And every one of them said they liked you splendid, Anne, except Anthony Pye. I must admit he didnt. He said you werent any good, just like all girl teachers. Theres the Pye leaven for you. But never mind.
Im not going to mind, said Anne quietly, and Im going to make Anthony Pye like me yet. Patience and kindness will surely win him.
Well, you can never tell about a Pye, said Mrs. Rachel cautiously. They go by contraries, like dreams, often as not. As for that Donnell woman, shell get no Donnelling from me, I can assure you. The name is Donnell and always has been. The woman is crazy, thats what. She has a pug dog she calls Queenie and it has its meals at the table along with the family, eating off a china plate. Id be afraid of a judgment if I was her. Thomas says Donnell himself is a sensible, hard-working man, but he hadnt much gumption when he picked out a wife, thats what.
Chapter VI
All Sorts and Conditions of Men and women
A September day on Prince Edward Island hills; a crisp wind blowing up over the sand dunes from the sea; a long red road, winding through fields and woods, now looping itself about a corner of thick set spruces, now threading a plantation of young maples with great feathery sheets of ferns beneath them, now dipping down into a hollow where a brook flashed out of the woods and into them again, now basking in open sunshine between ribbons of golden-rod and smoke-blue asters; air athrill with the pipings of myriads of crickets, those glad little pensioners of the summer hills; a plump brown pony ambling along the road; two girls behind him, full to the lips with the simple, priceless joy of youth and life.
Oh, this is a day left over from Eden, isnt it, Diana? and Anne sighed for sheer happiness. The air has magic in it. Look at the purple in the cup of the harvest valley, Diana. And oh, do smell the dying fir! Its coming up from that little sunny hollow where Mr. Eben Wright has been cutting fence poles. Bliss is it on such a day to be alive; but to smell dying fir is very heaven. Thats two thirds Wordsworth and one third Anne Shirley. It doesnt seem possible that there should be dying fir in heaven, does it? And yet it doesnt seem to me that heaven would be quite perfect if you couldnt get a whiff of dead fir as you went through its woods. Perhaps well have the odor there without the death. Yes, I think that will be the way. That delicious aroma must be the souls of the firs and of course it will be just souls in heaven.
Trees havent souls, said practical Diana, but the smell of dead fir is certainly lovely. Im going to make a cushion and fill it with fir needles. Youd better make one too, Anne.
I think I shall and use it for my naps. Id be certain to dream I was a dryad or a woodnymph then. But just this minute Im well content to be Anne Shirley, Avonlea schoolmaam, driving over a road like this on such a sweet, friendly day.
Its a lovely day but we have anything but a lovely task before us, sighed Diana. Why on earth did you offer to canvass this road, Anne? Almost all the cranks in Avonlea live along it, and well probably be treated as if we were begging for ourselves. Its the very worst road of all.
That is why I chose it. Of course Gilbert and Fred would have taken this road if we had asked them. But you see, Diana, I feel myself responsible for the A.V.I.S., since I was the first to suggest it, and it seems to me that I ought to do the most disagreeable things. Im sorry on your account; but you neednt say a word at the cranky places. Ill do all the talking Mrs. Lynde would say I was well able to. Mrs. Lynde doesnt know whether to approve of our enterprise or not. She inclines to, when she remembers that Mr. and Mrs. Allan are in favor of it; but the fact that village improvement societies first originated in the States is a count against it. So she is halting between two opinions and only success will justify us in Mrs. Lyndes eyes. Priscilla is going to write a paper for our next Improvement meeting, and I expect it will be good, for her aunt is such a clever writer and no doubt it runs in the family. I shall never forget the thrill it gave me when I found out that Mrs. Charlotte E. Morgan was Priscillas aunt. It seemed so wonderful that I was a friend of the girl whose aunt wrote Edgewood Days and The Rosebud Garden.
Where does Mrs. Morgan live?
In Toronto. And Priscilla says she is coming to the Island for a visit next summer, and if it is possible Priscilla is going to arrange to have us meet her. That seems almost too good to be true-but its something pleasant to imagine after you go to bed.
The Avonlea Village Improvement Society was an organized fact. Gilbert Blythe was president, Fred Wright vice-president, Anne Shirley secretary, and Diana Barry treasurer. The Improvers, as they were promptly christened, were to meet once a fortnight at the homes of the members. It was admitted that they could not expect to affect many improvements so late in the season; but they meant to plan the next summers campaign, collect and discuss ideas, write and read papers, and, as Anne said, educate the public sentiment generally.
There was some disapproval, of course, and which the Improvers felt much more keenly a good deal of ridicule. Mr. Elisha Wright was reported to have said that a more appropriate name for the organization would be Courting Club. Mrs. Hiram Sloane declared she had heard the Improvers meant to plough up all the roadsides and set them out with geraniums. Mr. Levi Boulter warned his neighbors that the Improvers would insist that everybody pull down his house and rebuild it after plans approved by the society. Mr. James Spencer sent them word that he wished they would kindly shovel down the church hill. Eben Wright told Anne that he wished the Improvers could induce old Josiah Sloane to keep his whiskers trimmed. Mr. Lawrence Bell said he would whitewash his barns if nothing else would please them but he would not hang lace curtains in the cowstable windows. Mr. Major Spencer asked Clifton Sloane, an Improver who drove the milk to the Carmody cheese factory, if it was true that everybody would have to have his milk-stand hand-painted next summer and keep an embroidered centerpiece on it.
In spite of or perhaps, human nature being what it is, because of this, the Society went gamely to work at the only improvement they could hope to bring about that fall. At the second meeting, in the Barry parlor, Oliver Sloane moved that they start a subscription to re-shingle and paint the hall; Julia Bell seconded it, with an uneasy feeling that she was doing something not exactly ladylike. Gilbert put the motion, it was carried unanimously, and Anne gravely recorded it in her minutes. The next thing was to appoint a committee, and Gertie Pye, determined not to let Julia Bell carry off all the laurels, boldly moved that Miss Jane Andrews be chairman of said committee. This motion being also duly seconded and carried, Jane returned the compliment by appointing Gertie on the committee, along with Gilbert, Anne, Diana, and Fred Wright. The committee chose their routes in private conclave. Anne and Diana were told off for the Newbridge road, Gilbert and Fred for the White Sands road, and Jane and Gertie for the Carmody road.
Because, explained Gilbert to Anne, as they walked home together through the Haunted Wood, the Pyes all live along that road and they wont give a cent unless one of themselves canvasses them.
The next Saturday Anne and Diana started out. They drove to the end of the road and canvassed homeward, calling first on the Andrew girls.
If Catherine is alone we may get something, said Diana, but if Eliza is there we wont.
Eliza was there very much so and looked even grimmer than usual. Miss Eliza was one of those people who give you the impression that life is indeed a vale of tears, and that a smile, never to speak of a laugh, is a waste of nervous energy truly reprehensible. The Andrew girls had been girls for fifty odd years and seemed likely to remain girls to the end of their earthly pilgrimage. Catherine, it was said, had not entirely given up hope, but Eliza, who was born a pessimist, had never had any. They lived in a little brown house built in a sunny corner scooped out of Mark Andrews beech woods. Eliza complained that it was terrible hot in summer, but Catherine was wont to say it was lovely and warm in winter.
Eliza was sewing patchwork, not because it was needed but simply as a protest against the frivolous lace Catherine was crocheting. Eliza listened with a frown and Catherine with a smile, as the girls explained their errand. To be sure, whenever Catherine caught Elizas eye she discarded the smile in guilty confusion; but it crept back the next moment.
If I had money to waste, said Eliza grimly, Id burn it up and have the fun of seeing a blaze maybe; but I wouldnt give it to that hall, not a cent. Its no benefit to the settlement just a place for young folks to meet and carry on when theys better be home in their beds.
Oh, Eliza, young folks must have some amusement, protested Catherine.
I dont see the necessity. We didnt gad about to halls and places when we were young, Catherine Andrews. This world is getting worse every day.
I think its getting better, said Catherine firmly.
You think! Miss Elizas voice expressed the utmost contempt. It doesnt signify what you think, Catherine Andrews. Facts is facts.
Well, I always like to look on the bright side, Eliza.
There isnt any bright side.
Oh, indeed there is, cried Anne, who couldnt endure such heresy in silence. Why, there are ever so many bright sides, Miss Andrews. Its really a beautiful world.
You wont have such a high opinion of it when youve lived as long in it as I have, retorted Miss Eliza sourly, and you wont be so enthusiastic about improving it either. How is your mother, Diana? Dear me, but she has failed of late. She looks terrible run down. And how long is it before Marilla expects to be stone blind, Anne?
The doctor thinks her eyes will not get any worse if she is very careful, faltered Anne.
Eliza shook her head.
Doctors always talk like that just to keep people cheered up. I wouldnt have much hope if I was her. Its best to be prepared for the worst.
But oughtnt we be prepared for the best too? pleaded Anne. Its just as likely to happen as the worst.
Not in my experience, and Ive fifty-seven years to set against your sixteen, retorted Eliza. Going, are you? Well, I hope this new society of yours will be able to keep Avonlea from running any further down hill but I havent much hope of it.
Anne and Diana got themselves thankfully out, and drove away as fast as the fat pony could go. As they rounded the curve below the beech wood a plump figure came speeding over Mr. Andrews pasture, waving to them excitedly. It was Catherine Andrews and she was so out of breath that she could hardly speak, but she thrust a couple of quarters into Annes hand.
Thats my contribution to painting the hall, she gasped. Id like to give you a dollar but I dont dare take more from my egg money for Eliza would find it out if I did. Im real interested in your society and I believe youre going to do a lot of good. Im an optimist. I have to be, living with Eliza. I must hurry back before she misses me she thinks Im feeding the hens. I hope youll have good luck canvassing, and dont be cast down over what Eliza said. The world is getting better it certainly is.
The next house was Daniel Blairs.
Now, it all depends on whether his wife is home or not, said Diana, as they jolted along a deep-rutted lane. If she is we wont get a cent. Everybody says Dan Blair doesnt dare have his hair cut without asking her permission; and its certain shes very close, to state it moderately. She says she has to be just before shes generous. But Mrs. Lynde says shes so much before that generosity never catches up with her at all.
Anne related their experience at the Blair place to Marilla that evening.
We tied the horse and then rapped at the kitchen door. Nobody came but the door was open and we could hear somebody in the pantry, going on dreadfully. We couldnt make out the words but Diana says she knows they were swearing by the sound of them. I cant believe that of Mr. Blair, for he is always so quiet and meek; but at least he had great provocation, for Marilla, when that poor man came to the door, red as a beet, with perspiration streaming down his face, he had on one of his wifes big gingham aprons. I cant get this durned thing off, he said, for the strings are tied in a hard knot and I cant bust em, so youll have to excuse me, ladies. We begged him not to mention it and went in and sat down. Mr. Blair sat down too; he twisted the apron around to his back and rolled it up, but he did look so ashamed and worried that I felt sorry for him, and Diana said she feared we had called at an inconvenient time. Oh, not at all, said Mr. Blair, trying to smile you know he is always very polite Im a little busy getting ready to bake a cake as it were. My wife got a telegram today that her sister from Montreal is coming tonight and shes gone to the train to meet her and left orders for me to make a cake for tea. She writ out the recipe and told me what to do but Ive clean forgot half the directions already. And it says, flavor according to taste. What does that mean? How can you tell? And what if my taste doesnt happen to be other peoples taste? Would a tablespoon of vanilla be enough for a small layer cake?
I felt sorrier than ever for the poor man. He didnt seem to be in his proper sphere at all. I had heard of henpecked husbands and now I felt that I saw one. It was on my lips to say, Mr. Blair, if youll give us a subscription for the hall Ill mix up your cake for you. But I suddenly thought it wouldnt be neighborly to drive too sharp a bargain with a fellow creature in distress. So I offered to mix the cake for him without any conditions at all. He just jumped at my offer. He said hed been used to making his own bread before he was married but he feared cake was beyond him, and yet he hated to disappoint his wife. He got me another apron, and Diana beat the eggs and I mixed the cake. Mr. Blair ran about and got us the materials. He had forgotten all about his apron and when he ran it streamed out behind him and Diana said she thought she would die to see it. He said he could bake the cake all right he was used to that and then he asked for our list and he put down four dollars. So you see we were rewarded. But even if he hadnt given a cent Id always feel that we had done a truly Christian act in helping him.
Theodore Whites was the next stopping place. Neither Anne nor Diana had ever been there before, and they had only a very slight acquaintance with Mrs. Theodore, who was not given to hospitality. Should they go to the back or front door? While they held a whispered consultation Mrs. Theodore appeared at the front door with an armful of newspapers. Deliberately she laid them down one by one on the porch floor and the porch steps, and then down the path to the very feet of her mystified callers.
Will you please wipe your feet carefully on the grass and then walk on these papers? she said anxiously. Ive just swept the house all over and I cant have any more dust tracked in. The paths been real muddy since the rain yesterday.