It was October
again when Anne was ready to
go back to school--a
glorious October, all red and
gold, with mellow mornings when
the valleys were filled with
delicate mists as if the spirit
of autumn had poured them in
for the sun to drain--amethyst,
pearl, silver, rose, and smoke-blue.
The dews were so heavy that the
fields glistened like cloth of
silver and there were such heaps
of rustling leaves in the hollows
of many-stemmed woods to run
crisply through. The Birch Path
was a canopy of yellow and the
ferns were sear and brown all
along it. There was a tang in
the very air that inspired the
hearts of small maidens tripping,
unlike snails, swiftly and willingly
to school; and it WAS jolly to
be back again at the little brown
desk beside Diana, with Ruby
Gillis nodding across the aisle
and Carrie Sloane sending up
notes and Julia Bell passing
a "chew" of gum down from the
back seat. Anne drew a long breath
of happiness as she sharpened
her pencil and arranged her picture
cards in her desk. Life was certainly
very interesting.
In the new teacher she found
another true and helpful friend.
Miss Stacy was a bright, sympathetic
young woman with the happy gift
of winning and holding the affections
of her pupils and bringing out
the best that was in them mentally
and morally. Anne expanded like
a flower under this wholesome
influence and carried home to
the admiring Matthew and the
critical Marilla glowing accounts
of schoolwork and aims.
"I love Miss
Stacy with my whole heart,
Marilla. She is
so ladylike and she has such
a sweet voice. When she pronounces
my name I feel INSTINCTIVELY
that she's spelling it with an
E. We had recitations this afternoon.
I just wish you could have been
there to hear me recite `Mary,
Queen of Scots.' I just put my
whole soul into it. Ruby Gillis
told me coming home that the
way I said the line, `Now for
my father's arm,' she said, `my
woman's heart farewell,' just
made her blood run cold."
"Well now, you might recite
it for me some of these days,
out in the barn," suggested Matthew.
"Of course I will," said Anne
meditatively, "but I won't be
able to do it so well, I know.
It won't be so exciting as it
is when you have a whole schoolful
before you hanging breathlessly
on your words. I know I won't
be able to make your blood run
cold."
"Mrs. Lynde says it made HER
blood run cold to see the boys
climbing to the very tops of
those big trees on Bell's hill
after crows' nests last Friday," said
Marilla. "I wonder at Miss Stacy
for encouraging it."
"But we wanted a crow's nest
for nature study," explained
Anne. "That was on our field
afternoon. Field afternoons are
splendid, Marilla. And Miss Stacy
explains everything so beautifully.
We have to write compositions
on our field afternoons and I
write the best ones."
"It's very
vain of you to say so then.
You'd better let your
teacher say it."
"But she DID
say it, Marilla. And indeed
I'm not vain about
it. How can I be, when I'm such
a dunce at geometry? Although
I'm really beginning to see through
it a little, too. Miss Stacy
makes it so clear. Still, I'll
never be good at it and I assure
you it is a humbling reflection.
But I love writing compositions.
Mostly Miss Stacy lets us choose
our own subjects; but next week
we are to write a composition
on some remarkable person. It's
hard to choose among so many
remarkable people who have lived.
Mustn't it be splendid to be
remarkable and have compositions
written about you after you're
dead? Oh, I would dearly love
to be remarkable. I think when
I grow up I'll be a trained nurse
and go with the Red Crosses to
the field of battle as a messenger
of mercy. That is, if I don't
go out as a foreign missionary.
That would be very romantic,
but one would have to be very
good to be a missionary, and
that would be a stumbling block.
We have physical culture exercises
every day, too. They make you
graceful and promote digestion."
"Promote fiddlesticks!" said
Marilla, who honestly thought
it was all nonsense.
But all the field afternoons
and recitation Fridays and physical
culture contortions paled before
a project which Miss Stacy brought
forward in November. This was
that the scholars of Avonlea
school should get up a concert
and hold it in the hall on Christmas
Night, for the laudable purpose
of helping to pay for a schoolhouse
flag. The pupils one and all
taking graciously to this plan,
the preparations for a program
were begun at once. And of all
the excited performers-elect
none was so excited as Anne Shirley,
who threw herself into the undertaking
heart and soul, hampered as she
was by Marilla's disapproval.
Marilla thought it all rank foolishness.
"It's just filling your heads
up with nonsense and taking time
that ought to be put on your
lessons," she grumbled. "I don't
approve of children's getting
up concerts and racing about
to practices. It makes them vain
and forward and fond of gadding."
"But think of the worthy object," pleaded
Anne. "A flag will cultivate
a spirit of patriotism, Marilla."
"Fudge! There's
precious little patriotism
in the thoughts of
any of you. All you want is a
good time."
"Well, when
you can combine patriotism
and fun, isn't it
all right? Of course it's real
nice to be getting up a concert.
We're going to have six choruses
and Diana is to sing a solo.
I'm in two dialogues--`The Society
for the Suppression of Gossip'
and `The Fairy Queen.' The boys
are going to have a dialogue
too. And I'm to have two recitations,
Marilla. I just tremble when
I think of it, but it's a nice
thrilly kind of tremble. And
we're to have a tableau at the
last--`Faith, Hope and Charity.'
Diana and Ruby and I are to be
in it, all draped in white with
flowing hair. I'm to be Hope,
with my hands clasped--so--and
my eyes uplifted. I'm going to
practice my recitations in the
garret. Don't be alarmed if you
hear me groaning. I have to groan
heartrendingly in one of them,
and it's really hard to get up
a good artistic groan, Marilla.
Josie Pye is sulky because she
didn't get the part she wanted
in the dialogue. She wanted to
be the fairy queen. That would
have been ridiculous, for who
ever heard of a fairy queen as
fat as Josie? Fairy queens must
be slender. Jane Andrews is to
be the queen and I am to be one
of her maids of honor. Josie
says she thinks a red-haired
fairy is just as ridiculous as
a fat one, but I do not let myself
mind what Josie says. I'm to
have a wreath of white roses
on my hair and Ruby Gillis is
going to lend me her slippers
because I haven't any of my own.
It's necessary for fairies to
have slippers, you know. You
couldn't imagine a fairy wearing
boots, could you? Especially
with copper toes? We are going
to decorate the hall with creeping
spruce and fir mottoes with pink
tissue-paper roses in them. And
we are all to march in two by
two after the audience is seated,
while Emma White plays a march
on the organ. Oh, Marilla, I
know you are not so enthusiastic
about it as I am, but don't you
hope your little Anne will distinguish
herself?"
"All I hope
is that you'll behave yourself.
I'll be heartily
glad when all this fuss is over
and you'll be able to settle
down. You are simply good for
nothing just now with your head
stuffed full of dialogues and
groans and tableaus. As for your
tongue, it's a marvel it's not
clean worn out."
Anne sighed and betook herself
to the back yard, over which
a young new moon was shining
through the leafless poplar boughs
from an apple-green western sky,
and where Matthew was splitting
wood. Anne perched herself on
a block and talked the concert
over with him, sure of an appreciative
and sympathetic listener in this
instance at least.
"Well now, I reckon it's going
to be a pretty good concert.
And I expect you'll do your part
fine," he said, smiling down
into her eager, vivacious little
face. Anne smiled back at him.
Those two were the best of friends
and Matthew thanked his stars
many a time and oft that he had
nothing to do with bringing her
up. That was Marilla's exclusive
duty; if it had been his he would
have been worried over frequent
conflicts between inclination
and said duty. As it was, he
was free to, "spoil Anne"--Marilla's
phrasing--as much as he liked.
But it was not such a bad arrangement
after all; a little "appreciation" sometimes
does quite as much good as all
the conscientious "bringing up" in
the world.
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