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Anne of Avonlea-Part14_L.Maud Montgomery(1874-1942)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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spluttering. Anne dropped into her chair white with dismay and all

the girls climbed shrieking upon their desks. Joe Sloane stood as



one transfixed in the midst of the commotion and St. Clair,

helpless with laughter, rocked to and fro in the aisle. Prillie



Rogerson fainted and Annetta Bell went into hysterics.

It seemed a long time, although it was really only a few minutes,



before the last pinwheel subsided. Anne, recovering herself,

sprang to open doors and windows and let out the gas and smoke



which filled the room. Then she helped the girls carry the

unconscious Prillie into the porch, where Barbara Shaw, in an agony



of desire to be useful, poured a pailful of half frozen water over

Prillie's face and shoulders before anyone could stop her.



It was a full hour before quiet was restored . . .but it was a

quiet that might be felt. Everybody realized that even the



explosion had not cleared the teacher's mental atmosphere.

Nobody, except Anthony Pye, dared whisper a word. Ned Clay



accidentally squeaked his pencil while working a sum, caught

Anne's eye and wished the floor would open and swallow him up.



The geography class were whisked through a continent with a speed

that made them dizzy. The grammar class were parsed and analyzed



within an inch of their lives. Chester Sloane, spelling "odoriferous"

with two f's, was made to feel that he could never live down the



disgrace of it, either in this world or that which is to come.

Anne knew that she had made herself ridiculous and that the



incident would be laughed over that night at a score of tea-tables,

but the knowledge only angered her further. In a calmer mood she



could have carried off the situation with a laugh but now that was

impossible; so she ignored it in icy disdain.



When Anne returned to the school after dinner all the children were

as usual in their seats and every face was bent studiously over a



desk except Anthony Pye's. He peered across his book at Anne, his

black eyes sparkling with curiosity and mockery. Anne twitched



open the drawer of her desk in search of chalk and under her very

hand a lively mouse sprang out of the drawer, scampered over the



desk, and leaped to the floor.

Anne screamed and sprang back, as if it had been a snake, and



Anthony Pye laughed aloud.

Then a silence fell. . .a very creepy, uncomfortable silence.



Annetta Bell was of two minds whether to go into hysterics again

or not, especially as she didn't know just where the mouse had gone.



But she decided not to. Who could take any comfort out of

hysterics with a teacher so white-faced and so blazing-eyed



standing before one?

"Who put that mouse in my desk?" said Anne. Her voice was quite



low but it made a shiver go up and down Paul Irving's spine. Joe

Sloane caught her eye, felt responsible from the crown of his head



to the sole of his feet, but stuttered out wildly,

"N. . .n. . .not m. . .m. . .me t. . .t. . .teacher, n. . .n. .



.not m. . .m. . .me."

Anne paid no attention to the wretched Joseph. She looked at



Anthony Pye, and Anthony Pye looked back unabashed and unashamed.

"Anthony, was it you?"



"Yes, it was," said Anthony insolently.

Anne took her pointer from her desk. It was a long, heavy hardwood pointer.



"Come here, Anthony."

It was far from being the most severepunishment Anthony Pye had



ever undergone. Anne, even the stormy-souled Anne she was at that

moment, could not have punished any child cruelly. But the pointer



nipped keenly and finally Anthony's bravado failed him; he winced

and the tears came to his eyes.



Anne, conscience-stricken, dropped the pointer and told Anthony to

go to his seat. She sat down at her desk feeling ashamed,



repentant, and bitterly mortified. Her quick anger was gone and

she would have given much to have been able to seek relief in



tears. So all her boasts had come to this. . .she had actually

whipped one of her pupils. How Jane would triumph! And how



Mr. Harrison would chuckle! But worse than this, bitterest

thought of all, she had lost her last chance of winning Anthony Pye.



Never would he like her now.

Anne, by what somebody has called "a Herculaneum effort," kept back



her tears until she got home that night. Then she shut herself in

the east gable room and wept all her shame and remorse and



disappointment into her pillows. . .wept so long that Marilla grew




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