curls. "Fare thee well, my
beloved friend. Henceforth we must
be as strangers though living side by side. But my heart will
ever be
faithful to thee."
Anne stood and watched Diana out of sight, mournfully waving her
hand to the latter
whenever she turned to look back. Then she
returned to the house, not a little consoled for the time being
by this
romanticparting.
"It is all over," she informed Marilla. "I shall never have
another friend. I'm really worse off than ever before, for I
haven't Katie Maurice and Violetta now. And even if I had it
wouldn't be the same. Somehow, little dream girls are not
satisfying after a real friend. Diana and I had such an
affecting
farewell down by the spring. It will be
sacred in my
memory forever. I used the most
pathetic language I could think
of and said `thou' and `thee.' `Thou' and `thee' seem so much
more
romantic than `you.' Diana gave me a lock of her hair and
I'm going to sew it up in a little bag and wear it around my neck
all my life. Please see that it is buried with me, for I don't
believe I'll live very long. Perhaps when she sees me lying cold
and dead before her Mrs. Barry may feel
remorse for what she has
done and will let Diana come to my funeral."
"I don't think there is much fear of your dying of grief as long
as you can talk, Anne," said Marilla unsym
pathetically.
The following Monday Anne surprised Marilla by coming down from
her room with her basket of books on her arm and hip??? lips primmed
up into a line of determination.
"I'm going back to school," she announced. "That is all there is
left in life for me, now that my friend has been ruthlessly torn
from me. In school I can look at her and muse over days
departed."
"You'd better muse over your lessons and sums," said Marilla,
concealing her delight at this development of the situation. "If
you're going back to school I hope we'll hear no more of breaking
slates over people's heads and such carryings on. Behave
yourself and do just what your teacher tells you."
"I'll try to be a model pupil," agreed Anne dolefully. "There
won't be much fun in it, I expect. Mr. Phillips said Minnie
Andrews was a model pupil and there isn't a spark of imagination
or life in her. She is just dull and poky and never seems to
have a good time. But I feel so
depressed that perhaps it will
come easy to me now. I'm going round by the road. I couldn't
bear to go by the Birch Path all alone. I should weep bitter
tears if I did."
Anne was welcomed back to school with open arms. Her imagination
had been
sorely missed in games, her voice in the singing and her
dramatic
ability in the perusal aloud of books at dinner hour.
Ruby Gillis smuggled three blue plums over to her during
testament
reading; Ella May MacPherson gave her an enormous
yellow pansy cut from the covers of a floral catalogue--a species
of desk
decoration much prized in Avonlea school. Sophia Sloane
offered to teach her a
perfectlyelegant new pattern of knit
lace, so nice for trimming aprons. Katie Boulter gave her a
perfume bottle to keep slate water in, and Julia Bell copied
carefully on a piece of pale pink paper scalloped on the edges
the following effusion:
When
twilight drops her curtain down
And pins it with a star
Remember that you have a friend
Though she may
wander far.
"It's so nice to be appreciated," sighed Anne rapturously to
Marilla that night.
The girls were not the only scholars who "appreciated" her. When
Anne went to her seat after dinner hour--she had been told by Mr.
Phillips to sit with the model Minnie Andrews--she found on her
desk a big
luscious "
strawberry apple." Anne caught it up all
ready to take a bite when she remembered that the only place in
Avonlea where
strawberry apples grew was in the old Blythe
orchard on the other side of the Lake of Shining Waters. Anne
dropped the apple as if it were a red-hot coal and ostentatiously
wiped her fingers on her
handkerchief. The apple lay untouched
on her desk until the next morning, when little Timothy Andrews,
who swept the school and kindled the fire, annexed it as one of
his perquisites. Charlie Sloane's slate pencil, gorgeously
bedizened with
striped red and yellow paper, costing two cents
where ordinary pencils cost only one, which he sent up to her
after dinner hour, met with a more
favorablereception. Anne was
graciously pleased to accept it and rewarded the donor with a