Chapter XVII
(Extract from letter to Gilbert.)
“School closed today. Two months of Green Gables and dew-wet, spicy ferns ankle-deep along the brook and lazy, dappling shadows in Lover’s Lane and wild strawberries in Mr. Bell’s pasture and the dark loveliness of firs in the Haunted Wood! My very soul has wings.
“Jen Pringle brought me a bouquet of lilies of the valley and wished me a happy vacation. She’s coming down to spend a weekend with me some time. Talk of miracles!
“But little Elizabeth is heartbroken. I wanted her for a visit, too, but Mrs. Campbell did not ‘deem it advisable.’ Luckily, I hadn’t said anything to Elizabeth about it, so she was spared that disappointment.
“‘I believe I’ll be Lizzie all the time you’re away, Miss Shirley,’ she told me. ‘I’ll feel like Lizzie anyway.’
“‘But think of the fun we’ll have when I come back,’ I said. ‘Of course you won’t be Lizzie. There’s no such person as Lizzie in you. And I’ll write you every week, little Elizabeth.’
“‘Oh, Miss Shirley, will you! I’ve never had a letter in my life. Won’t it be fun! And I’ll write you if they’ll let me have a stamp. If they don’t, you’ll know I’m thinking of you just the same. I’ve called the chipmunk in the back yard after you … Shirley. You don’t mind, do you? I thought at first of calling it Anne Shirley … but then I thought that mightn’t be respectful … and, anyway, Anne doesn’t sound chipmunky. Besides, it might be a gentleman chipmunk. Chipmunks are such darling things, aren’t they? But the Woman says they eat the rosebush roots.’
“‘She would!’ I said.
“I asked Katherine Brooke where she was going to spend the summer and she briefly answered, ‘Here. Where did you suppose?’
“I felt as if I ought to ask her to Green Gables, but I just couldn’t. Of course I don’t suppose she’d have come, anyway. And she’s such a kill-joy. She’d spoil everything. But when I think of her alone in that cheap boardinghouse all summer, my conscience gives me unpleasant jabs.
“Dusty Miller brought in a live snake the other day and dropped it on the floor of the kitchen. If Rebecca Dew could have turned pale she would have. ‘This is really the last straw!’ she said. But Rebecca Dew is just a little peevish these days because she has to spend all her spare time picking big gray-green beetles off the rose trees and dropping them in a can of kerosene. She thinks there are entirely too many insects in the world.
“‘It’s just going to be eaten up by them some day,’ she predicts mournfully.
“Nora Nelson is to be married to Jim Wilcox in September. Very quietly … no fuss, no guests, no bridesmaids. Nora told me that was the only way to escape Aunt Mouser, and she will not have Aunt Mouser to see her married. I’m to be present, however, sort of unofficially. Nora says Jim would never have come back if I hadn’t set that light in the window. He was going to sell his store and go west. Well, when I think of all the matches I’m supposed to have made …
“Sally says they’ll fight most of their time but that they’ll be happier fighting with each other than agreeing with anybody else. But I don’t think they’ll fight … much. I think it is just misunderstanding that makes most of the trouble in the world. You and I for so long, now …
“Good night, belovedest. Your sleep will be sweet if there is any influence in the wishes of
“YOUR OWN.
“P.S. The above sentence is quoted verbatim from a letter of Aunt Chatty’s grandmother.”
The Second Year
Chapter I
“Windy Poplars,
“Spook’s Lane,
“September 14th.
“I can hardly reconcile myself to the fact that our beautiful two months are over. They were beautiful, weren’t they, dearest? And now it will be only two years before …
(Several paragraphs omitted.)
“But there has been a good deal of pleasure in coming back to Windy Poplars … to my own private tower and my own special chair and my own lofty bed … and even Dusty Miller basking on the kitchen windowsill.
“The widows were glad to see me and Rebecca Dew said frankly, ‘It’s good to have you back.’ Little Elizabeth felt the same way. We had a rapturous meeting at the green gate.
“‘I was a little afraid you might have got into Tomorrow before me,’ said little Elizabeth.
“‘Isn’t this a lovely evening?’ I said.
“‘Where you are it’s always a lovely evening, Miss Shirley,’ said little Elizabeth.
“Talk of compliments!
“‘How have you put in the summer, darling?’ I asked.
“‘Thinking,’ said little Elizabeth softly, ‘of all the lovely things that will happen in Tomorrow.’
“Then we went up to the tower room and read a story about elephants. Little Elizabeth is very much interested in elephants at present.
“‘There is something bewitching about the very name of elephant, isn’t there?’ she said gravely, holding her chin in her small hands after a fashion she has. ‘I expect to meet lots of elephants in Tomorrow.’
“We put an elephant park in our map of fairyland. It is no use looking superior and disdainful, my Gilbert, as I know you will be looking when you read this. Not a bit of use. The world always will have fairies. It can’t get along without them. And somebody has to supply them.
“It’s rather nice to be back in school, too. Katherine Brooke isn’t any more companionable but my pupils seemed glad to see me and Jen Pringle wants me to help her make the tin halos for the angels’ heads in a Sunday-school concert.
“I think the course of study this year will be much more interesting than last year. Canadian History has been added to the curriculum. I have to give a little ‘lecturette’ tomorrow on the War of 1812. It seems so strange to read over the stories of those old wars … things that can never happen again. I don’t suppose any of us will ever have more than an academic interest in ‘battles long ago.’ It’s impossible to think of Canada ever being at war again. I am so thankful that phase of history is over.
“We are going to reorganize the Dramatic Club at once and canvass every family connected with the school for a subscription. Lewis Allen and I are going to take the Dawlish Road as our territory and canvass it next Saturday afternoon. Lewis will try to kill two birds with one stone, as he is competing for a prize offered by Country Homes for the best photograph of an attractive farmhouse. The prize is twenty-five dollars and that will mean a badly needed new suit and overcoat for Lewis. He worked on a farm all summer and is doing housework and waiting on the table at his boardinghouse again this year. He must hate it, but he never says a word about it. I do like Lewis … he is so plucky and ambitious, with a charming grin in place of a smile. And he really isn’t over-strong. I was afraid last year he would break down. But his summer on the farm seems to