CHAPTER XXIII. Anne Comes to Grief in an Affair of Honor
|ANNE had to live through more than two weeks, as it happened. Almost amonth having elapsed since the liniment cake episode, it was high timefor her to get into fresh trouble of some sort, little mistakes, such asabsentmindedly emptying a pan of skim milk into a basket of yarn ballsin the pantry instead of into the pigs' bucket, and walking clean overthe edge of the log bridge into the brook while wrapped in imaginativereverie, not really being worth counting.
A week after the tea at the manse Diana Barry gave a party.
Small and select, Anne assured Marilla. Just the girls in our class.
They had a very good time and nothing untoward happened until after tea,when they found themselves in the Barry garden, a little tired of alltheir games and ripe for any enticing form of mischief which mightpresent itself. This presently took the form of daring.
Daring was the fashionable amusement among the Avonlea small fry justthen. It had begun among the boys, but soon spread to the girls, and allthe silly things that were done in Avonlea that summer because the doersthereof were dared to do them would fill a book by themselves.
First of all Carrie Sloane dared Ruby Gillis to climb to a certain pointin the huge old willow tree before the front door; which Ruby Gillis,albeit in mortal dread of the fat green caterpillars with which saidtree was infested and with the fear of her mother before her eyes if sheshould tear her new muslin dress, nimbly did, to the discomfiture of theaforesaid Carrie Sloane. Then Josie Pye dared Jane Andrews to hop on herleft leg around the garden without stopping once or putting her rightfoot to the ground; which Jane Andrews gamely tried to do, but gave outat the third corner and had to confess herself defeated.
Josie's triumph being rather more pronounced than good taste permitted,Anne Shirley dared her to walk along the top of the board fence whichbounded the garden to the east. Now, to walk board fences requiresmore skill and steadiness of head and heel than one might suppose whohas never tried it. But Josie Pye, if deficient in some qualitiesthat make for popularity, had at least a natural and inborn gift, dulycultivated, for walking board fences. Josie walked the Barry fence withan airy unconcern which seemed to imply that a little thing like thatwasn't worth a dare. Reluctant admiration greeted her exploit, formost of the other girls could appreciate it, having suffered many thingsthemselves in their efforts to walk fences. Josie descended from herperch, flushed with victory, and darted a defiant glance at Anne.
Anne tossed her red braids.
I don't think it's such a very wonderful thing to walk a little, low,board fence, she said. I knew a girl in Marysville who could walk theridgepole of a roof.
I don't believe it, said Josie flatly. I don't believe anybody couldwalk a ridgepole. _You_ couldn't, anyhow.
Couldn't I? cried Anne rashly.
Then I dare you to do it, said Josie defiantly. I dare you to climbup there and walk the ridgepole of Mr. Barry's kitchen roof.
Anne turned pale, but there was clearly only one thing to be done. Shewalked toward the house, where a ladder was leaning against the kitchenroof. All the fifth-class girls said, Oh! partly in excitement, partlyin dismay.
Don't you do it, Anne, entreated Diana. You'll fall off and bekilled. Never mind Josie Pye. It isn't fair to dare anybody to doanything so dangerous.
I must do it. My honor is at stake, said Anne solemnly. I shall walkthat ridgepole, Diana, or perish in the attempt. If I am killed you areto have my pearl bead ring.
Anne climbed the ladder amid breathless silence, gained the ridgepole,balanced herself uprightly on that precarious footing, and started towalk along it, dizzily conscious that she was uncomfortably high upin the world and that walking ridgepoles was not a thing in which yourimagination helped you out much. Nevertheless, she managed to takeseveral steps before the catastrophe came. Then she swayed, lost herbalance, stumbled, staggered, and fell, sliding down over the sun-bakedroof and crashing off it through the tangle of Virginia creeperbeneath--all before the dismayed circle below could give a simultaneous,terrified shriek.
If Anne had tumbled off the roof on the side up which she had ascendedDiana would probably have fallen heir to the pearl bead ring then andthere. Fortunately she fell on the other side, where the roof extendeddown over the porch so nearly to the ground that a fall therefrom wasa much less serious thing. Nevertheless, when Diana and the othergirls had rushed frantically around the house--except Ruby Gillis, whoremained as if rooted to the ground and went into hysterics--they foundAnne lying all white and limp among the wreck and ruin of the Virginiacreeper.
Anne, are you killed? shrieked Diana, throwing herself on her kneesbeside her friend. Oh, Anne, dear Anne, speak just one word to me andtell me if you're killed.
To the immense relief of all the girls, and especially of Josie Pye,who, in spite of lack of imagination, had been seized with horriblevisions of a future branded as the girl who was the cause of AnneShirley's early and tragic death, Anne sat dizzily up and answereduncertainly:
No, Diana, I am not killed, but I think I am rendered unconscious.
Where? sobbed Carrie Sloane. Oh, where, Anne? Before Anne couldanswer Mrs. Barry appeared on the scene. At sight of her Anne tried toscramble to her feet, but sank back again with a sharp little cry ofpain.
What's the matter? Where have you hurt yourself? demanded Mrs. Barry.
My ankle, gasped Anne. Oh, Diana, please find your father and ask himto take me home. I know I can never walk there. And I'm sure I couldn'thop so far on one foot when Jane couldn't even hop around the garden.
Marilla was out in the orchard picking a panful of summer apples whenshe saw Mr. Barry coming over the log bridge and up the slope, with Mrs.Barry beside him and a whole procession of little girls trailing afterhim. In his arms he carried Anne, whose head lay limply against hisshoulder.
At that moment Marilla had a revelation. In the sudden stab of fear thatpierced her very heart she realized what Anne had come to mean to her.She would have admitted that she liked Anne--nay, that she was very fondof Anne. But now she knew as she hurried wildly down the slope that Annewas dearer to her than anything else on earth.
Mr. Barry, what has happened to her? she gasped, more white and shakenthan the self-contained, sensible Marilla had been for many years.
Anne herself answered, lifting her head.
Don't be very frightened, Marilla. I was walking the ridgepole and Ifell off. I expect I have sprained my ankle. But, Marilla, I might havebroken my neck. Let us look on the bright side of things.
I might have known you'd go and do something of the sort when I let yougo to that party, said Marilla, sharp and shrewish in her very relief.Bring her in here, Mr. Barry, and lay her on the sofa. Mercy me, thechild has gone and fainted!
It was quite true. Overcome by the pain of her injury, Anne had one moreof her wishes granted to her. She had fainted dead away.
Matthew, hastily summoned from the harvest field, was straightwaydispatched for the doctor, who in due time came, to discover that theinjury was more serious than they had supposed. Anne's ankle was broken.
That night, when Marilla went up to the east gable, where a white-facedgirl was lying, a plaintive voice greeted her from the bed.
Aren't you very sorry for me, Marilla?
It was your own fault, said Marilla, twitching down the blind andlighting a lamp.
And that is just why you should be sorry for me, said Anne, becausethe thought that it is all my own fault is what makes it so hard. If Icould blame it on anybody I would feel so much better. But what wouldyou have done, Marilla, if you had been dared to walk a ridgepole?
I'd have stayed on good firm ground and let them dare away. Suchabsurdity! said Marilla.
Anne sighed.
But you have such strength of mind, Marilla. I haven't. I just feltthat I couldn't bear Josie Pye's scorn. She would have crowed over meall my life. And I think I have been punished so much that you needn'tbe very cross with me, Marilla. It's not a bit nice to faint, after all.And the doctor hurt me dreadfully when he was setting my ankle. I won'tbe able to go around for six or seven weeks and I'll miss the new ladyteacher. She won't be new any more by the time I'm able to go to school.And Gil--everybody will get ahead of me in class. Oh, I am an afflictedmortal. But I'll try to bear it all bravely if only you won't be crosswith me, Marilla.
There, there, I'm not cross, said Marilla. You're an unlucky child,there's no doubt about that; but as you say, you'll have the sufferingof it. Here now, try and eat some supper.
Isn't it fortunate I've got such an imagination? said Anne. It willhelp me through splendidly, I expect. What do people who haven't anyimagination do when they break their bones, do you suppose, Marilla?
Anne had good reason to bless her imagination many a time and oft duringthe tedious seven weeks that followed. But she was not solely dependenton it. She had many visitors and not a day passed without one or more ofthe schoolgirls dropping in to bring her flowers and books and tell herall the happenings in the juvenile world of Avonlea.
Everybody has been so good and kind, Marilla, sighed Anne happily,on the day when she could first limp across the floor. It isn't verypleasant to be laid up; but there is a bright side to it, Marilla. Youfind out how many friends you have. Why, even Superintendent Bell cameto see me, and he's really a very fine man. Not a kindred spirit, ofcourse; but still I like him and I'm awfully sorry I ever criticized hisprayers. I believe now he really does mean them, only he has got intothe habit of saying them as if he didn't. He could get over that if he'dtake a little trouble. I gave him a good broad hint. I told him how hardI tried to make my own little private prayers interesting. He told meall about the time he broke his ankle when he was a boy. It does seemso strange to think of Superintendent Bell ever being a boy. Even myimagination has its limits, for I can't imagine _that_. When I try toimagine him as a boy I see him with gray whiskers and spectacles, justas he looks in Sunday school, only small. Now, it's so easy to imagineMrs. Allan as a little girl. Mrs. Allan has been to see me fourteentimes. Isn't that something to be proud of, Marilla? When a minister'swife has so many claims on her time! She is such a cheerful person tohave visit you, too. She never tells you it's your own fault and shehopes you'll be a better girl on account of it. Mrs. Lynde always toldme that when she came to see me; and she said it in a kind of way thatmade me feel she might hope I'd be a better girl but didn't reallybelieve I would. Even Josie Pye came to see me. I received her aspolitely as I could, because I think she was sorry she dared me to walka ridgepole. If I had been killed she would had to carry a dark burdenof remorse all her life. Diana has been a faithful friend. She's beenover every day to cheer my lonely pillow. But oh, I shall be so gladwhen I can go to school for I've heard such exciting things about thenew teacher. The girls all think she is perfectly sweet. Diana says shehas the loveliest fair curly hair and such fascinating eyes. She dressesbeautifully, and her sleeve puffs are bigger than anybody else's inAvonlea. Every other Friday afternoon she has recitations and everybodyhas to say a piece or take part in a dialogue. Oh, it's just glorious tothink of it. Josie Pye says she hates it but that is just because Josiehas so little imagination. Diana and Ruby Gillis and Jane Andrews arepreparing a dialogue, called 'A Morning Visit,' for next Friday. And theFriday afternoons they don't have recitations Miss Stacy takes themall to the woods for a 'field' day and they study ferns and flowersand birds. And they have physical culture exercises every morning andevening. Mrs. Lynde says she never heard of such goings on and it allcomes of having a lady teacher. But I think it must be splendid and Ibelieve I shall find that Miss Stacy is a kindred spirit.
There's one thing plain to be seen, Anne, said Marilla, and that isthat your fall off the Barry roof hasn't injured your tongue at all.