Anne of Avonlea

  XVI

  The Substance of Things Hoped For

  "Anne," said Davy appealingly, scrambling up on the shiny,leather-covered sofa in the Green Gables kitchen, where Anne sat,reading a letter, "Anne, I'm AWFUL hungry. You've no idea."

  "I'll get you a piece of bread and butter in a minute," said Anneabsently. Her letter evidently contained some exciting news, for hercheeks were as pink as the roses on the big bush outside, and her eyeswere as starry as only Anne's eyes could be.

  "But I ain't bread and butter hungry," said Davy in a disgusted tone."I'm plum cake hungry."

  "Oh," laughed Anne, laying down her letter and putting her arm aboutDavy to give him a squeeze, "that's a kind of hunger that can be enduredvery comfortably, Davy-boy. You know it's one of Marilla's rules thatyou can't have anything but bread and butter between meals."

  "Well, gimme a piece then . . . please."

  Davy had been at last taught to say "please," but he generally tackedit on as an afterthought. He looked with approval at the generous sliceAnne presently brought to him. "You always put such a nice lot of butteron it, Anne. Marilla spreads it pretty thin. It slips down a lot easierwhen there's plenty of butter."

  The slice "slipped down" with tolerable ease, judging from its rapiddisappearance. Davy slid head first off the sofa, turned a doublesomersault on the rug, and then sat up and announced decidedly,

  "Anne, I've made up my mind about heaven. I don't want to go there."

  "Why not?" asked Anne gravely.

  "Cause heaven is in Simon Fletcher's garret, and I don't like SimonFletcher."

  "Heaven in . . . Simon Fletcher's garret!" gasped Anne, too amazed evento laugh. "Davy Keith, whatever put such an extraordinary idea into yourhead?"

  "Milty Boulter says that's where it is. It was last Sunday in SundaySchool. The lesson was about Elijah and Elisha, and I up and asked MissRogerson where heaven was. Miss Rogerson looked awful offended. She wascross anyhow, because when she'd asked us what Elijah left Elisha whenhe went to heaven Milty Boulter said, 'His old clo'es,' and us fellowsall laughed before we thought. I wish you could think first and dothings afterwards, 'cause then you wouldn't do them. But Milty didn'tmean to be disrespeckful. He just couldn't think of the name of thething. Miss Rogerson said heaven was where God was and I wasn't to askquestions like that. Milty nudged me and said in a whisper, 'Heaven'sin Uncle Simon's garret and I'll esplain about it on the road home.' Sowhen we was coming home he esplained. Milty's a great hand at esplainingthings. Even if he don't know anything about a thing he'll make up a lotof stuff and so you get it esplained all the same. His mother is Mrs.Simon's sister and he went with her to the funeral when his cousin, JaneEllen, died. The minister said she'd gone to heaven, though Milty saysshe was lying right before them in the coffin. But he s'posed theycarried the coffin to the garret afterwards. Well, when Milty and hismother went upstairs after it was all over to get her bonnet he askedher where heaven was that Jane Ellen had gone to, and she pointed rightto the ceiling and said, 'Up there.' Milty knew there wasn't anythingbut the garret over the ceiling, so that's how HE found out. And he'sbeen awful scared to go to his Uncle Simon's ever since."

  Anne took Davy on her knee and did her best to straighten out thistheological tangle also. She was much better fitted for the task thanMarilla, for she remembered her own childhood and had an instinctiveunderstanding of the curious ideas that seven-year-olds sometimes getabout matters that are, of course, very plain and simple to grown uppeople. She had just succeeded in convincing Davy that heaven was NOT inSimon Fletcher's garret when Marilla came in from the garden, where sheand Dora had been picking peas. Dora was an industrious little soul andnever happier than when "helping" in various small tasks suited to herchubby fingers. She fed chickens, picked up chips, wiped dishes, and ranerrands galore. She was neat, faithful and observant; she never hadto be told how to do a thing twice and never forgot any of her littleduties. Davy, on the other hand, was rather heedless and forgetful; buthe had the born knack of winning love, and even yet Anne and Marillaliked him the better.

  While Dora proudly shelled the peas and Davy made boats of the pods,with masts of matches and sails of paper, Anne told Marilla about thewonderful contents of her letter.

  "Oh, Marilla, what do you think? I've had a letter from Priscilla andshe says that Mrs. Morgan is on the Island, and that if it is fineThursday they are going to drive up to Avonlea and will reach here abouttwelve. They will spend the afternoon with us and go to the hotel atWhite Sands in the evening, because some of Mrs. Morgan's Americanfriends are staying there. Oh, Marilla, isn't it wonderful? I can hardlybelieve I'm not dreaming."

  "I daresay Mrs. Morgan is a lot like other people," said Marilla drily,although she did feel a trifle excited herself. Mrs. Morgan was a famouswoman and a visit from her was no commonplace occurrence. "They'll behere to dinner, then?"

  "Yes; and oh, Marilla, may I cook every bit of the dinner myself? I wantto feel that I can do something for the author of 'The Rosebud Garden,'if it is only to cook a dinner for her. You won't mind, will you?"

  "Goodness, I'm not so fond of stewing over a hot fire in July that itwould vex me very much to have someone else do it. You're quite welcometo the job."

  "Oh, thank you," said Anne, as if Marilla had just conferred atremendous favor, "I'll make out the menu this very night."

  "You'd better not try to put on too much style," warned Marilla, alittle alarmed by the high-flown sound of 'menu.' "You'll likely come togrief if you do."

  "Oh, I'm not going to put on any 'style,' if you mean trying to do orhave things we don't usually have on festal occasions," assured Anne."That would be affectation, and, although I know I haven't as much senseand steadiness as a girl of seventeen and a schoolteacher ought to have,I'm not so silly as THAT. But I want to have everything as nice anddainty as possible. Davy-boy, don't leave those peapods on the backstairs . . . someone might slip on them. I'll have a light soup to beginwith . . . you know I can make lovely cream-of-onion soup . . . and thena couple of roast fowls. I'll have the two white roosters. I have realaffection for those roosters and they've been pets ever since the grayhen hatched out just the two of them . . . little balls of yellow down.But I know they would have to be sacrificed sometime, and surely therecouldn't be a worthier occasion than this. But oh, Marilla, _I_ cannotkill them . . . not even for Mrs. Morgan's sake. I'll have to ask JohnHenry Carter to come over and do it for me."

  "I'll do it," volunteered Davy, "if Marilla'll hold them by the legs,'cause I guess it'd take both my hands to manage the axe. It's awfuljolly fun to see them hopping about after their heads are cut off."

  "Then I'll have peas and beans and creamed potatoes and a lettuce salad,for vegetables," resumed Anne, "and for dessert, lemon pie with whippedcream, and coffee and cheese and lady fingers. I'll make the pies andlady fingers tomorrow and do up my white muslin dress. And I must tellDiana tonight, for she'll want to do up hers. Mrs. Morgan's heroinesare nearly always dressed in white muslin, and Diana and I have alwaysresolved that that was what we would wear if we ever met her. It willbe such a delicate compliment, don't you think? Davy, dear, you mustn'tpoke peapods into the cracks of the floor. I must ask Mr. and Mrs. Allanand Miss Stacy to dinner, too, for they're all very anxious to meet Mrs.Morgan. It's so fortunate she's coming while Miss Stacy is here. Davydear, don't sail the peapods in the water bucket . . . go out to thetrough. Oh, I do hope it will be fine Thursday, and I think it will, forUncle Abe said last night when he called at Mr. Harrison's, that it wasgoing to rain most of this week."

  "That's a good sign," agreed Marilla.

  Anne ran across to Orchard Slope that evening to tell the news to Diana,who was also very much excited over it, and they discussed the matter inthe hammock swung under the big willow in the Barry garden.

  "Oh, Anne, mayn't I help you cook the dinner?" implored Diana. "You knowI can make splendid lettuce salad."

  "Indeed you, may" said Anne unselfishly. "And I shall want you to he
lpme decorate too. I mean to have the parlor simply a BOWER of blossoms. . . and the dining table is to be adorned with wild roses. Oh, I dohope everything will go smoothly. Mrs. Morgan's heroines NEVER getinto scrapes or are taken at a disadvantage, and they are always soselfpossessed and such good housekeepers. They seem to be BORN goodhousekeepers. You remember that Gertrude in 'Edgewood Days' kept housefor her father when she was only eight years old. When I was eightyears old I hardly knew how to do a thing except bring up children. Mrs.Morgan must be an authority on girls when she has written so much aboutthem, and I do want her to have a good opinion of us. I've imaginedit all out a dozen different ways . . . what she'll look like, and whatshe'll say, and what I'll say. And I'm so anxious about my nose. Thereare seven freckles on it, as you can see. They came at the A.V.I S.picnic, when I went around in the sun without my hat. I suppose it'sungrateful of me to worry over them, when I should be thankful they'renot spread all over my face as they once were; but I do wish they hadn'tcome . . . all Mrs. Morgan's heroines have such perfect complexions. Ican't recall a freckled one among them."

  "Yours are not very noticeable," comforted Diana. "Try a little lemonjuice on them tonight."

  The next day Anne made her pies and lady fingers, did up her muslindress, and swept and dusted every room in the house . . . a quiteunnecessary proceeding, for Green Gables was, as usual, in the apple pieorder dear to Marilla's heart. But Anne felt that a fleck of dust wouldbe a desecration in a house that was to be honored by a visit fromCharlotte E. Morgan. She even cleaned out the "catch-all" closet underthe stairs, although there was not the remotest possibility of Mrs.Morgan's seeing its interior.

  "But I want to FEEL that it is in perfect order, even if she isn't tosee it," Anne told Marilla. "You know, in her book 'Golden Keys,' shemakes her two heroines Alice and Louisa take for their motto that verseof Longfellow's,

  'In the elder days of art Builders wrought with greatest care Each minute and unseen part, For the gods see everywhere,'

  and so they always kept their cellar stairs scrubbed and never forgotto sweep under the beds. I should have a guilty conscience if I thoughtthis closet was in disorder when Mrs. Morgan was in the house. Eversince we read 'Golden Keys,' last April, Diana and I have taken thatverse for our motto too."

  That night John Henry Carter and Davy between them contrived to executethe two white roosters, and Anne dressed them, the usually distastefultask glorified in her eyes by the destination of the plump birds.

  "I don't like picking fowls," she told Marilla, "but isn't it fortunatewe don't have to put our souls into what our hands may be doing? I'vebeen picking chickens with my hands but in imagination I've been roamingthe Milky Way."

  "I thought you'd scattered more feathers over the floor than usual,"remarked Marilla.

  Then Anne put Davy to bed and made him promise that he would behaveperfectly the next day.

  "If I'm as good as good can be all day tomorrow will you let me be justas bad as I like all the next day?" asked Davy.

  "I couldn't do that," said Anne discreetly, "but I'll take you and Dorafor a row in the flat right to the bottom of the pond, and we'll goashore on the sandhills and have a picnic."

  "It's a bargain," said Davy. "I'll be good, you bet. I meant to go overto Mr. Harrison's and fire peas from my new popgun at Ginger but anotherday'll do as well. I espect it will be just like Sunday, but a picnic atthe shore'll make up for THAT."