Anne
passionately. "She looks exactly like a--like a gimlet."
Marilla smothered a smile under the
conviction that Anne
must be reproved for such a speech.
"A little girl like you should be
ashamed of talking so
about a lady and a stranger," she said
severely. "Go back
and sit down quietly and hold your tongue and
behave as a
good girl should."
"I'll try to do and be anything you want me, if you'll
only keep me," said Anne, returning
meekly to her ottoman.
When they arrived back at Green Gables that evening
Matthew met them in the lane. Marilla from afar had noted
him prowling along it and guessed his
motive. She was
prepared for the
relief she read in his face when he saw
that she had at least brought back Anne back with her. But
she said nothing, to him,
relative to the affair, until they
were both out in the yard behind the barn milking the
cows. Then she
briefly told him Anne's history and the
result of the
interview with Mrs. Spencer.
"I wouldn't give a dog I liked to that Blewett woman,"
said Matthew with
unusual vim."
"I don't fancy her style myself," admitted Marilla, "but
it's that or keeping her ourselves, Matthew. And since
you seem to want her, I suppose I'm
willing--or have to
be. I've been thinking over the idea until I've got kind of
used to it. It seems a sort of duty. I've never brought up
a child, especially a girl, and I dare say I'll make a
terrible mess of it. But I'll do my best. So far as I'm
concerned, Matthew, she may stay."
Matthew's shy face was a glow of delight.
"Well now, I reckoned you'd come to see it in that light,
Marilla," he said. "She's such an interesting little thing."
"It'd be more to the point if you could say she was a
useful little thing," retorted Marilla, "but I'll make it
my business to see she's trained to be that. And mind,
Matthew, you're not to go interfering with my methods.
Perhaps an old maid doesn't know much about bringing up
a child, but I guess she knows more than an old bachelor.
So you just leave me to manage her. When I fail it'll be
time enough to put your oar in."
"There, there, Marilla, you can have your own way," said
Matthew reassuringly. "Only be as good and kind to her
as you can without spoiling her. I kind of think she's
one of the sort you can do anything with if you only get
her to love you."
Marilla sniffed, to express her
contempt for Matthew's
opinions
concerning anything
feminine, and walked off to
the dairy with the pails.
"I won't tell her tonight that she can stay," she reflected,
as she strained the milk into the creamers. "She'd be so
excited that she wouldn't sleep a wink. Marilla Cuthbert,
you're fairly in for it. Did you ever suppose you'd see
the day when you'd be adopting an
orphan girl? It's
surprising enough; but not so
surprising as that Matthew
should be at the bottom of it, him that always seemed
to have such a
mortal dread of little girls. Anyhow,
we've
decided on the experiment and
goodness only knows
what will come of it."
CHAPTER VII
Anne Says Her Prayers
When Marilla took Anne up to bed that night she said stiffly:
"Now, Anne, I noticed last night that you threw your
clothes all about the floor when you took them off. That
is a very untidy habit, and I can't allow it at all. As
soon as you take off any article of clothing fold it neatly
and place it on the chair. I haven't any use at all for
little girls who aren't neat."
"I was so harrowed up in my mind last night that I didn't
think about my clothes at all," said Anne. "I'll fold
them
nicely tonight. They always made us do that at the
asylum. Half the time, though, I'd forget, I'd be in such a
hurry to get into bed nice and quiet and imagine things."
"You'll have to remember a little better if you stay here,"
admonished Marilla. "There, that looks something like.
Say your prayers now and get into bed."
"I never say any prayers," announced Anne.
Marilla looked horrified astonishment.
"Why, Anne, what do you mean? Were you never taught to
say your prayers? God always wants little girls to say
their prayers. Don't you know who God is, Anne?"
"`God is a spirit,
infinite,
eternal and unchangeable, in
His being,
wisdom, power,
holiness, justice,
goodness,
and truth,'" responded Anne
promptly and glibly.
Marilla looked rather relieved.
"So you do know something then, thank
goodness! You're
not quite a
heathen. Where did you learn that?"
"Oh, at the
asylum Sunday-school. They made us learn
the whole catechism. I liked it pretty well. There's
something splendid about some of the words. `Infinite,
eternal and unchangeable.' Isn't that grand? It has such a
roll to it--just like a big organ playing. You couldn't
quite call it
poetry, I suppose, but it sounds a lot like
it, doesn't it?"
"We're not talking about
poetry, Anne--we are talking
about
saying your prayers. Don't you know it's a terrible
wicked thing not to say your prayers every night? I'm
afraid you are a very bad little girl."
"You'd find it easier to be bad than good if you had red
hair," said Anne reproachfully. "People who haven't red
hair don't know what trouble is. Mrs. Thomas told me that
God made my hair red ON PURPOSE, and I've never cared about
Him since. And anyhow I'd always be too tired at night
to
bothersaying prayers. People who have to look after
twins can't be expected to say their prayers. Now, do
you
honestly think they can?"
Marilla
decided that Anne's religious training must be
begun at once. Plainly there was no time to be lost.
"You must say your prayers while you are under my roof, Anne."
"Why, of course, if you want me to," assented Anne cheerfully.
"I'd do anything to
oblige you. But you'll have to tell me what
to say for this once. After I get into bed I'll imagine out a
real nice prayer to say always. I believe that it will be quite
interesting, now that I come to think of it."
"You must kneel down," said Marilla in embarrassment.
Anne knelt at Marilla's knee and looked up gravely.
"Why must people kneel down to pray?" If I really wanted
to pray I'll tell you what I'd do. I'd go out into a great
big field all alone or into the deep, deep, woods, and I'd
look up into the sky--up--up--up--into that lovely blue sky
that looks as if there was no end to its blueness. And then
I'd just FEEL a prayer. Well, I'm ready. What am I to say?"
Marilla felt more embarrassed than ever. She had intended
to teach Anne the
childishclassic, "Now I lay me down to
sleep." But she had, as I have told you, the glimmerings
of a sense of humor--which is simply another name for a
sense of
fitness of things; and it suddenly occurred to her
that that simple little prayer,
sacred to white-robed
childhood lisping at motherly knees, was entirely unsuited
to this
freckled witch of a girl who knew and cared nothing
bout God's love, since she had never had it translated to
her through the
medium of human love.
"You're old enough to pray for yourself, Anne," she said
finally. "Just thank God for your blessings and ask Him
humbly for the things you want."
"Well, I'll do my best," promised Anne, burying her face
in Marilla's lap. "Gracious
heavenly Father--that's the
way the ministers say it in church, so I suppose it's all
right in private prayer, isn't it?" she interjected, lifting
her head for a moment.
"Gracious
heavenly Father, I thank Thee for the White
Way of Delight and the Lake of Shining Waters and Bonny
and the Snow Queen. I'm really
extremelygrateful for
them. And that's all the blessings I can think of just
now to thank Thee for. As for the things I want,
they're so numerous that it would take a great deal of
time to name them all so I will only mention the two
most important. Please let me stay at Green Gables;
and please let me be
good-looking when I grow up.
I remain,
"Yours respectfully,
Anne Shirley.
"There, did I do all right?" she asked
eagerly, getting up.
"I could have made it much more
flowery if I'd had a little
more time to think it over."
Poor Marilla was only preserved from complete
collapse by
remembering that it was not irreverence, but simply
spiritual
ignorance on the part of Anne that was responsible
for this
extraordinarypetition. She tucked the child up in
bed, mentally vowing that she should be taught a prayer the
very next day, and was leaving the room with the light when
Anne called her back.
"I've just thought of it now. I should have said, `Amen' in
place of `yours respectfully,' shouldn't I?--the way the
ministers do. I'd forgotten it, but I felt a prayer should
be finished off in some way, so I put in the other. Do
you suppose it will make any difference?"
"I--I don't suppose it will," said Marilla. "Go to sleep
now like a good child. Good night."
"I can only say good night tonight with a clear conscience,"
said Anne, cuddling luxuriously down among her pillows.
Marilla retreated to the kitchen, set the candle firmly
on the table, and glared at Matthew.
"Matthew Cuthbert, it's about time somebody adopted that
child and taught her something. She's next door to a
perfect
heathen. Will you believe that she never said a
prayer in her life till tonight? I'll send her to the manse
tomorrow and borrow the Peep of the Day
series, that's what
I'll do. And she shall go to Sunday-school just as soon as
I can get some
suitable clothes made for her. I foresee
that I shall have my hands full. Well, well, we can't get
through this world without our share of trouble. I've had
a pretty easy life of it so far, but my time has come at
last and I suppose I'll just have to make the best of it."
CHAPTER VIII
Anne's Bringing-up Is Begun
For reasons best known to herself, Marilla did not tell
Anne that she was to stay at Green Gables until the next
afternoon. During the
forenoon she kept the child busy
with various tasks and watched over her with a keen eye
while she did them. By noon she had concluded that Anne
was smart and
obedient,
willing to work and quick to learn;
her most serious
shortcoming seemed to be a
tendency to fall
into daydreams in the middle of a task and forget all about
it until such time as she was
sharply recalled to earth by a
reprimand or a catastrophe.
When Anne had finished washing the dinner dishes she
suddenly confronted Marilla with the air and expression of
one
desperately determined to learn the worst. Her thin
little body trembled from head to foot; her face flushed and
her eyes dilated until they were almost black; she clasped
her hands
tightly and said in an imploring voice:
"Oh, please, Miss Cuthbert, won't you tell me if you are going to