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Mr. Allan says so. I read one of my stories to him and Mrs. Allan



and they both agreed that the moral was excellent. Only they laughed

in the wrong places. I like it better when people cry. Jane and Ruby



almost always cry when I come to the pathetic parts. Diana wrote her

Aunt Josephine about our club and her Aunt Josephine wrote back that



we were to send her some of our stories. So we copied out four of

our very best and sent them. Miss Josephine Barry wrote back that



she had never read anything so amusing in her life. That kind of

puzzled us because the stories were all very pathetic and almost



everybody died. But I'm glad Miss Barry liked them. It shows our

club is doing some good in the world. Mrs. Allan says that ought



to be our object in everything. I do really try to make it my

object but I forget so often when I'm having fun. I hope I shall



be a little like Mrs. Allan when I grow up. Do you think there is

any prospect of it, Marilla?"



"I shouldn't say there was a great deal" was Marilla's

encouraging answer. "I'm sure Mrs. Allan was never such a



silly, forgetful little girl as you are."

"No; but she wasn't always so good as she is now either," said



Anne seriously. "She told me so herself--that is, she said she

was a dreadfulmischief when she was a girl and was always



getting into scrapes. I felt so encouraged when I heard that.

Is it very wicked of me, Marilla, to feel encouraged when I hear



that other people have been bad and mischievous? Mrs. Lynde says

it is. Mrs. Lynde says she always feels shocked when she hears



of anyone ever having been naughty, no matter how small they were.

Mrs. Lynde says she once heard a ministerconfess that when he was



a boy he stole a strawberry tart out of his aunt's pantry and she

never had any respect for that minister again. Now, I wouldn't



have felt that way. I'd have thought that it was real noble of him

to confess it, and I'd have thought what an encouraging thing it



would be for small boys nowadays who do naughty things and are

sorry for them to know that perhaps they may grow up to be ministers



in spite of it. That's how I'd feel, Marilla."

"The way I feel at present, Anne," said Marilla, "is that it's



high time you had those dishes washed. You've taken half an hour

longer than you should with all your chattering. Learn to work



first and talk afterwards."

CHAPTER XXVII



Vanity and Vexation of Spirit

Marilla, walking home one late April evening from an Aid meeting,



realized that the winter was over and gone with the thrill of

delight that spring never fails to bring to the oldest and



saddest as well as to the youngest and merriest. Marilla was not

given to subjective analysis of her thoughts and feelings. She



probably imagined that she was thinking about the Aids and their

missionary box and the new carpet for the vestry room, but under



these reflections was a harmoniousconsciousness of red fields

smoking into pale-purply mists in the declining sun, of long,



sharp-pointed fir shadows falling over the meadow beyond the

brook, of still, crimson-budded maples around a mirrorlike wood



pool, of a wakening in the world and a stir of hidden pulses

under the gray sod. The spring was abroad in the land and



Marilla's sober, middle-aged step was lighter and swifter because

of its deep, primal gladness.



Her eyes dwelt affectionately on Green Gables, peering through

its network of trees and reflecting the sunlight back from its



windows in several little coruscations of glory. Marilla, as she

picked her steps along the damp lane, thought that it was really



a satisfaction to know that she was going home to a briskly

snapping wood fire and a table nicely spread for tea, instead of



to the cold comfort of old Aid meeting evenings before Anne had

come to Green Gables.



Consequently, when Marilla entered her kitchen and found the fire

black out, with no sign of Anne anywhere, she felt justly



disappointed and irritated. She had told Anne to be sure and

have tea ready at five o'clock, but now she must hurry to take



off her second-best dress and prepare the meal herself against

Matthew's return from plowing.



"I'll settle Miss Anne when she comes home," said Marilla grimly,

as she shaved up kindlings with a carving knife and with more vim



than was strictly necessary. Matthew had come in and was waiting




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