Then Charlie transferred his blighted affections to a round,
rosy, snub-nosed, blue-eyed, little Sophomore who appreciated
them as they deserved,
whereupon he forgave Anne and condescended
to be civil to her again; in a patronizing manner intended to
show her just what she had lost.
One day Anne scurried
excitedly into Priscilla's room.
"Read that," she cried, tossing Priscilla a letter. "It's from
Stella -- and she's coming to Redmond next year -- and what do
you think of her idea? I think it's a
perfectly splendid one,
if we can only carry it out. Do you suppose we can, Pris?"
"I'll be better able to tell you when I find out what it is,"
said Priscilla, casting aside a Greek lexicon and
taking up
Stella's letter. Stella Maynard had been one of their chums at
Queen's Academy and had been teaching school ever since.
"But I'm going to give it up, Anne dear," she wrote, "and go to
college next year. As I took the third year at Queen's I can
enter the Sophomore year. I'm tired of teaching in a back
country school. Some day I'm going to write a
treatise on
`The Trials of a Country Schoolmarm.' It will be a harrowing bit
of
realism. It seems to be the
prevailingimpression that we live
in
clover, and have nothing to do but draw our quarter's salary.
My
treatise shall tell the truth about us. Why, if a week should
pass without some one telling me that I am doing easy work for
big pay I would conclude that I might as well order my ascension
robe `immediately and to onct.' `Well, you get your money easy,'
some rate-payer will tell me, condescendingly. `All you have to
do is to sit there and hear lessons.' I used to argue the matter
at first, but I'm wiser now. Facts are
stubborn things, but
as some one has
wisely said, not half so
stubborn as fallacies.
So I only smile loftily now in
eloquent silence. Why, I have nine
grades in my school and I have to teach a little of everything,
from investigating the interiors of earthworms to the study of
the solar
system. My youngest pupil is four -- his mother sends
him to school to `get him out of the way' -- and my oldest twenty
-- it `suddenly struck him' that it would be easier to go to
school and get an education than follow the
plough any longer.
In the wild effort to cram all sorts of
research into six hours a
day I don't wonder if the children feel like the little boy who
was taken to see the biograph. `I have to look for what's coming
next before I know what went last,' he complained. I feel like
that myself.
"And the letters I get, Anne! Tommy's mother writes me that
Tommy is not coming on in
arithmetic as fast as she would like.
He is only in simple
reduction yet, and Johnny Johnson is in
fractions, and Johnny isn't half as smart as her Tommy, and she
can't understand it. And Susy's father wants to know why Susy
can't write a letter without misspelling half the words, and
Dick's aunt wants me to change his seat, because that bad Brown
boy he is sitting with is teaching him to say
naughty words.
"As to the
financial part -- but I'll not begin on that. Those
whom the gods wish to destroy they first make country schoolmarms!
"There, I feel better, after that growl. After all, I've enjoyed
these past two years. But I'm coming to Redmond.
"And now, Anne, I've a little plan. You know how I
loathe boarding.
I've boarded for four years and I'm so tired of it. I don't feel like
enduring three years more of it.
Now, why can't you and Priscilla and I club together, rent
a little house somewhere in Kingsport, and board ourselves?
It would be cheaper than any other way. Of course, we would
have to have a
housekeeper and I have one ready on the spot.
You've heard me speak of Aunt Jamesina? She's the sweetest
aunt that ever lived, in spite of her name. She can't help that!
She was called Jamesina because her father, whose name was James,
was drowned at sea a month before she was born. I always call her
Aunt Jimsie. Well, her only daughter has recently married and
gone to the foreign
mission field. Aunt Jamesina is left alone
in a great big house, and she is
horriblylonesome. She will
come to Kingsport and keep house for us if we want her, and I
know you'll both love her. The more I think of the plan the more
I like it. We could have such good, independent times.
"Now, if you and Priscilla agree to it, wouldn't it be a good
idea for you, who are on the spot, to look around and see if you
can find a
suitable house this spring? That would be better than
leaving it till the fall. If you could get a furnished one so
much the better, but if not, we can scare up a few sticks of
finiture between us and old family friends with attics. Anyhow,
decide as soon as you can and write me, so that Aunt Jamesina
will know what plans to make for next year."
"I think it's a good idea," said Priscilla.
"So do I," agreed Anne delightedly. "Of course, we have a nice
boardinghouse here, but, when all's said and done, a boardinghouse
isn't home. So let's go house-hunting at once, before exams come on."
"I'm afraid it will be hard enough to get a really
suitable house,"
warned Priscilla. "Don't expect too much, Anne. Nice houses in
nice localities will probably be away beyond our means. We'll likely
have to content ourselves with a
shabby little place on some street
whereon live people whom to know is to be unknown, and make life
inside
compensate for the outside."
Accordingly they went house-hunting, but to find just what
they wanted proved even harder than Priscilla had feared.
Houses there were galore, furnished and unfurnished; but one
was too big, another too small; this one too
expensive, that
one too far from Redmond. Exams were on and over; the last
week of the term came and still their "house o'dreams," as
Anne called it, remained a castle in the air.
"We shall have to give up and wait till the fall, I suppose," said
Priscilla
wearily, as they rambled through the park on one of April's
darling days of
breeze and blue, when the harbor was creaming and
shimmering beneath the pearl-hued mists floating over it. "We may
find some shack to shelter us then; and if not, boardinghouses we
shall have always with us."
"I'm not going to worry about it just now, anyway, and spoil this
lovely afternoon," said Anne, gazing around her with delight.
The fresh chill air was
faintly charged with the aroma of pine
balsam, and the sky above was
crystal clear and blue -- a great
inverted cup of
blessing. "Spring is singing in my blood today,
and the lure of April is
abroad on the air. I'm
seeing visions
and dreaming dreams, Pris. That's because the wind is from the
west. I do love the west wind. It sings of hope and gladness,
doesn't it? When the east wind blows I always think of sorrowful
rain on the eaves and sad waves on a gray shore. When I get old
I shall have
rheumatism when the wind is east."
"And isn't it jolly when you
discard furs and winter garments
for the first time and sally forth, like this, in spring attire?"
laughed Priscilla. "Don't you feel as if you had been made over new?"
"Everything is new in the spring," said Anne. "Springs themselves
are always so new, too. No spring is ever just like any other spring.
It always has something of its own to be its own
peculiar sweetness.
See how green the grass is around that little pond, and how the willow
buds are bursting."
"And exams are over and gone -- the time of Convocation will come
soon -- next Wednesday. This day next week we'll be home."
"I'm glad," said Anne dreamily. "There are so many things I want
to do. I want to sit on the back porch steps and feel the
breezeblowing down over Mr. Harrison's fields. I want to hunt ferns
in the Haunted Wood and gather
violets in Violet Vale. Do you
remember the day of our golden
picnic, Priscilla? I want to hear
the frogs singing and the poplars
whispering. But I've learned
to love Kingsport, too, and I'm glad I'm coming back next fall.
If I hadn't won the Thorburn I don't believe I could have. I
COULDN'T take any of Marilla's little hoard."
"If we could only find a house!" sighed Priscilla. "Look over
there at Kingsport, Anne -- houses, houses everywhere, and not
one for us."
"Stop it, Pris. `The best is yet to be.' Like the old Roman,
we'll find a house or build one. On a day like this there's
no such word as fail in my bright lexicon."
They lingered in the park until
sunset, living in the amazing
miracle and glory and wonder of the springtide; and they went
home as usual, by way of Spofford Avenue, that they might have
the delight of looking at Patty's Place.
"I feel as if something
mysterious were going to happen right
away -- `by the pricking of my thumbs,' " said Anne, as they went
up the slope. "It's a nice story-bookish feeling. Why -- why --
why! Priscilla Grant, look over there and tell me if it's true,
or am I seein' things?"
Priscilla looked. Anne's thumbs and eyes had not deceived her.
Over the
archedgateway of Patty's Place dangled a little, modest
sign. It said "To Let, Furnished. Inquire Within."
"Priscilla," said Anne, in a
whisper, "do you suppose it's
possible that we could rent Patty's Place?"
"No, I don't," averred Priscilla. "It would be too good to be
true. Fairy tales don't happen nowadays. I won't hope, Anne.
The
disappointment would be too awful to bear. They're sure to
want more for it than we can afford. Remember, it's on Spofford
Avenue."
"We must find out anyhow," said Anne
resolutely. "It's too late
to call this evening, but we'll come tomorrow. Oh, Pris, if we
can get this
darling spot! I've always felt that my fortunes
were linked with Patty's Place, ever since I saw it first."
Chapter X
Patty's Place
The next evening found them treading
resolutely the herring-bone
walk through the tiny garden. The April wind was filling the
pine trees with its roundelay, and the grove was alive with robins
-- great, plump, saucy fellows, strutting along the paths.
The girls rang rather
timidly, and were admitted by a grim and
ancient handmaiden. The door opened directly into a large
living-room, where by a
cheery little fire sat two other ladies,
both of whom were also grim and ancient. Except that one looked
to be about seventy and the other fifty, there seemed little
difference between them. Each had
amazingly big, light-blue eyes
behind steel-rimmed spectacles; each wore a cap and a gray shawl;
each was
knitting without haste and without rest; each rocked
placidly and looked at the girls without
speaking; and just
behind each sat a large white china dog, with round green spots
all over it, a green nose and green ears. Those dogs captured
Anne's fancy on the spot; they seemed like the twin guardian
deities of Patty's Place.
For a few minutes nobody spoke. The girls were too
nervous to
find words, and neither the ancient ladies nor the china dogs
seemed conversationally inclined. Anne glanced about the room.
What a dear place it was! Another door opened out of it directly
into the pine grove and the robins came
boldly up on the very step.
The floor was spotted with round, braided mats, such as Marilla
made at Green Gables, but which were considered out of date
everywhere else, even in Avonlea. And yet here they were on
Spofford Avenue! A big, polished grandfather's clock ticked
loudly and
solemnly in a corner. There were
delightful little
cupboards over the mantelpiece, behind whose glass doors gleamed
quaint bits of china. The walls were hung with old prints and
silhouettes. In one corner the stairs went up, and at the first
low turn was a long window with an
inviting seat. It was all
just as Anne had known it must be.
By this time the silence had grown too
dreadful, and Priscilla
nudged Anne to
intimate that she must speak.
"We -- we -- saw by your sign that this house is to let," said Anne
faintly, addressing the older lady, who was
evidently Miss Patty Spofford.
"Oh, yes," said Miss Patty. "I intended to take that sign down today."
"Then -- then we are too late," said Anne sorrowfully. "You've let it
to some one else?"