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"Davy," said Marilla ominously, "did you throw that conch down ON PURPOSE?"
"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, gathering 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 sprained her ankle so severely 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 twilight
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 outgrow 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 anticipation; 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 maple grove, with all that holy

hush 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,"
grumbled 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 indignantemphasis. "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."
XVIII

An Adventure on the Tory Road
"Anne," said Davy, sitting up in bed and propping his chin on

his hands, "Anne, where is sleep? People go to sleep every night,
and of course I know it's the place where I do the things I dream,

but I want to know WHERE it is and how I get there and back without
knowing anything about it. . .and in my nighty too. Where is it?"

Anne was kneeling at the west gable window watching the sunset sky that
was like a great flower with petals of crocus and a heart of fiery yellow.

She turned her head at Davy's question and answered dreamily,
"`Over the mountains of the moon,

Down the valley of the shadow.'"
Paul Irving would have known the meaning of this, or made a meaning

out of it for himself, if he didn't; but practical Davy, who, as
Anne often despairingly remarked, hadn't a particle of imagination,

was only puzzled and disgusted.
"Anne, I believe you're just talking nonsense."

"Of course, I was, dear boy. Don't you know that it is only very
foolish folk who talk sense all the time?"

"Well, I think you might give a sensible answer when I ask a
sensible question," said Davy in an injured tone.

"Oh, you are too little to understand," said Anne. But she felt rather
ashamed of saying it; for had she not, in keen remembrance of many

similar snubs administered in her own early years, solemnly vowed
that she would never tell any child it was too little to understand?

Yet here she was doing it. . .so wide sometimes is the gulf between
theory and practice.

"Well, I'm doing my best to grow," said Davy, "but it's a thing you
can't hurry much. If Marilla wasn't so stingy with her jam I believe

I'd grow a lot faster."
"Marilla is not stingy, Davy," said Anne severely. "It is very

ungrateful of you to say such a thing."
"There's another word that means the same thing and sounds a lot

better, but I don't just remember it," said Davy, frowning intently.
"I heard Marilla say she was it, herself, the other day."

"If you mean ECONOMICAL, it's a VERY different thing from being stingy.
It is an excellent trait in a person if she is economical.

If Marilla had been stingy she wouldn't have taken you and Dora
when your mother died. Would you have liked to live with Mrs. Wiggins?"

"You just bet I wouldn't!" Davy was emphatic on that point. "Nor I
don't want to go out to Uncle Richard neither. I'd far rather live

here, even if Marilla is that long-tailed word when it comes to jam,
'cause YOU'RE here, Anne. Say, Anne, won't you tell me a story

'fore I go to sleep? I don't want a fairy story. They're all
right for girls, I s'pose, but I want something exciting. . .lots

of killing and shooting in it, and a house on fire, and in'trusting
things like that."

Fortunately for Anne, Marilla called out at this moment from her room.
"Anne, Diana's signaling at a great rate. You'd better see what she wants."

Anne ran to the east gable and saw flashes of light coming through
the twilight from Diana's window in groups of five, which meant,

according to their old childish code, "Come over at once for I have
something important to reveal." Anne threw her white shawl over her

head and hastened through the Haunted Wood and across Mr. Bell's
pasture corner to Orchard Slope.

"I've good news for you, Anne," said Diana. "Mother and I have
just got home from Carmody, and I saw Mary Sentner from Spencer

vale in Mr. Blair's store. She says the old Copp girls on the
Tory Road have a willow-ware platter and she thinks it's exactly

like the one we had at the supper. She says they'll likely sell it,
for Martha Copp has never been known to keep anything she COULD sell;

but if they won't there's a platter at Wesley Keyson's at Spencervale
and she knows they'd sell it, but she isn't sure it's just the same

kind as Aunt Josephine's."
"I'll go right over to Spencervale after it tomorrow," said Anne

resolutely, "and you must come with me. It will be such a weight
off my mind, for I have to go to town day after tomorrow and how

can I face your Aunt Josephine without a willow-ware platter?
It would be even worse than the time I had to confess about

jumping on the spare room bed."
Both girls laughed over the old memory. . .concerning which, if

any of my readers are ignorant and curious, I must refer them to
Anne's earlier history.

The next afternoon the girls fared forth on their platter hunting
expedition. It was ten miles to Spencervale and the day was not

especially pleasant for traveling. It was very warm and windless,
and the dust on the road was such as might have been expected after

six weeks of dry weather.
"Oh, I do wish it would rain soon," sighed Anne. "Everything is so

parched up. The poor fields just seem pitiful to me and the trees
seem to be stretching out their hands pleading for rain. As for my

garden, it hurts me every time I go into it. I suppose I shouldn't
complain about a garden when the farmers' crops are suffering so.

Mr. Harrison says his pastures are so scorched up that his poor
cows can hardly get a bite to eat and he feels guilty of cruelty

to animals every time he meets their eyes."
After a wearisome drive the girls reached Spencervale and turned

down the "Tory" Road. . .a green, solitaryhighway where the strips
of grass between the wheel tracks bore evidence to lack of travel.

Along most of its extent it was lined with thick-set young spruces
crowding down to the roadway, with here and there a break where the

back field of a Spencervale farm came out to the fence or an expanse
of stumps was aflame with fireweed and goldenrod.

"Why is it called the Tory Road?" asked Anne.
"Mr. Allan says it is on the principle of calling a place a grove

because there are no trees in it," said Diana, "for nobody lives
along the road except the Copp girls and old Martin Bovyer at the

further end, who is a Liberal. The Tory government ran the road
through when they were in power just to show they were doing something."

Diana's father was a Liberal, for which reason she and Anne never
discussed politics. Green Gables folk had always been Conservatives.

Finally the girls came to the old Copp homestead. . .a place of


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