Chapter IX. A Question of Color
That old nuisance of a Rachel Lynde was here again today, pestering me for a subscription towards buying a carpet for the vestry room, said Mr. Harrison wrathfully. I detest that woman more than anybody I know. She can put a whole sermon, text, comment, and application, into six words, and throw it at you like a brick.
Anne, who was perched on the edge of the veranda, enjoying the charm of a mild west wind blowing across a newly ploughed field on a gray November twilight and piping a quaint little melody among the twisted firs below the garden, turned her dreamy face over her shoulder.
The trouble is, you and Mrs. Lynde dont understand one another, she explained. That is always what is wrong when people dont like each other. I didnt like Mrs. Lynde at first either; but as soon as I came to understand her I learned to.
Mrs. Lynde may be an acquired taste with some folks; but I didnt keep on eating bananas because I was told Id learn to like them if I did, growled Mr. Harrison. And as for understanding her, I understand that she is a confirmed busybody and I told her so.
Oh, that must have hurt her feelings very much, said Anne reproachfully. How could you say such a thing? I said some dreadful things to Mrs. Lynde long ago but it was when I had lost my temper. I couldnt say them deliberately.
It was the truth and I believe in telling the truth to everybody.
But you dont tell the whole truth, objected Anne. You only tell the disagreeable part of the truth. Now, youve told me a dozen times that my hair was red, but youve never once told me that I had a nice nose.
I daresay you know it without any telling, chuckled Mr. Harrison.
I know I have red hair too although its much darker than it used to be so theres no need of telling me that either.
Well, well, Ill try and not mention it again since youre so sensitive. You must excuse me, Anne. Ive got a habit of being outspoken and folks mustnt mind it.
But they cant help minding it. And I dont think its any help that its your habit. What would you think of a person who went about sticking pins and needles into people and saying, Excuse me, you mustnt mind it its just a habit Ive got. Youd think he was crazy, wouldnt you? And as for Mrs. Lynde being a busybody, perhaps she is. But did you tell her she had a very kind heart and always helped the poor, and never said a word when Timothy Cotton stole a crock of butter out of her dairy and told his wife hed bought it from her? Mrs. Cotton cast it up to her the next time they met that it tasted of turnips and Mrs. Lynde just said she was sorry it had turned out so poorly.
I suppose she has some good qualities, conceded Mr. Harrison grudgingly. Most folks have. I have some myself, though you might never suspect it. But anyhow I aint going to give anything to that carpet. Folks are everlasting begging for money here, it seems to me. Hows your project of painting the hall coming on?
Splendidly. We had a meeting of the A.V.I.S. last Friday night and found that we had plenty of money subscribed to paint the hall and shingle the roof too. Most people gave very liberally, Mr. Harrison.
Anne was a sweet-souled lass, but she could instill some venom into innocent italics when occasion required.
What color are you going to have it?
We have decided on a very pretty green. The roof will be dark red, of course. Mr. Roger Pye is going to get the paint in town today.
Whos got the job?
Mr. Joshua Pye of Carmody. He has nearly finished the shingling. We had to give him the contract, for every one of the Pyes and there are four families, you know said they wouldnt give a cent unless Joshua got it. They had subscribed twelve dollars between them and we thought that was too much to lose, although some people think we shouldnt have given in to the Pyes. Mrs. Lynde says they try to run everything.
The main question is will this Joshua do his work well. If he does I dont see that it matters whether his name is Pye or Pudding.
He has the reputation of being a good workman, though they say hes a very peculiar man. He hardly ever talks.
Hes peculiar enough all right then, said Mr. Harrison drily. Or at least, folks here will call him so. I never was much of a talker till I came to Avonlea and then I had to begin in self-defense or Mrs. Lynde would have said I was dumb and started a subscription to have me taught sign language. Youre not going yet, Anne?
I must. I have some sewing to do for Dora this evening. Besides, Davy is probably breaking Marillas heart with some new mischief by this time. This morning the first thing he said was, Where does the dark go, Anne? I want to know. I told him it went around to the other side of the world but after breakfast he declared it didnt that it went down the well. Marilla says she caught him hanging over the well-box four times today, trying to reach down to the dark.
Hes a limb, declared Mr. Harrison. He came over here yesterday and pulled six feathers out of Gingers tail before I could get in from the barn. The poor bird has been moping ever since. Those children must be a sight of trouble to you folks.