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Matthew Cuthbert is surprised. Marilla Cuthbert is Surprised. Marilla Makes Up Her Mind. Anne's Bringing-up Is Begun. Rachel Lynde Is Properly Horrified. Begin Reading. Lucy Maud Montgomery View Profile. Accordingly, after milking, behold Marilla and Anne walking down the lane, the former erect and triumphant, the latter drooping and dejected.
She lifted her head and stepped lightly along, her eyes fixed on the sunset sky and an air of subdued exhilaration about her. Marilla beheld the change disapprovingly. This was no meek penitent such as it behooved her to take into the presence of the offended Mrs. This was satisfactory—or should have been so. But Marilla could not rid herself of the notion that something in her scheme of punishment was going askew.
Anne had no business to look so rapt and radiant. Rapt and radiant Anne continued until they were in the very presence of Mrs. Lynde, who was sitting knitting by her kitchen window.
Then the radiance vanished. Mournful penitence appeared on every feature. Before a word was spoken Anne suddenly went down on her knees before the astonished Mrs. Rachel and held out her hands beseechingly. You must just imagine it. It was very wicked of me to fly into a temper because you told me the truth. It was the truth; every word you said was true. Oh, Mrs.
Lynde, please, please, forgive me. If you refuse it will be a lifelong sorrow on a poor little orphan girl, would you, even if she had a dreadful temper? Please say you forgive me, Mrs. Anne clasped her hands together, bowed her head, and waited for the word of judgment. There was no mistaking her sincerity—it breathed in every tone of her voice.
Both Marilla and Mrs. Lynde recognized its unmistakable ring. But the former under-stood in dismay that Anne was actually enjoying her valley of humiliation—was reveling in the thoroughness of her abasement. Where was the wholesome punishment upon which she, Marilla, had plumed herself? Anne had turned it into a species of positive pleasure. Good Mrs. Lynde, not being overburdened with perception, did not see this. She only perceived that Anne had made a very thorough apology and all resentment vanished from her kindly, if somewhat officious, heart.
I guess I was a little too hard on you, anyway. I shall always feel that you are a benefactor. Oh, I could endure anything if I only thought my hair would be a handsome auburn when I grew up. And now may I go out into your garden and sit on that bench under the apple-trees while you and Marilla are talking?
There is so much more scope for imagination out there. And you can pick a bouquet of them white June lilies over in the corner if you like. Yes, she certainly is an odd child, but there is something kind of taking about her after all. She may turn out all right.
On the whole, Marilla, I kind of like her. When Marilla went home Anne came out of the fragrant twilight of the orchard with a sheaf of white narcissi in her hands.
Marilla was dismayed at finding herself inclined to laugh over the recollection. She had also an uneasy feeling that she ought to scold Anne for apologizing so well; but then, that was ridiculous!
She compromised with her conscience by saying severely:. Do you suppose my hair will really be a handsome auburn when I grow up? It makes me feel so sorrowful—just as I feel when I look at any ugly thing. It was lovely of Mrs.
Lynde to give them to me. I have no hard feelings against Mrs. Lynde now. If you could live in a star, which one would you pick?
Anne said no more until they turned into their own lane. A little gypsy wind came down it to meet them, laden with the spicy perfume of young dew-wet ferns. Far up in the shadows a cheerful light gleamed out through the trees from the kitchen at Green Gables. No place ever seemed like home. I could pray right now and not find it a bit hard. Its very unaccustomedness and sweetness disturbed her.
She hastened to restore her sensations to their normal calm by inculcating a moral. And you should never find it hard to say your prayers. W ELL, how do you like them? Anne was standing in the gable room, looking solemnly at three new dresses spread out on the bed.
One was of snuffy colored gingham which Marilla had been tempted to buy from a peddler the preceding summer because it looked so serviceable; one was of black-and-white checkered sateen which she had picked up at a bargain counter in the winter; and one was a stiff print of an ugly blue shade which she had purchased that week at a Carmody store.
She had made them up herself, and they were all made alike—plain skirts fulled tightly to plain waists, with sleeves as plain as waist and skirt and tight as sleeves could be. What is the matter with them?
The brown gingham and the blue print will do you for school when you begin to go. The sateen is for church and Sunday school. Puffed sleeves are so fashionable now. It would give me such a thrill, Marilla, just to wear a dress with puffed sleeves. I think they are ridiculous-looking things anyhow. I prefer the plain, sensible ones. Well, hang those dresses carefully up in your closet, and then sit down and learn the Sunday school lesson.
I got a quarterly from Mr. Well, fortunately I can imagine that one of them is of snow-white muslin with lovely lace frills and three-puffed sleeves. The next morning warnings of a sick headache prevented Marilla from going to Sunday-school with Anne. Now, mind you behave yourself properly. Stay to preaching afterwards and ask Mrs.
Lynde to show you our pew. I shall expect you to tell me the text when you come home. Anne started off irreproachable, arrayed in the stiff black-and-white sateen, which, while decent as regards length and certainly not open to the charge of skimpiness, contrived to emphasize every corner and angle of her thin figure.
Her hat was a little, flat, glossy, new sailor, the extreme plainness of which had likewise much disappointed Anne, who had permitted herself secret visions of ribbon and flowers. The latter, however, were supplied before Anne reached the main road, for being confronted halfway down the lane with a golden frenzy of wind-stirred buttercups and a glory of wild roses, Anne promptly and liberally garlanded her hat with a heavy wreath of them.
Whatever other people might have thought of the result it satisfied Anne, and she tripped gaily down the road, holding her ruddy head with its decoration of pink and yellow very proudly. When she had reached Mrs.
Nothing daunted, Anne proceeded onward to the church alone. In the porch she found a crowd of little girls, all more or less gaily attired in whites and blues and pinks, and all staring with curious eyes at this stranger in their midst, with her extraordinary head adornment.
Avonlea little girls had already heard queer stories about Anne. Lynde said she had an awful temper; Jerry Buote, the hired boy at Green Gables, said she talked all the time to herself or to the trees and flowers like a crazy girl. They looked at her and whispered to each other behind their quarterlies. Miss Rogerson was a middle-aged lady who had taught a Sunday-school class for twenty years. Her method of teaching was to ask the printed questions from the quarterly and look sternly over its edge at the particular little girl she thought ought to answer the question.
She did not think she liked Miss Rogerson, and she felt very miserable; every other little girl in the class had puffed sleeves. Anne felt that life was really not worth living without puffed sleeves. Her wreath having faded, Anne had discarded it in the lane, so Marilla was spared the knowledge of that for a time.
I behaved well, just as you told me. Lynde was gone, but I went right on myself. I went into the church, with a lot of other little girls, and I sat in the corner of a pew by the window while the opening exercises went on. Bell made an awfully long prayer. But it looked right out on the Lake of Shining Waters, so I just gazed at that and imagined all sorts of splendid things. You should have listened to Mr.
I think he thought God was too far off though. Oh, Marilla, it was like a beautiful dream! Well, Mr. There were nine other girls in it. They all had puffed sleeves. It was as easy as could be to imagine they were puffed when I was alone in the east gable, but it was awfully hard there among the others who had really truly puffs. You should have been attending to the lesson. I hope you knew it.
Miss Rogerson asked ever so many. Then all the other little girls recited a paraphrase. She asked me if I knew any. There are two lines in particular that just thrill me. I can hardly wait until next Sunday to recite it. Lynde was too far away—to show me your pew. I sat just as still as I could and the text was Revelations, third chapter, second and third verses. It was a very long text. The sermon was awfully long, too.
I suppose the minister had to match it to the text. I just let my thoughts run and I thought of the most surprising things. It almost seemed to her that those secret, unuttered, critical thoughts had suddenly taken visible and accusing shape and form in the person of this outspoken morsel of neglected humanity. I T was not until the next Friday that Marilla heard the story of the flower-wreathed hat.
She came home from Mrs. Rachel says you went to church last Sunday with your hat rigged out ridiculous with roses and buttercups. What on earth put you up to such a caper? A pretty-looking object you must have been! It was putting flowers on your hat at all, no matter what color they were, that was ridiculous. You are the most aggravating child! Marilla was not to be drawn from the safe concrete into dubious paths of the abstract.
It was very silly of you to do such a thing. Never let me catch you at such a trick again. Rachel says she thought she would sink through the floor when she saw you come in all rigged out like that.
She says people talked about it something dreadful. Of course they would think I had no better sense than to let you go decked out like that. Lots of the little girls had artificial flowers on their hats. But that would be better than being a trial to you. All I want is that you should behave like other little girls and not make yourself ridiculous.
Diana Barry came home this afternoon. Barry, and if you like you can come with me and get acquainted with Diana. Anne rose to her feet, with clasped hands, the tears still glistening on her cheeks; the dish towel she had been hemming slipped unheeded to the floor. It would be the most tragical disappointment of my life.
It sounds so funny in a little girl. If she has heard about your outburst to Mrs. They went over to Orchard Slope by the short cut across the brook and up the firry hill grove. She was a tall black-eyed, black-haired woman, with a very resolute mouth.
She had the reputation of being very strict with her children. And this is the little girl you have adopted, I suppose? Diana was sitting on the sofa, reading a book which she dropped when the callers entered. It will be better for you than straining your eyes over that book.
Outside in the garden, which was full of mellow sunset light streaming through the dark old firs to the west of it, stood Anne and Diana, gazing bashfully at each other over a clump of gorgeous tiger lilies. It was encircled by huge old willows and tall firs, beneath which flourished flowers that loved the shade.
Prim, right-angled paths neatly bordered with clamshells, intersected it like moist red ribbons and in the beds between old-fashioned flowers ran riot. There were rosy bleeding-hearts and great splendid crimson peonies; white, fragrant narcissi and thorny, sweet Scotch roses; pink and blue and white columbines and lilac-tinted Bouncing Bets; clumps of southernwood and ribbon grass and mint; purple Adam-and-Eve, daffodils, and masses of sweet clover white with its delicate, fragrant, feathery sprays; scarlet lightning that shot its fiery lances over prim white musk-flowers; a garden it was where sunshine lingered and bees hummed, and winds, beguiled into loitering, purred and rustled.
It will be jolly to have somebody to play with. It just means vowing and promising solemnly. I solemnly swear to be faithful to my bosom friend, Diana Barry, as long as the sun and moon shall endure. Now you say it and put my name in.
I heard before that you were queer. When Marilla and Anne went home Diana went with them as far as the log bridge. The two little girls walked with their arms about each other. At the brook they parted with many promises to spend the next afternoon together. Diana and I are going to build a playhouse in Mr.
Can I have those broken pieces of china that are out in the woodshed? Diana is going to lend me a book to read. I wish I had soulful eyes.
A sewing-machine agent gave it to her. I wish I had something to give Diana. I read a story once about a spring called that. A dryad is sort of a grown-up fairy, I think. She was sitting there one afternoon in early June when Matthew Cuthbert, the shyest man alive and who hated to have to go among strangers or to any place where he might have to talk, came calmly driving his horse and buggy over the hollow and up the hill.
Rachel stepped out of the lane and into the backyard of Green Gables. She rapped at the kitchen door and stepped in when called out to do so. There sat Marilla Cuthbert knitting, and the table behind her was laid for supper—for three people.
Rachel was almost dizzy with this mystery about quiet, unmysterious Green Gables. Marilla was a tall, thin woman; her dark hair showed some gray streaks and was always twisted up in a hard little knot behind with two hairpins stuck through it.
Matthew went to Bright River, explained Marilla to her friend. Rachel could not have been more astonished. Yes, of course, said Marilla, as if getting boys from orphan asylums in Nova Scotia were part of the usual spring work on any Avonlea farm. Alexander Spencer was up here one day before Christmas and she said she was going to get a little girl from the asylum over in Hopetown in the spring. So Matthew and I have talked it over off and on ever since.
His heart troubles him a good deal. So in the end we decided to ask Mrs. Spencer to pick us out one when she went over to get her little girl. We mean to give him a good home and schooling. Well, Marilla, said Mrs. But Matthew was terribly set on it, so I gave in. I wonder at Mrs. Alexander for doing it. When Mrs. Rachel set out then to spread the news, she said to herself, It seems odd to think of a child at Green Gables.
Matthew Cuthbert enjoyed the drive to Bright River except during the moments when he met women and had to nod to them—on Prince Edward Island you are supposed to nod to everyone you meet on the road whether you know them or not. Matthew dreaded all women except Marilla and Mrs. Rachel; he had an uncomfortable feeling that women were secretly laughing at him.
He may have been right; he was an odd-looking man, with a clumsy manner and long, gray hair that touched his stooping shoulders, and a full, soft brown beard which he had worn ever since he was twenty. When he reached Bright River there was no sign of any train; he thought he was too early. The long platform at the station was almost deserted; the only living creature in sight was a girl who was sitting on a pile of shingles at the far end.
Matthew found the stationmaster locking up the ticket office before going home to supper, and asked him if the five-thirty train would soon be along. The five-thirty train has been in and gone half an hour ago, said the man.
But there was a passenger dropped off for you—a little girl. Upload Sign In Join.The life, trials, tribulations and friendships of Anne Shirley, a red-haired orphan with a fiery temperament who was adopted from an orphanage in Nova Scotia. Her misadventures and yreen abound on Prince Edward Island where she enjoys her early teen years. Begin Reading. Lucy Maud Montgomery View Profile. Rate This Book. Bool 3. Current Rating: 3. Buy This Book Now. Bookies are here! Write your own book. Share your story. Get immediate feedback. Write when you have a few minutes. Add a anne of green gables book read online free, chapter anne of green gables book read online free novel. See the newest Bookies! Start your Bookie now! Read Anne Of Green Gables by author Lucy Maud Montgomery, FREE, online. (Table of Contents.) This book and many more are available. hi i havent started reading this book yet so could someone tell me if its a good sud-ouest-tai-chi-chuan.org i have watched the series on NETFLIX and i loved them.I love how Anne. This book is available for free download in a number of formats - including epub, pdf, azw, mobi and more. You can also read the full text online using our. Read Anne Of Green Gables online by Lucy Maud Montgomery at ReadCentral.com, the free online library full of thousands of classic books. Now you can read. Anne of Green Gables (Fiction, , pages). This title is not Bookshelf. [Add to Shelf] (0 / 10 books on shelf) Anne's Impressions of Sunday-School. Read Anne of Green Gables by L. M. Montgomery with a free trial. Read unlimited* books and audiobooks on the web, iPad, iPhone and Android. Read this book now. “Anne of Green Gables”. An orphan girl's adventures on Prince Edward Island, Canada. Author: Halifax: Ryerson, Download Cover. Book info: Author: L.M. Montgomery Title: Anne of Green Gables Language: en. Series: Anne of Green Gables (1)[|] Original publication date: Anne of Green Gables -- Hypertext and eBooks. Free Online Books · Free eBooks · Bible eBooks. Learn about using eBooks on Sony Reader - iPhone or. Hot Emilys Quest by L. I was mad clear through, and I stayed mad all night. A body could answer back then and argue him into reason. W ELL, how do you like them? She might think I was putting my oar in and I promised not to do that. Book Anne of Ingleside Reading this book after so many years is like visiting a childhood haunt after many years to find only that it was not so big, not so beautiful, not so miraculous, not so mysterious, as it was then. She may turn out all right. When details were exhausted Mrs. What on earth put you up to such a caper? What did that tree, leaning out from the bank, all white and lacy, make you think of? The child was quite transfigured; and, a moment later, when Mrs. But then, I may as well get used to that. There is never enough to go around in an asylum, so things are always skimpy—at least in a poor asylum like ours. You should have listened to Mr.