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thought ruefully, as she climbed the lane fence and started on a

short cut across the fields, golden in the light of the dreamy



August evening. "I know now just how people feel who are being led

to execution."



III

Mr. Harrison at Home



Mr. Harrison's house was an old-fashioned, low-eaved, whitewashed

structure, set against a thick spruce grove.



Mr. Harrison himself was sitting on his vineshaded veranda, in his

shirt sleeves, enjoying his evening pipe. When he realized who was



coming up the path he sprang suddenly to his feet, bolted into the

house, and shut the door. This was merely the uncomfortable result



of his surprise, mingled with a good deal of shame over his outburst

of temper the day before. But it nearly swept the remnant of her



courage from Anne's heart.

"If he's so cross now what will he be when he hears what I've



done," she reflected miserably, as she rapped at the door.

But Mr. Harrison opened it, smiling sheepishly, and invited her



to enter in a tone quite mild and friendly, if somewhat nervous.

He had laid aside his pipe and donned his coat; he offered Anne a very



dusty chair very politely, and her reception would have passed off

pleasantly enough if it had not been for the telltale of a parrot who



was peering through the bars of his cage with wicked golden eyes.

No sooner had Anne seated herself than Ginger exclaimed,



"Bless my soul, what's that redheaded snippet coming here for?"

It would be hard to say whose face was the redder, Mr. Harrison's



or Anne's.

"Don't you mind that parrot," said Mr. Harrison, casting a furious



glance at Ginger. "He's. . .he's always talking nonsense. I got

him from my brother who was a sailor. Sailors don't always use the



choicest language, and parrots are very imitative birds."

"So I should think," said poor Anne, the remembrance of her errand



quelling her resentment. She couldn't afford to snub Mr. Harrison

under the circumstances, that was certain. When you had just sold



a man's Jersey cow offhand, without his knowledge or consent

you must not mind if his parrotrepeated uncomplimentary things.



Nevertheless, the "redheaded snippet" was not quite so meek as she

might otherwise have been.



"I've come to confess something to you, Mr. Harrison," she said

resolutely. "It's. . .it's about. . .that Jersey cow"



"Bless my soul," exclaimed Mr. Harrison nervously" target="_blank" title="ad.神经质地;胆怯地">nervously, "has she gone

and broken into my oats again? Well, never mind. . .never mind if



she has. It's no difference. . .none at all. I. . .I was too

hasty yesterday, that's a fact. Never mind if she has."



"Oh, if it were only that," sighed Anne. "But it's ten times

worse. I don't..."



"Bless my soul, do you mean to say she's got into my wheat?"

"No. . .no. . .not the wheat. But. . ."



"Then it's the cabbages! She's broken into my cabbages that I was

raising for Exhibition, hey?"



"It's NOT the cabbages, Mr. Harrison. I'll tell you everything. . .

that is what I came for -- but please don't interrupt me. It makes



me so nervous. Just let me tell my story and don't say anything

till I get through -- and then no doubt you'll say plenty,"



Anne concluded, but in thought only.

"I won't say another word," said Mr. Harrison, and he didn't. But



Ginger was not bound by any contract of silence and kept ejaculating,

"Redheaded snippet" at intervals until Anne felt quite wild.



"I shut my Jersey cow up in our pen yesterday. This morning I went

to Carmody and when I came back I saw a Jersey cow in your oats.



Diana and I chased her out and you can't imagine what a hard time

we had. I was so dreadfully wet and tired and vexed -- and Mr.



Shearer came by that very minute and offered to buy the cow. I

sold her to him on the spot for twenty dollars. It was wrong of me.



I should have waited and consulted Marilla, of course. But I'm

dreadfully given to doing things without thinking -- everybody



who knows me will tell you that. Mr. Shearer took the cow right

away to ship her on the afternoon train."



"Redheaded snippet," quoted Ginger in a tone of profound contempt.

At this point Mr. Harrison arose and, with an expression that would



have struck terror into any bird but a parrot, carried Ginger's cage

into an adjoining room and shut the door. Ginger shrieked, swore,



and otherwise conducted himself in keeping with his reputation,

but finding himself left alone, relapsed into sulky silence.






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