Diana appeared soon after breakfast, with a basket of flowers over one arm and HER muslin dress over the other . . . for it would not do to don it until all the dinner preparations were completed. Meanwhile she wore her afternoon pink print and a lawn apron2 fearfully and wonderfully ruffled3 and frilled; and very neat and pretty and rosy4 she was.
“You look simply sweet,” said Anne admiringly.
Diana sighed.
“But I’ve had to let out every one of my dresses AGAIN. I weigh four pounds more than I did in July. Anne, WHERE will this end? Mrs. Morgan’s heroines are all tall and slender.”
“Well, let’s forget our troubles and think of our mercies,” said Anne gaily5. “Mrs. Allan says that whenever we think of anything that is a trial to us we should also think of something nice that we can set over against it. If you are slightly too plump you’ve got the dearest dimples; and if I have a freckled6 nose the SHAPE of it is all right. Do you think the lemon juice did any good?”
“Yes, I really think it did,” said Diana critically; and, much elated, Anne led the way to the garden, which was full of airy shadows and wavering golden lights.
“We’ll decorate the parlor7 first. We have plenty of time, for Priscilla said they’d be here about twelve or half past at the latest, so we’ll have dinner at one.”
There may have been two happier and more excited girls somewhere in Canada or the United States at that moment, but I doubt it. Every snip8 of the scissors, as rose and peony and bluebell9 fell, seemed to chirp10, “Mrs. Morgan is coming today.” Anne wondered how Mr. Harrison COULD go on placidly11 mowing12 hay in the field across the lane, just as if nothing were going to happen.
The parlor at Green Gables was a rather severe and gloomy apartment, with rigid13 horsehair furniture, stiff lace curtains, and white antimacassars that were always laid at a perfectly14 correct angle, except at such times as they clung to unfortunate people’s buttons. Even Anne had never been able to infuse much grace into it, for Marilla would not permit any alterations15. But it is wonderful what flowers can accomplish if you give them a fair chance; when Anne and Diana finished with the room you would not have recognized it.
A great blue bowlful of snowballs overflowed16 on the polished table. The shining black mantelpiece was heaped with roses and ferns. Every shelf of the what-not held a sheaf of bluebells17; the dark corners on either side of the grate were lighted up with jars full of glowing crimson18 peonies, and the grate itself was aflame with yellow poppies. All this splendor19 and color, mingled20 with the sunshine falling through the honeysuckle vines at the windows in a leafy riot of dancing shadows over walls and floor, made of the usually dismal21 little room the veritable “bower” of Anne’s imagination, and even extorted22 a tribute of admiration23 from Marilla, who came in to criticize and remained to praise.
“Now, we must set the table,” said Anne, in the tone of a priestess about to perform some sacred rite24 in honor of a divinity. “We’ll have a big vaseful of wild roses in the center and one single rose in front of everybody’s plate—and a special bouquet25 of rosebuds27 only by Mrs. Morgan’s—an allusion28 to ‘The Rosebud26 Garden’ you know.”
The table was set in the sitting room, with Marilla’s finest linen29 and the best china, glass, and silver. You may be perfectly certain that every article placed on it was polished or scoured30 to the highest possible perfection of gloss31 and glitter.
Then the girls tripped out to the kitchen, which was filled with appetizing odors emanating32 from the oven, where the chickens were already sizzling splendidly. Anne prepared the potatoes and Diana got the peas and beans ready. Then, while Diana shut herself into the pantry to compound the lettuce33 salad, Anne, whose cheeks were already beginning to glow crimson, as much with excitement as from the heat of the fire, prepared the bread sauce for the chickens, minced34 her onions for the soup, and finally whipped the cream for her lemon pies.
And what about Davy all this time? Was he redeeming35 his promise to be good? He was, indeed. To be sure, he insisted on remaining in the kitchen, for his curiosity wanted to see all that went on. But as he sat quietly in a corner, busily engaged in untying36 the knots in a piece of herring net he had brought home from his last trip to the shore, nobody objected to this.
At half past eleven the lettuce salad was made, the golden circles of the pies were heaped with whipped cream, and everything was sizzling and bubbling that ought to sizzle and bubble.
“We’d better go and dress now,” said Anne, “for they may be here by twelve. We must have dinner at sharp one, for the soup must be served as soon as it’s done.”
Serious indeed were the toilet rites37 presently performed in the east gable. Anne peered anxiously at her nose and rejoiced to see that its freckles38 were not at all prominent, thanks either to the lemon juice or to the unusual flush on her cheeks. When they were ready they looked quite as sweet and trim and girlish as ever did any of “Mrs. Morgan’s heroines.”
“I do hope I’ll be able to say something once in a while, and not sit like a mute,” said Diana anxiously. “All Mrs. Morgan’s heroines converse39 so beautifully. But I’m afraid I’ll be tongue-tied and stupid. And I’ll be sure to say ‘I seen.’ I haven’t often said it since Miss Stacy taught here; but in moments of excitement it’s sure to pop out. Anne, if I were to say ‘I seen’ before Mrs. Morgan I’d die of mortification40. And it would be almost as bad to have nothing to say.”
“I’m nervous about a good many things,” said Anne, “but I don’t think there is much fear that I won’t be able to talk.”
And, to do her justice, there wasn’t.
Anne shrouded41 her muslin glories in a big apron and went down to concoct42 her soup. Marilla had dressed herself and the twins, and looked more excited than she had ever been known to look before. At half past twelve the Allans and Miss Stacy came. Everything was going well but Anne was beginning to feel nervous. It was surely time for Priscilla and Mrs. Morgan to arrive. She made frequent trips to the gate and looked as anxiously down the lane as ever her namesake in the Bluebeard story peered from the tower casement43.
“Suppose they don’t come at all?” she said piteously.
“Don’t suppose it. It would be too mean,” said Diana, who, however, was beginning to have uncomfortable misgivings44 on the subject.
“Anne,” said Marilla, coming out from the parlor, “Miss Stacy wants to see Miss Barry’s willowware platter.”
Anne hastened to the sitting room closet to get the platter. She had, in accordance with her promise to Mrs. Lynde, written to Miss Barry of Charlottetown, asking for the loan of it. Miss Barry was an old friend of Anne’s, and she promptly45 sent the platter out, with a letter exhorting46 Anne to be very careful of it, for she had paid twenty dollars for it. The platter had served its purpose at the Aid bazaar47 and had then been returned to the Green Gables closet, for Anne would not trust anybody but herself to take it back to town.
She carried the platter carefully to the front door where her guests were enjoying the cool breeze that blew up from the brook48. It was examined and admired; then, just as Anne had taken it back into her own hands, a terrific crash and clatter49 sounded from the kitchen pantry. Marilla, Diana, and Anne fled out, the latter pausing only long enough to set the precious platter hastily down on the second step of the stairs.
When they reached the pantry a truly harrowing spectacle met their eyes . . . a guilty looking small boy scrambling50 down from the table, with his clean print blouse liberally plastered with yellow filling, and on the table the shattered remnants of what had been two brave, becreamed lemon pies.
Davy had finished ravelling out his herring net and had wound the twine51 into a ball. Then he had gone into the pantry to put it up on the shelf above the table, where he already kept a score or so of similar balls, which, so far as could be discovered, served no useful purpose save to yield the joy of possession. Davy had to climb on the table and reach over to the shelf at a dangerous angle . . . something he had been forbidden by Marilla to do, as he had come to grief once before in the experiment. The result in this instance was disastrous52. Davy slipped and came sprawling53 squarely down on the lemon pies. His clean blouse was ruined for that time and the pies for all time. It is, however, an ill wind that blows nobody good, and the pig was eventually the gainer by Davy’s mischance.
“Davy Keith,” said Marilla, shaking him by the shoulder, “didn’t I forbid you to climb up on that table again? Didn’t I?”
“I forgot,” whimpered Davy. “You’ve told me not to do such an awful lot of things that I can’t remember them all.”
“Well, you march upstairs and stay there till after dinner. Perhaps you’ll get them sorted out in your memory by that time. No, Anne, never you mind interceding54 for him. I’m not punishing him because he spoiled your pies . . . that was an accident. I’m punishing him for his disobedience. Go, Davy, I say.”
“You can come down after dinner is over and have yours in the kitchen.”
“Oh, all right,” said Davy, somewhat comforted. “I know Anne’ll save some nice bones for me, won’t you, Anne? ‘Cause you know I didn’t mean to fall on the pies. Say, Anne, since they ARE spoiled can’t I take some of the pieces upstairs with me?”
“No, no lemon pie for you, Master Davy,” said Marilla, pushing him toward the hall.
“Get out a crock of strawberry preserves,” said Marilla consolingly. “There’s plenty of whipped cream left in the bowl for it.”
One o’clock came . . . but no Priscilla or Mrs. Morgan. Anne was in an agony. Everything was done to a turn and the soup was just what soup should be, but couldn’t be depended on to remain so for any length of time.
“I don’t believe they’re coming after all,” said Marilla crossly.
Anne and Diana sought comfort in each other’s eyes.
At half past one Marilla again emerged from the parlor.
“Girls, we MUST have dinner. Everybody is hungry and it’s no use waiting any longer. Priscilla and Mrs. Morgan are not coming, that’s plain, and nothing is being improved by waiting.”
“I don’t believe I’ll be able to eat a mouthful,” said Diana dolefully.
“Nor I. But I hope everything will be nice for Miss Stacy’s and Mr. and Mrs. Allan’s sakes,” said Anne listlessly.
“Anne, did YOU put sugar in these peas?”
“Yes,” said Anne, mashing59 the potatoes with the air of one expected to do her duty. “I put a spoonful of sugar in. We always do. Don’t you like it?”
“But I put a spoonful in too, when I set them on the stove,” said Diana.
“How awful! I never dreamed you had put sugar in, because I knew your mother never does. I happened to think of it, for a wonder . . . I’m always forgetting it . . . so I popped a spoonful in.”
“It’s a case of too many cooks, I guess,” said Marilla, who had listened to this dialogue with a rather guilty expression. “I didn’t think you’d remember about the sugar, Anne, for I’m perfectly certain you never did before . . . so I put in a spoonful.”
The guests in the parlor heard peal61 after peal of laughter from the kitchen, but they never knew what the fun was about. There were no green peas on the dinner table that day, however.
“Well,” said Anne, sobering down again with a sigh of recollection, “we have the salad anyhow and I don’t think anything has happened to the beans. Let’s carry the things in and get it over.”
It cannot be said that that dinner was a notable success socially. The Allans and Miss Stacy exerted themselves to save the situation and Marilla’s customary placidity62 was not noticeably ruffled. But Anne and Diana, between their disappointment and the reaction from their excitement of the forenoon, could neither talk nor eat. Anne tried heroically to bear her part in the conversation for the sake of her guests; but all the sparkle had been quenched63 in her for the time being, and, in spite of her love for the Allans and Miss Stacy, she couldn’t help thinking how nice it would be when everybody had gone home and she could bury her weariness and disappointment in the pillows of the east gable.
There is an old proverb that really seems at times to be inspired . . . “it never rains but it pours.” The measure of that day’s tribulations64 was not yet full. Just as Mr. Allan had finished returning thanks there arose a strange, ominous65 sound on the stairs, as of some hard, heavy object bounding from step to step, finishing up with a grand smash at the bottom. Everybody ran out into the hall. Anne gave a shriek66 of dismay.
At the bottom of the stairs lay a big pink conch shell amid the fragments of what had been Miss Barry’s platter; and at the top of the stairs knelt a terrified Davy, gazing down with wide-open eyes at the havoc67.
“No, I never did,” whimpered Davy. “I was just kneeling here, quiet as quiet, to watch you folks through the bannisters, and my foot struck that old thing and pushed it off . . . and I’m awful hungry . . . and I do wish you’d lick a fellow and have done with it, instead of always sending him upstairs to miss all the fun.”
“Don’t blame Davy,” said Anne, gathering69 up the fragments with trembling fingers. “It was my fault. I set that platter there and forgot all about it. I am properly punished for my carelessness; but oh, what will Miss Barry say?”
“Well, you know she only bought it, so it isn’t the same as if it was an heirloom,” said Diana, trying to console.
The guests went away soon after, feeling that it was the most tactful thing to do, and Anne and Diana washed the dishes, talking less than they had ever been known to do before. Then Diana went home with a headache and Anne went with another to the east gable, where she stayed until Marilla came home from the post office at sunset, with a letter from Priscilla, written the day before. Mrs. Morgan had sprained70 her ankle so severely71 that she could not leave her room.
“And oh, Anne dear,” wrote Priscilla, “I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid we won’t get up to Green Gables at all now, for by the time Aunty’s ankle is well she will have to go back to Toronto. She has to be there by a certain date.”
“Well,” sighed Anne, laying the letter down on the red sandstone step of the back porch, where she was sitting, while the twilight72 rained down out of a dappled sky, “I always thought it was too good to be true that Mrs. Morgan should really come. But there . . . that speech sounds as pessimistic as Miss Eliza Andrews and I’m ashamed of making it. After all, it was NOT too good to be true . . . things just as good and far better are coming true for me all the time. And I suppose the events of today have a funny side too. Perhaps when Diana and I are old and gray we shall be able to laugh over them. But I feel that I can’t expect to do it before then, for it has truly been a bitter disappointment.”
“You’ll probably have a good many more and worse disappointments than that before you get through life,” said Marilla, who honestly thought she was making a comforting speech. “It seems to me, Anne, that you are never going to outgrow73 your fashion of setting your heart so on things and then crashing down into despair because you don’t get them.”
“I know I’m too much inclined that, way” agreed Anne ruefully. “When I think something nice is going to happen I seem to fly right up on the wings of anticipation74; and then the first thing I realize I drop down to earth with a thud. But really, Marilla, the flying part IS glorious as long as it lasts . . . it’s like soaring through a sunset. I think it almost pays for the thud.”
“Well, maybe it does,” admitted Marilla. “I’d rather walk calmly along and do without both flying and thud. But everybody has her own way of living . . . I used to think there was only one right way . . . but since I’ve had you and the twins to bring up I don’t feel so sure of it. What are you going to do about Miss Barry’s platter?”
“Pay her back the twenty dollars she paid for it, I suppose. I’m so thankful it wasn’t a cherished heirloom because then no money could replace it.”
“Maybe you could find one like it somewhere and buy it for her.”
“I’m afraid not. Platters as old as that are very scarce. Mrs. Lynde couldn’t find one anywhere for the supper. I only wish I could, for of course Miss Barry would just as soon have one platter as another, if both were equally old and genuine. Marilla, look at that big star over Mr. Harrison’s maple75 grove76, with all that holy hush77 of silvery sky about it. It gives me a feeling that is like a prayer. After all, when one can see stars and skies like that, little disappointments and accidents can’t matter so much, can they?”
“Where’s Davy?” said Marilla, with an indifferent glance at the star.
“In bed. I’ve promised to take him and Dora to the shore for a picnic tomorrow. Of course, the original agreement was that he must be good. But he TRIED to be good . . . and I hadn’t the heart to disappoint him.”
“You’ll drown yourself or the twins, rowing about the pond in that flat,” grumbled78 Marilla. “I’ve lived here for sixty years and I’ve never been on the pond yet.”
“Well, it’s never too late to mend,” said Anne roguishly. “Suppose you come with us tomorrow. We’ll shut Green Gables up and spend the whole day at the shore, daffing the world aside.”
“No, thank you,” said Marilla, with indignant emphasis. “I’d be a nice sight, wouldn’t I, rowing down the pond in a flat? I think I hear Rachel pronouncing on it. There’s Mr. Harrison driving away somewhere. Do you suppose there is any truth in the gossip that Mr. Harrison is going to see Isabella Andrews?”
“No, I’m sure there isn’t. He just called there one evening on business with Mr. Harmon Andrews and Mrs. Lynde saw him and said she knew he was courting because he had a white collar on. I don’t believe Mr. Harrison will ever marry. He seems to have a prejudice against marriage.”
“Well, you can never tell about those old bachelors. And if he had a white collar on I’d agree with Rachel that it looks suspicious, for I’m sure he never was seen with one before.”
“I think he only put it on because he wanted to conclude a business deal with Harmon Andrews,” said Anne. “I’ve heard him say that’s the only time a man needs to be particular about his appearance, because if he looks prosperous the party of the second part won’t be so likely to try to cheat him. I really feel sorry for Mr. Harrison; I don’t believe he feels satisfied with his life. It must be very lonely to have no one to care about except a parrot, don’t you think? But I notice Mr. Harrison doesn’t like to be pitied. Nobody does, I imagine.”
“There’s Gilbert coming up the lane,” said Marilla. “If he wants you to go for a row on the pond mind you put on your coat and rubbers. There’s a heavy dew tonight.”
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1
lustrous
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| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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freckled
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| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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snip
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| n.便宜货，廉价货，剪，剪断 | |
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bluebell
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| n.风铃草 | |
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chirp
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| v.(尤指鸟)唧唧喳喳的叫 | |
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placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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mowing
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| n.割草，一次收割量，牧草地v.刈，割( mow的现在分词 ) | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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alterations
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| n.改动( alteration的名词复数 )；更改；变化；改变 | |
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overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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bluebells
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| n.圆叶风铃草( bluebell的名词复数 ) | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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extorted
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| v.敲诈( extort的过去式和过去分词 )；曲解 | |
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admiration
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rite
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bouquet
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| n.花束，酒香 | |
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rosebud
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| n.蔷薇花蕾，妙龄少女 | |
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rosebuds
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| 蔷薇花蕾，妙龄少女，初入社交界的少女( rosebud的名词复数 ) | |
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allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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scoured
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| 走遍（某地）搜寻（人或物）( scour的过去式和过去分词 )； （用力）刷； 擦净； 擦亮 | |
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gloss
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| n.光泽，光滑；虚饰；注释；vt.加光泽于；掩饰 | |
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emanating
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| v.从…处传出，传出( emanate的现在分词 )；产生，表现，显示 | |
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lettuce
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| n.莴苣；生菜 | |
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minced
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| v.切碎( mince的过去式和过去分词 )；剁碎；绞碎；用绞肉机绞（食物，尤指肉） | |
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redeeming
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| 补偿的，弥补的 | |
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untying
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| untie的现在分词 | |
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rites
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| 仪式，典礼( rite的名词复数 ) | |
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freckles
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| n.雀斑，斑点( freckle的名词复数 ) | |
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converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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mortification
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| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
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shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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concoct
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| v.调合，制造 | |
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casement
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| n.竖铰链窗；窗扉 | |
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misgivings
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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exhorting
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| v.劝告，劝说( exhort的现在分词 ) | |
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bazaar
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| n.集市，商店集中区 | |
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brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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twine
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| v.搓，织，编饰；（使）缠绕 | |
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disastrous
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| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
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sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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interceding
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| v.斡旋，调解( intercede的现在分词 )；说情 | |
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wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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mashing
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| 捣碎 | |
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grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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peal
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| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
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placidity
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| n.平静，安静，温和 | |
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quenched
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| 解（渴）( quench的过去式和过去分词 )； 终止（某事物）； （用水）扑灭（火焰等）； 将（热物体）放入水中急速冷却 | |
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tribulations
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| n.苦难( tribulation的名词复数 )；艰难；苦难的缘由；痛苦 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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havoc
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| n.大破坏，浩劫，大混乱，大杂乱 | |
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ominously
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| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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sprained
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| v.&n. 扭伤 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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outgrow
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| vt.长大得使…不再适用；成长得不再要 | |
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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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maple
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| n.槭树，枫树，槭木 | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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