She
hurriedly unlocked the back door, produced the axe, and with a few
skillfull blows set Anne free. The latter, somewhat tired and stiff,
ducked down into the
interior of her prison and thankfully emerged
into liberty once more.
"Miss Copp," she said
earnestly. "I assure you I looked into your
pantry window only to discover if you had a willow-ware
platter.
I didn't see anything else -- I didn't LOOK for anything else."
"Bless you, that's all right," said Miss Sarah amiably. "You
needn't worry -- there's no harm done. Thank
goodness, we Copps
keep our pantries presentable at all times and don't care who sees
into them. As for that old duckhouse, I'm glad it's smashed, for
maybe now Martha will agree to having it taken down. She never
would before for fear it might come in handy
sometime and I've had to
whitewash it every spring. But you might as well argue with a post
as with Martha. She went to town today -- I drove her to the station.
And you want to buy my
platter. Well, what will you give for it?"
"Twenty dollars," said Anne, who was never meant to match business
wits with a Copp, or she would not have offered her price at the start.
"Well, I'll see," said Miss Sarah
cautiously. "That
platter is mine
fortunately, or I'd never dare to sell it when Martha wasn't here.
As it is, I daresay she'll raise a fuss. Martha's the boss
of this
establishment I can tell you. I'm getting awful tired of
living under another woman's thumb. But come in, come in. You
must be real tired and hungry. I'll do the best I can for you in
the way of tea but I warn you not to expect anything but bread and
butter and some cowcumbers. Martha locked up all the cake and
cheese and preserves afore she went. She always does, because she
says I'm too
extravagant with them if company comes."
The girls were hungry enough to do justice to any fare, and they
enjoyed Miss Sarah's excellent bread and butter and "cowcumbers"
thoroughly. When the meal was over Miss Sarah said,
"I don't know as I mind selling the
platter. But it's worth
twenty-five dollars. It's a very old
platter."
Diana gave Anne's foot a gentle kick under the table, meaning,
"Don't agree -- she'll let it go for twenty if you hold out."
But Anne was not
minded to take any chances in regard to that
precious
platter. She
promptly agreed to give twenty-five and
Miss Sarah looked as if she felt sorry she hadn't asked for thirty.
"Well, I guess you may have it. I want all the money I can scare
up just now. The fact is -- " Miss Sarah threw up her head
importantly, with a proud flush on her thin cheeks -- "I'm going
to be married -- to Luther Wallace. He wanted me twenty years ago.
I liked him real well but he was poor then and father packed him off.
I s'pose I shouldn't have let him go so meek but I was timid and
frightened of father. Besides, I didn't know men were so skurse."
When the girls were
safely away, Diana driving and Anne
holdingthe coveted
platter carefully on her lap, the green, rain-freshened
solitudes of the Tory Road were enlivened by ripples of girlish
laughter.
"I'll amuse your Aunt Josephine with the `strange eventful history'
of this afternoon when I go to town tomorrow. We've had a rather
trying time but it's over now. I've got the
platter, and that rain
has laid the dust
beautifully. So `all's well that ends well.'"
"We're not home yet," said Diana rather pessimistically, "and
there's no telling what may happen before we are. You're such
a girl to have adventures, Anne."
"Having adventures comes natural to some people," said Anne
serenely. "You just have a gift for them or you haven't."
XIX
Just a Happy Day
"After all," Anne had said to Marilla once, "I believe the nicest and
sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful
or exciting happens but just those that bring simple little pleasures,
following one another
softly, like pearls slipping off a string."
Life at Green Gables was full of just such days, for Anne's adventures
and misadventures, like those of other people, did not all happen at once,
but were sprinkled over the year, with long stretches of
harmless, happy
days between, filled with work and dreams and
laughter and lessons.
Such a day came late in August. In the
forenoon Anne and Diana rowed
the
delighted twins down the pond to the sandshore to pick "sweet grass"
and
paddle in the surf, over which the wind was harping an old lyric
learned when the world was young.
In the afternoon Anne walked down to the old Irving place to see Paul.
She found him stretched out on the
grassy bank beside the thick fir