Anne of Avonlea

by L. M. Montgomery

  VIII

  Marilla Adopts Twins

  Mrs. Rachel Lynde was sitting at her kitchen window, knitting a quilt,just as she had been sitting one evening several years previously whenMatthew Cuthbert had driven down over the hill with what Mrs. Rachelcalled "his imported orphan." But that had been in springtime; and thiswas late autumn, and all the woods were leafless and the fields sere andbrown. The sun was just setting with a great deal of purple and goldenpomp behind the dark woods west of Avonlea when a buggy drawn by acomfortable brown nag came down the hill. Mrs. Rachel peered at iteagerly.

  "There's Marilla getting home from the funeral," she said to herhusband, who was lying on the kitchen lounge. Thomas Lynde lay more onthe lounge nowadays than he had been used to do, but Mrs. Rachel, whowas so sharp at noticing anything beyond her own household, had not asyet noticed this. "And she's got the twins with her, . . . yes, there'sDavy leaning over the dashboard grabbing at the pony's tail and Marillajerking him back. Dora's sitting up on the seat as prim as you please.She always looks as if she'd just been starched and ironed. Well, poorMarilla is going to have her hands full this winter and no mistake.Still, I don't see that she could do anything less than take them, underthe circumstances, and she'll have Anne to help her. Anne's tickledto death over the whole business, and she has a real knacky way withchildren, I must say. Dear me, it doesn't seem a day since poor Matthewbrought Anne herself home and everybody laughed at the idea of Marillabringing up a child. And now she has adopted twins. You're never safefrom being surprised till you're dead."

  The fat pony jogged over the bridge in Lynde's Hollow and along theGreen Gables lane. Marilla's face was rather grim. It was ten miles fromEast Grafton and Davy Keith seemed to be possessed with a passion forperpetual motion. It was beyond Marilla's power to make him sit stilland she had been in an agony the whole way lest he fall over the backof the wagon and break his neck, or tumble over the dashboard under thepony's heels. In despair she finally threatened to whip him soundly whenshe got him home. Whereupon Davy climbed into her lap, regardless ofthe reins, flung his chubby arms about her neck and gave her a bear-likehug.

  "I don't believe you mean it," he said, smacking her wrinkled cheekaffectionately. "You don't LOOK like a lady who'd whip a little boy just'cause he couldn't keep still. Didn't you find it awful hard to keepstill when you was only 's old as me?"

  "No, I always kept still when I was told," said Marilla, trying to speaksternly, albeit she felt her heart waxing soft within her under Davy'simpulsive caresses.

  "Well, I s'pose that was 'cause you was a girl," said Davy, squirmingback to his place after another hug. "You WAS a girl once, I s'pose,though it's awful funny to think of it. Dora can sit still . . . but thereain't much fun in it _I_ don't think. Seems to me it must be slow to bea girl. Here, Dora, let me liven you up a bit."

  Davy's method of "livening up" was to grasp Dora's curls in his fingersand give them a tug. Dora shrieked and then cried.

  "How can you be such a naughty boy and your poor mother just laid in hergrave this very day?" demanded Marilla despairingly.

  "But she was glad to die," said Davy confidentially. "I know, 'causeshe told me so. She was awful tired of being sick. We'd a long talk thenight before she died. She told me you was going to take me and Dora forthe winter and I was to be a good boy. I'm going to be good, but can'tyou be good running round just as well as sitting still? And she said Iwas always to be kind to Dora and stand up for her, and I'm going to."

  "Do you call pulling her hair being kind to her?"

  "Well, I ain't going to let anybody else pull it," said Davy, doublingup his fists and frowning. "They'd just better try it. I didn't hurt hermuch . . . she just cried 'cause she's a girl. I'm glad I'm a boy but I'msorry I'm a twin. When Jimmy Sprott's sister conterdicks him he justsays, 'I'm oldern you, so of course I know better,' and that settlesHER. But I can't tell Dora that, and she just goes on thinking diffruntfrom me. You might let me drive the gee-gee for a spell, since I'm aman."

  Altogether, Marilla was a thankful woman when she drove into her ownyard, where the wind of the autumn night was dancing with the brownleaves. Anne was at the gate to meet them and lift the twins out. Dorasubmitted calmly to be kissed, but Davy responded to Anne's welcomewith one of his hearty hugs and the cheerful announcement, "I'm Mr. DavyKeith."

  At the supper table Dora behaved like a little lady, but Davy's mannersleft much to be desired.

  "I'm so hungry I ain't got time to eat p'litely," he said when Marillareproved him. "Dora ain't half as hungry as I am. Look at all theex'cise I took on the road here. That cake's awful nice and plummy. Wehaven't had any cake at home for ever'n ever so long, 'cause mother wastoo sick to make it and Mrs. Sprott said it was as much as she could doto bake our bread for us. And Mrs. Wiggins never puts any plums in HERcakes. Catch her! Can I have another piece?"

  Marilla would have refused but Anne cut a generous second slice.However, she reminded Davy that he ought to say "Thank you" for it. Davymerely grinned at her and took a huge bite. When he had finished theslice he said,

  "If you'll give me ANOTHER piece I'll say thank you for IT."

  "No, you have had plenty of cake," said Marilla in a tone which Anneknew and Davy was to learn to be final.

  Davy winked at Anne, and then, leaning over the table, snatched Dora'sfirst piece of cake, from which she had just taken one dainty littlebite, out of her very fingers and, opening his mouth to the fullestextent, crammed the whole slice in. Dora's lip trembled and Marillawas speechless with horror. Anne promptly exclaimed, with her best"schoolma'am" air,

  "Oh, Davy, gentlemen don't do things like that."

  "I know they don't," said Davy, as soon as he could speak, "but I ain'ta gemplum."

  "But don't you want to be?" said shocked Anne.

  "Course I do. But you can't be a gemplum till you grow up."

  "Oh, indeed you can," Anne hastened to say, thinking she saw a chance tosow good seed betimes. "You can begin to be a gentleman when you are alittle boy. And gentlemen NEVER snatch things from ladies . . . or forgetto say thank you . . . or pull anybody's hair."

  "They don't have much fun, that's a fact," said Davy frankly. "I guessI'll wait till I'm grown up to be one."

  Marilla, with a resigned air, had cut another piece of cake for Dora.She did not feel able to cope with Davy just then. It had been a hardday for her, what with the funeral and the long drive. At that momentshe looked forward to the future with a pessimism that would have donecredit to Eliza Andrews herself.

  The twins were not noticeably alike, although both were fair. Dora hadlong sleek curls that never got out of order. Davy had a crop of fuzzylittle yellow ringlets all over his round head. Dora's hazel eyes weregentle and mild; Davy's were as roguish and dancing as an elf's. Dora'snose was straight, Davy's a positive snub; Dora had a "prunes andprisms" mouth, Davy's was all smiles; and besides, he had a dimplein one cheek and none in the other, which gave him a dear, comical,lopsided look when he laughed. Mirth and mischief lurked in every cornerof his little face.

  "They'd better go to bed," said Marilla, who thought it was the easiestway to dispose of them. "Dora will sleep with me and you can put Davy inthe west gable. You're not afraid to sleep alone, are you, Davy?"

  "No; but I ain't going to bed for ever so long yet," said Davycomfortably.

  "Oh, yes, you are." That was all the much-tried Marilla said, butsomething in her tone squelched even Davy. He trotted obedientlyupstairs with Anne.

  "When I'm grown up the very first thing I'm going to do is stay up ALLnight just to see what it would be like," he told her confidentially.

  In after years Marilla never thought of that first week of the twins'sojourn at Green Gables without a shiver. Not that it really was so muchworse than the weeks that followed it; but it seemed so by reason of itsnovelty. There was seldom a waking minute of any day when Davy was notin mischief or devising it; but his first notable exploit occurred twodays after his arrival, on Sunday morning
. . . a fine, warm day, ashazy and mild as September. Anne dressed him for church while Marillaattended to Dora. Davy at first objected strongly to having his facewashed.

  "Marilla washed it yesterday . . . and Mrs. Wiggins scoured me with hardsoap the day of the funeral. That's enough for one week. I don't see thegood of being so awful clean. It's lots more comfable being dirty."

  "Paul Irving washes his face every day of his own accord," said Anneastutely.

  Davy had been an inmate of Green Gables for little over forty-eighthours; but he already worshipped Anne and hated Paul Irving, whom he hadheard Anne praising enthusiastically the day after his arrival. If PaulIrving washed his face every day, that settled it. He, Davy Keith,would do it too, if it killed him. The same consideration induced himto submit meekly to the other details of his toilet, and he was reallya handsome little lad when all was done. Anne felt an almost maternalpride in him as she led him into the old Cuthbert pew.

  Davy behaved quite well at first, being occupied in casting covertglances at all the small boys within view and wondering which wasPaul Irving. The first two hymns and the Scripture reading passed offuneventfully. Mr. Allan was praying when the sensation came.

  Lauretta White was sitting in front of Davy, her head slightly bentand her fair hair hanging in two long braids, between which a temptingexpanse of white neck showed, encased in a loose lace frill. Laurettawas a fat, placid-looking child of eight, who had conducted herselfirreproachably in church from the very first day her mother carried herthere, an infant of six months.

  Davy thrust his hand into his pocket and produced . . . a caterpillar, afurry, squirming caterpillar. Marilla saw and clutched at him but shewas too late. Davy dropped the caterpillar down Lauretta's neck.

  Right into the middle of Mr. Allan's prayer burst a series of piercingshrieks. The minister stopped appalled and opened his eyes. Every headin the congregation flew up. Lauretta White was dancing up and down inher pew, clutching frantically at the back of her dress.

  "Ow . . . mommer . . . mommer . . . ow . . . take it off . . . ow . . .get it out . . . ow . . . that bad boy put it down my neck . . . ow . . .mommer . . . it's going further down . . . ow . . . ow . . . ow. . . ."

  Mrs. White rose and with a set face carried the hysterical, writhingLauretta out of church. Her shrieks died away in the distance and Mr.Allan proceeded with the service. But everybody felt that it was afailure that day. For the first time in her life Marilla took no noticeof the text and Anne sat with scarlet cheeks of mortification.

  When they got home Marilla put Davy to bed and made him stay there forthe rest of the day. She would not give him any dinner but allowed him aplain tea of bread and milk. Anne carried it to him and sat sorrowfullyby him while he ate it with an unrepentant relish. But Anne's mournfuleyes troubled him.

  "I s'pose," he said reflectively, "that Paul Irving wouldn't havedropped a caterpillar down a girl's neck in church, would he?"

  "Indeed he wouldn't," said Anne sadly.

  "Well, I'm kind of sorry I did it, then," conceded Davy. "But it wassuch a jolly big caterpillar . . . I picked him up on the church stepsjust as we went in. It seemed a pity to waste him. And say, wasn't itfun to hear that girl yell?"

  Tuesday afternoon the Aid Society met at Green Gables. Anne hurried homefrom school, for she knew that Marilla would need all the assistance shecould give. Dora, neat and proper, in her nicely starched white dressand black sash, was sitting with the members of the Aid in the parlor,speaking demurely when spoken to, keeping silence when not, and in everyway comporting herself as a model child. Davy, blissfully dirty, wasmaking mud pies in the barnyard.

  "I told him he might," said Marilla wearily. "I thought it would keephim out of worse mischief. He can only get dirty at that. We'll have ourteas over before we call him to his. Dora can have hers with us, butI would never dare to let Davy sit down at the table with all the Aidshere."

  When Anne went to call the Aids to tea she found that Dora was not inthe parlor. Mrs. Jasper Bell said Davy had come to the front door andcalled her out. A hasty consultation with Marilla in the pantry resultedin a decision to let both children have their teas together later on.

  Tea was half over when the dining room was invaded by a forlorn figure.Marilla and Anne stared in dismay, the Aids in amazement. Could that beDora . . . that sobbing nondescript in a drenched, dripping dress and hairfrom which the water was streaming on Marilla's new coin-spot rug?

  "Dora, what has happened to you?" cried Anne, with a guilty glance atMrs. Jasper Bell, whose family was said to be the only one in the worldin which accidents never occurred.

  "Davy made me walk the pigpen fence," wailed Dora. "I didn't want to buthe called me a fraid-cat. And I fell off into the pigpen and my dressgot all dirty and the pig runned right over me. My dress was just awfulbut Davy said if I'd stand under the pump he'd wash it clean, and I didand he pumped water all over me but my dress ain't a bit cleaner and mypretty sash and shoes is all spoiled."

  Anne did the honors of the table alone for the rest of the meal whileMarilla went upstairs and redressed Dora in her old clothes. Davy wascaught and sent to bed without any supper. Anne went to his room attwilight and talked to him seriously . . . a method in which she had greatfaith, not altogether unjustified by results. She told him she felt verybadly over his conduct.

  "I feel sorry now myself," admitted Davy, "but the trouble is I neverfeel sorry for doing things till after I've did them. Dora wouldn't helpme make pies, cause she was afraid of messing her clo'es and that mademe hopping mad. I s'pose Paul Irving wouldn't have made HIS sister walka pigpen fence if he knew she'd fall in?"

  "No, he would never dream of such a thing. Paul is a perfect littlegentleman."

  Davy screwed his eyes tight shut and seemed to meditate on this for atime. Then he crawled up and put his arms about Anne's neck, snugglinghis flushed little face down on her shoulder.

  "Anne, don't you like me a little bit, even if I ain't a good boy likePaul?"

  "Indeed I do," said Anne sincerely. Somehow, it was impossible to helpliking Davy. "But I'd like you better still if you weren't so naughty."

  "I . . . did something else today," went on Davy in a muffled voice. "I'msorry now but I'm awful scared to tell you. You won't be very cross,will you? And you won't tell Marilla, will you?"

  "I don't know, Davy. Perhaps I ought to tell her. But I think I canpromise you I won't if you promise me that you will never do it again,whatever it is."

  "No, I never will. Anyhow, it's not likely I'd find any more of themthis year. I found this one on the cellar steps."

  "Davy, what is it you've done?"

  "I put a toad in Marilla's bed. You can go and take it out if you like.But say, Anne, wouldn't it be fun to leave it there?"

  "Davy Keith!" Anne sprang from Davy's clinging arms and flew across thehall to Marilla's room. The bed was slightly rumpled. She threw back theblankets in nervous haste and there in very truth was the toad, blinkingat her from under a pillow.

  "How can I carry that awful thing out?" moaned Anne with a shudder. Thefire shovel suggested itself to her and she crept down to get it whileMarilla was busy in the pantry. Anne had her own troubles carrying thattoad downstairs, for it hopped off the shovel three times and once shethought she had lost it in the hall. When she finally deposited it inthe cherry orchard she drew a long breath of relief.

  "If Marilla knew she'd never feel safe getting into bed again in herlife. I'm so glad that little sinner repented in time. There's Dianasignaling to me from her window. I'm glad . . . I really feel the need ofsome diversion, for what with Anthony Pye in school and Davy Keith athome my nerves have had about all they can endure for one day."