and I talk a great deal about serious subjects now, you know. We
feel that we are so much older than we used to be that it isn't
becoming to talk of
childish matters. It's such a
solemn thing
to be almost fourteen, Marilla. Miss Stacy took all us girls who
are in our teens down to the brook last Wednesday, and talked to
us about it. She said we couldn't be too careful what habits we
formed and what ideals we acquired in our teens, because by the
time we were twenty our characters would be developed and the
foundation laid for our whole future life. And she said if the
foundation was shaky we could never build anything really worth
while on it. Diana and I talked the matter over coming home from
school. We felt
extremely" target="_blank" title="ad.极端地;非常地">
extremelysolemn, Marilla. And we
decided that
we would try to be very careful indeed and form respectable
habits and learn all we could and be as
sensible as possible, so
that by the time we were twenty our characters would be properly
developed. It's
perfectlyappalling to think of being twenty,
Marilla. It sounds so fearfully old and grown up. But why was
Miss Stacy here this afternoon?"
"That is what I want to tell you, Anne, if you'll ever give me a
chance to get a word in edgewise. She was talking about you."
"About me?" Anne looked rather scared. Then she flushed and exclaimed:
"Oh, I know what she was
saying. I meant to tell you, Marilla,
honestly I did, but I forgot. Miss Stacy caught me
reading Ben
Hur in school
yesterday afternoon when I should have been studying
my Canadian history. Jane Andrews lent it to me. I was
readingit at dinner hour, and I had just got to the
chariot race when
school went in. I was simply wild to know how it turned out--
although I felt sure Ben Hur must win, because it wouldn't be
poetical justice if he didn't--so I spread the history open on
my desk lid and then tucked Ben Hur between the desk and my knee.
I just looked as if I were studying Canadian history, you know,
while all the while I was reveling in Ben Hur. I was so
interested in it that I never noticed Miss Stacy coming down the
aisle until all at once I just looked up and there she was
looking down at me, so reproachful-like. I can't tell you how
ashamed I felt, Marilla, especially when I heard Josie Pye
giggling. Miss Stacy took Ben Hur away, but she never said a
word then. She kept me in at
recess and talked to me. She said
I had done very wrong in two respects. First, I was
wasting the
time I ought to have put on my studies; and
secondly, I was
deceiving my teacher in
trying to make it appear I was
reading a
history when it was a storybook instead. I had never realized
until that moment, Marilla, that what I was doing was deceitful.
I was shocked. I cried
bitterly, and asked Miss Stacy to forgive
me and I'd never do such a thing again; and I offered to do
penance by never so much as looking at Ben Hur for a whole week,
not even to see how the
chariot race turned out. But Miss Stacy
said she wouldn't require that, and she forgave me
freely. So I
think it wasn't very kind of her to come up here to you about it
after all."
"Miss Stacy never mentioned such a thing to me, Anne, and its
only your
guiltyconscience that's the matter with you. You have
no business to be
taking storybooks to school. You read too many
novels anyhow. When I was a girl I wasn't so much as allowed to
look at a novel."
"Oh, how can you call Ben Hur a novel when it's really such a
religious book?" protested Anne. "Of course it's a little too
exciting to be proper
reading for Sunday, and I only read it on
weekdays. And I never read ANY book now unless either Miss Stacy
or Mrs. Allan thinks it is a proper book for a girl thirteen and
three-quarters to read. Miss Stacy made me promise that. She
found me
reading a book one day called, The Lurid Mystery of the
Haunted Hall. It was one Ruby Gillis had lent me, and, oh,
Marilla, it was so
fascinating and creepy. It just curdled the
blood in my veins. But Miss Stacy said it was a very silly,
unwholesome book, and she asked me not to read any more of it or
any like it. I didn't mind
promising not to read any more like
it, but it was AGONIZING to give back that book without
knowinghow it turned out. But my love for Miss Stacy stood the test and
I did. It's really wonderful, Marilla, what you can do when
you're truly
anxious to please a certain person."
"Well, I guess I'll light the lamp and get to work," said
Marilla. "I see
plainly that you don't want to hear what Miss
Stacy had to say. You're more interested in the sound of your
own tongue than in anything else."
"Oh, indeed, Marilla, I do want to hear it," cried Anne contritely.
"I won't say another word--not one. I know I talk too much, but I
am really
trying to
overcome it, and although I say far too much,
yet if you only knew how many things I want to say and don't,
you'd give me some credit for it. Please tell me, Marilla."
"Well, Miss Stacy wants to
organize a class among her advanced
students who mean to study for the entrance
examination into
Queen's. She intends to give them extra lessons for an hour
after school. And she came to ask Matthew and me if we would
like to have you join it. What do you think about it yourself,
Anne? Would you like to go to Queen's and pass for a teacher?"
"Oh, Marilla!" Anne straightened to her knees and clasped her
hands. "It's been the dream of my life--that is, for the last
six months, ever since Ruby and Jane began to talk of studying
for the Entrance. But I didn't say anything about it, because I
supposed it would be
perfectlyuseless. I'd love to be a teacher.
But won't it be
dreadfullyexpensive? Mr. Andrews says it cost
him one hundred and fifty dollars to put Prissy through, and
Prissy wasn't a dunce in geometry."
"I guess you needn't worry about that part of it. When Matthew
and I took you to bring up we
resolved we would do the best we
could for you and give you a good education. I believe in a girl
being fitted to earn her own living whether she ever has to or not.
You'll always have a home at Green Gables as long as Matthew and
I are here, but nobody knows what is going to happen in this
uncertain world, and it's just as well to be prepared.
So you can join the Queen's class if you like, Anne."
"Oh, Marilla, thank you." Anne flung her arms about Marilla's
waist and looked up
earnestly into her face. "I'm
extremely" target="_blank" title="ad.极端地;非常地">
extremelygrateful to you and Matthew. And I'll study as hard as I can and
do my very best to be a credit to you. I warn you not to expect
much in geometry, but I think I can hold my own in anything else
if I work hard."
"I dare say you'll get along well enough. Miss Stacy says you
are bright and diligent." Not for worlds would Marilla have told
Anne just what Miss Stacy had said about her; that would have
been to pamper
vanity. "You needn't rush to any
extreme of
killing yourself over your books. There is no hurry. You won't
be ready to try the Entrance for a year and a half yet. But it's
well to begin in time and be
thoroughly grounded, Miss Stacy says."
"I shall take more interest than ever in my studies now," said
Anne blissfully, "because I have a purpose in life. Mr. Allan
says everybody should have a purpose in life and
pursue it
faithfully. Only he says we must first make sure that it is a
worthy purpose. I would call it a
worthy purpose to want to be a
teacher like Miss Stacy, wouldn't you, Marilla? I think it's a
very noble profession."
The Queen's class was
organized in due time. Gilbert Blythe,
Anne Shirley, Ruby Gillis, Jane Andrews, Josie Pye, Charlie
Sloane, and Moody Spurgeon MacPherson joined it. Diana Barry did
not, as her parents did not intend to send her to Queen's. This