounts how Anne makes her way with the Cuthberts, in school, and within the town. Since publication, Anne of Green Gables has sold more than 50 million copies and has been translated into 20 languages. It has been adapted as film, made-for-television movies, and animated and live-action television series. — Excerpted from Anne of Green Gables (1908) on Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.
https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Anne_of_Green_Gables_(1908)

by gaelle044 1 year, 1 month ago

CHAPTER III.

MARILLA CUTHBERT IS SURPRISED.

Marilla came briskly forward as Matthew opened the door. But when her eyes fell on the odd little figure in the stiff, ugly dress, with the long braids of red hair and the eager, luminous eyes, she stopped short in amazement.

"Matthew Cuthbert, who's that?" she ejaculated. "Where is the boy?"

"There wasn't any boy," said Matthew wretchedly. "There was only her."

He nodded at the child, remembering that he had never even asked her name.

"No boy! But there must have been a boy," insisted Marilla. "We sent word to Mrs. Spencer to bring a boy."

"Well, she didn't. She brought her. I asked the station-master. And I had to bring her home. She couldn't be left there, no matter where the mistake had come in."

"Well, this is a pretty piece of business!" ejaculated Marilla.

During this dialogue the child had remained silent, her eyes roving from one to the other, all the animation fading out of her face. Suddenly she seemed tograsp the full meaning of what had been said. Dropping her precious carpet-bag she sprang forward a step and clasped her hands.

"You don't want me!" she cried. "You don't want me because I'm not a boy! I might have expected it. Nobody ever did want me. I might have known it was all too beautiful to last. I might have known nobody really did want me. Oh, what shall I do? I'm going to burst into tears!"

Burst into tears she did. Sitting down on a chair by the table, flinging her arms out upon it, and burying her face in them, she proceeded to cry stormily. Marilla and Matthew looked at each other deprecatingly across the stove. Neither of them knew what to say or do. Finally Marilla stepped lamely into the breach.

"Well, well, there's no need to cry so about it."

"Yes, there is need!" The child raised her head quickly, revealing a tear-stained face and trembling lips. "You would cry, too, if you were an orphan and had come to a place you thought was going to be home and found that they didn't want you because you weren't a boy. Oh, this is the most tragical thing that ever happened to me!"

Something like a reluctant smile, rather rusty from long disuse, mellowed Marilla's grim expression.

"Well, don't cry any more. We're not going to turn you out-of-doors to-night. You'll have to stay here until we investigate this affair. What's your name?"

The child hesitated for a moment.

"Will you please call me Cordelia?" she said eagerly.

"Call you Cordelia! Is that your name?"

"No-o-o, it's not exactly my name, but I would love to be called Cordelia. It's such a perfectly elegant name."

"I don't know what on earth you mean. If Cordelia isn't your name, what is?"

"Anne Shirley," reluctantly faltered forth the owner of that name, "but oh, please do call me Cordelia. It can't matter much to you what you call me if I'm only going to be here a little while, can it? And Anne is such an unromantic name."

"Unromantic fiddlesticks!" said the unsympathetic Marilla. "Anne is a real good plain sensible name. You've no need to be ashamed of it."

"Oh, I'm not ashamed of it," explained Anne, "only I like Cordelia better. I've always imagined that my name was Cordelia—at least, I always have of late years. When I was young I used to imagine it was Geraldine, but I like Cordelia better now. But if you call me Anne please call me Anne spelled with an e"

"What difference does it make how it's spelled?" asked Marilla with another rusty smile as she picked up the teapot.

"Oh, it makes such a difference. It looks so much nicer. When you hear a name pronounced can't you always see it in your mind, just as if it was printed out? I can; and A-n-n looks dreadful, but A-n-n-e looks so much more distinguished. If you'll only call me Anne spelled with an e I shall try to reconcile myself to not being called Cordelia."

"Very well, then, Anne spelled with an e, can you tell us how this mistake came to be made? We sent word to Mrs. Spencer to bring us a boy. Were there no boys at the asylum?"

"Oh, yes, there was an abundance of them. But Mrs. Spencer said distinctly that you wanted a girl about eleven years old. And the matron said she thought I would do. You don't know how delighted I was. I couldn't sleep all last night for joy. Oh," she added reproachfully, turning to Matthew, "why didn't you tell me at the station that you didn't want me and leave me there? If I hadn't seen the White Way of Delight and the Lake of Shining Waters it wouldn't be so hard."

"What on earth does she mean?" demanded Marilla, staring at Matthew.

"She—she's just referring to some conversation we had on the road," said Matthew hastily. "I'm going out to put the mare in, Marilla. Have tea ready when I come back."

"Did Mrs. Spencer bring anybody over besides you?" continued Marilla when Matthew had gone out.

"She brought Lily Jones for herself. Lily is only five years old and she is very beautiful. She has nut-brown hair. If I was very beautiful and had nut-brown hair would you keep me?"

"No. We want a boy to help Matthew on the farm. A girl would be of no use 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 could not eat. In vain she nibbled at the bread and butter and pecked at the crab-apple preserve out of the little scalloped glass dish by her plate. She did not really make any headway at all.

"You're not eating anything," said Marilla sharply, eying her as if it were a serious shortcoming.

Anne sighed.

"I can't. I'm in the depths of despair. Can you eat when you are in the depths of despair?"

"I've never been in the depths of despair, so I can't say," 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 a lump comes right up in your throat and you can't swallow anything, not even if it was a chocolate caramel. I had one chocolate caramel once two years ago and it was simply delicious. I've often dreamed since then that I had a lot of chocolate caramels, but I always wake up just when I'm going to eat them. I do hope you won't be offended because I can't eat. Everything is extremely nice, but still I cannot eat."

"I guess she's tired," said Matthew, who hadn't spoken since his return from the barn. "Best put her to bed, Marilla."

Marilla had been wondering where Anne should be put to bed. She had prepared a couch in the kitchen chamber for the desired and expected boy. But, although it was neat and clean, it did not seem quite the thing to put a girl there somehow. But the spare room was out of the question for such a stray waif, so there remained only the east gable room. Marilla lighted a candle and told Anne to follow her, which Anne spiritlessly did, taking her hat and carpet-bag from the hall table as she passed. The hall was fearsomely clean; the little gable chamber in which she presently found herself seemed still cleaner.

Marilla set the candle on a three-legged, three-cornered table and turned down the bedclothes.

"I suppose you have a nightgown?" she questioned.

Anne nodded.

"Yes, I have two. The matron of the asylum made them for me. They're fearfully skimpy. There is never enough to go around in an asylum, so things are always skimpy—at least in a poor asylum like ours. I hate skimpy night-dresses. But one can dream just as well in them as in lovely trailing ones, with frills around the neck, that's one consolation."

"Well, undress as quick as you can and go to bed. I'll come back in a few minutes for the candle. I daren't trust you to put it out yourself. You'd likely set the place on fire."

When Marilla had gone Anne looked around her wistfully. The whitewashed walls were so painfully bare and staring that she thought they must ache over their own bareness. The floor was bare, too, except for a round braided mat in the middle such as Anne had never seen before. In one corner was the bed, a high, old-fashioned one, with four dark, low-turned posts. In the other corner was the aforesaid three-cornered table adorned with a fat, red velvet pincushion hard enough to turn the point of the most adventurous pin. Above it hung a little six by eight mirror. Midway between table and bed was the window, with an icy white muslin frill over it, and opposite it was the wash-stand. The whole apartment was of a rigidity not to be described in words, but which sent a shiver to the very marrow of Anne's bones. With a sob she hastily discarded her garments, put on the skimpy nightgown and sprang into bed where she burrowed face downward into the pillow and pulled the clothes over her head. When Marilla came up for the light various skimpy articles of raiment scattered most untidily over the floor and a certain tempestuous appearance of the bed were the only indications of any presence save her own.

She deliberately picked up Anne's clothes, placed them neatly on a prim yellow chair, and then, taking up the candle, 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 with a startling suddenness.

"How can you call it a good night when you know it must be the very worst night I've ever had?" she said reproachfully.

Then she dived down into invisibility again.

Marilla went slowly down to the kitchen and proceeded to wash the supper dishes. Matthew was smoking—a sure sign of perturbation of mind. He seldom smoked, for Marilla set her face against it as a filthy habit; but at certain times and seasons he felt driven to it and then Marilla winked at the practice, realizing that a mere man must have some vent for his emotions.

"Well, this is a pretty kettle of fish," she said wrathfully. "This is what comes of sending word instead of going ourselves. Robert Spencer's folks have twisted that message somehow. One of us will have to drive over and see Mrs. Spencer to-morrow, that's certain. This girl will have to be sent back to the asylum."

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

"You suppose so! Don't you know it?"

"Well now, she's a real nice little thing, Marilla. It's kind of a pity to send her back when she's so set on staying here."

"Matthew Cuthbert, you don't mean to say you think we ought to keep her!"

Marilla's astonishment could not have been greater if Matthew had expressed a predilection for standing on his head.

"Well now, no, I suppose not—not exactly," stammered Matthew, uncomfortably driven into a corner for his precise meaning. "I suppose—we could hardly be expected to keep her."

"I should say not. What good would she be to us?"

"We might be some good to her," said Matthew suddenly and unexpectedly.

"Matthew Cuthbert, I believe that child has bewitched you! I can see as plain as plain that you want to keep her."

"Well now, she's a real interesting little thing," persisted Matthew. "You should have heard her talk coming from the station."

"Oh, she can talk fast enough. I saw that at once. It's nothing in her favour, either. I don't like children who have so much to say. I don't want an orphan girl and if I did she isn't the style I'd pick out. There's something I don't understand about her. No, she's got to be despatched straightway back to where she came from."

"I could hire a French boy to help me," said Matthew, and she'd be company for you."

"I'm not suffering for company," said Marilla shortly. "And I'm not going to keep her."

"Well now, it's just as you say, of course, Marilla," said Matthew rising and putting his pipe away. "I'm going to bed."

To bed went Matthew. And to bed, when she had put her dishes away, went Marilla, frowning most resolutely. And up-stairs, in the east gable, a lonely, heart-hungry, friendless child cried herself to sleep.