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.

CHAPTER XXV
Matthew Insists on Puffed Sleeves

Matthew was having a bad ten minutes of it. He had come into the
kitchen, in the twilight of a cold, gray December evening, and

had sat down in the woodbox corner to take off his heavy boots,
unconscious of the fact that Anne and a bevy of her schoolmates

were having a practice of "The Fairy Queen" in the sitting room.
Presently they came trooping through the hall and out into the

kitchen, laughing and chattering gaily. They did not see
Matthew, who shrank bashfully back into the shadows beyond the

woodbox with a boot in one hand and a bootjack in the other, and
he watched them shyly for the aforesaid ten minutes as they put on

caps and jackets and talked about the dialogue and the concert.
Anne stood among them, bright eyed and animated as they;

but Matthew suddenly became conscious that there was something
about her different from her mates. And what worried Matthew

was that the difference impressed him as being something that
should not exist. Anne had a brighter face, and bigger,

starrier eyes, and more delicate features than the other; even
shy, unobservant Matthew had learned to take note of these

things; but the difference that disturbed him did not consist in
any of these respects. Then in what did it consist?

Matthew was haunted by this question long after the girls had gone,
arm in arm, down the long, hard-frozen lane and Anne had betaken

herself to her books. He could not refer it to Marilla, who,
he felt, would be quite sure to sniff scornfully and remark that

the only difference she saw between Anne and the other girls was
that they sometimes kept their tongues quiet while Anne never did.

This, Matthew felt, would be no great help.
He had recourse to his pipe that evening to help him study it

out, much to Marilla's disgust. After two hours of smoking and
hard reflection Matthew arrived at a solution of his problem.

Anne was not dressed like the other girls!
The more Matthew thought about the matter the more he was

convinced that Anne never had been dressed like the other
girls--never since she had come to Green Gables. Marilla kept

her clothed in plain, dark dresses, all made after the same
unvarying pattern. If Matthew knew there was such a thing as

fashion in dress it was as much as he did; but he was quite sure
that Anne's sleeves did not look at all like the sleeves the

other girls wore. He recalled the cluster of little girls he had
seen around her that evening--all gay in waists of red and blue

and pink and white--and he wondered why Marilla always kept her
so plainly and soberly gowned.

Of course, it must be all right. Marilla knew best and Marilla was
bringing her up. Probably some wise, inscrutable motive was to be

served thereby. But surely it would do no harm to let the child
have one pretty dress--something like Diana Barry always wore.

Matthew decided that he would give her one; that surely could
not be objected to as an unwarranted putting in of his oar.

Christmas was only a fortnight off. A nice new dress would be
the very thing for a present. Matthew, with a sigh of

satisfaction, put away his pipe and went to bed, while Marilla
opened all the doors and aired the house.

The very next evening Matthew betook himself to Carmody to buy
the dress, determined to get the worst over and have done with it.

It would be, he felt assured, no triflingordeal. There were some
things Matthew could buy and prove himself no mean bargainer;

but he knew he would be at the mercy of shopkeepers when it came
to buying a girl's dress.

After much cogitation Matthew resolved to go to Samuel Lawson's
store instead of William Blair's. To be sure, the Cuthberts

always had gone to William Blair's; it was almost as much a
matter of conscience with them as to attend the Presbyterian

church and vote Conservative. But William Blair's two daughters
frequently waited on customers there and Matthew held them in

absolute dread. He could contrive to deal with them when he knew
exactly what he wanted and could point it out; but in such a

matter as this, requiring explanation and consultation, Matthew
felt that he must be sure of a man behind the counter. So he

would go to Lawson's, where Samuel or his son would wait on him.
Alas! Matthew did not know that Samuel, in the recent expansion

of his business, had set up a lady clerk also; she was a niece of
his wife's and a very dashing young person indeed, with a huge,

drooping pompadour, big, rolling brown eyes, and a most extensive
and bewildering smile. She was dressed with exceeding smartness

and wore several bangle bracelets that glittered and rattled and
tinkled with every movement of her hands. Matthew was covered

with confusion at finding her there at all; and those bangles
completely wrecked his wits at one fell swoop.

"What can I do for you this evening, Mr. Cuthbert?" Miss Lucilla
Harris inquired, briskly and ingratiatingly, tapping the counter

with both hands.
"Have you any--any--any--well now, say any garden rakes?"

stammered Matthew.
Miss Harris looked somewhat surprised, as well she might, to hear

a man inquiring for garden rakes in the middle of December.
"I believe we have one or two left over," she said, "but they're

upstairs in the lumber room. I'll go and see." During her
absence Matthew collected his scattered senses for another effort.

When Miss Harris returned with the rake and cheerfully inquired:
"Anything else tonight, Mr. Cuthbert?" Matthew took his courage

in both hands and replied: "Well now, since you suggest it, I
might as well--take--that is--look at--buy some--some hayseed."

Miss Harris had heard Matthew Cuthbert called odd.
She now concluded that he was entirely crazy.

"We only keep hayseed in the spring," she explained loftily.
"We've none on hand just now."

"Oh, certainly--certainly--just as you say," stammered unhappy
Matthew, seizing the rake and making for the door. At the

threshold he recollected that he had not paid for it and he
turned miserably back. While Miss Harris was counting out his

change he rallied his powers for a final desperate attempt.
"Well now--if it isn't too much trouble--I might as well--that

is--I'd like to look at--at--some sugar."
"White or brown?" queried Miss Harris patiently.

"Oh--well now--brown," said Matthew feebly.
"There's a barrel of it over there," said Miss Harris, shaking

her bangles at it. "It's the only kind we have."
"I'll--I'll take twenty pounds of it," said Matthew, with beads

of perspiration standing on his forehead.
Matthew had driven halfway home before he was his own man again.

It had been a gruesome experience, but it served him right, he
thought, for committing the heresy of going to a strange store.

When he reached home he hid the rake in the tool house, but the
sugar he carried in to Marilla.

"Brown sugar!" exclaimed Marilla. "Whatever possessed you to get