Chapter XXXVI
The Gardners'Call
"Here is a letter with an Indian stamp for you, Aunt Jimsie," said Phil."Here are three for Stella, and two for Pris, and a glorious fat one forme from Jo. There's nothing for you, Anne, except a circular."
Nobody noticed Anne's flush as she took the thin letter Phil tossed hercarelessly. But a few minutes later Phil looked up to see a transfiguredAnne.
"Honey, what good thing has happened?"
"The Youth's Friend has accepted a little sketch I sent them a fortnightago," said Anne, trying hard to speak as if she were accustomed tohaving sketches accepted every mail, but not quite succeeding.
"Anne Shirley! How glorious! What was it? When is it to be published?Did they pay you for it?"
"Yes; they've sent a check for ten dollars, and the editor writes thathe would like to see more of my work. Dear man, he shall. It was anold sketch I found in my box. I re-wrote it and sent it in--but I neverreally thought it could be accepted because it had no plot," said Anne,recalling the bitter experience of Averil's Atonement.
"What are you going to do with that ten dollars, Anne? Let's all go uptown and get drunk," suggested Phil.
"I AM going to squander it in a wild soulless revel of some sort,"declared Anne gaily. "At all events it isn't tainted money--like thecheck I got for that horrible Reliable Baking Powder story. I spent ITusefully for clothes and hated them every time I put them on."
"Think of having a real live author at Patty's Place," said Priscilla.
"It's a great responsibility," said Aunt Jamesina solemnly.
"Indeed it is," agreed Pris with equal solemnity. "Authors are kittlecattle. You never know when or how they will break out. Anne may makecopy of us."
"I meant that the ability to write for the Press was a greatresponsibility," said Aunt Jamesina severely, "and I hope Anne realizes,it. My daughter used to write stories before she went to the foreignfield, but now she has turned her attention to higher things. She usedto say her motto was 'Never write a line you would be ashamed to readat your own funeral.' You'd better take that for yours, Anne, if you aregoing to embark in literature. Though, to be sure," added Aunt Jamesinaperplexedly, "Elizabeth always used to laugh when she said it. Shealways laughed so much that I don't know how she ever came to decideon being a missionary. I'm thankful she did--I prayed that shemight--but--I wish she hadn't."
Then Aunt Jamesina wondered why those giddy girls all laughed.
Anne's eyes shone all that day; literary ambitions sprouted and buddedin her brain; their exhilaration accompanied her to Jennie Cooper'swalking party, and not even the sight of Gilbert and Christine, walkingjust ahead of her and Roy, could quite subdue the sparkle of her starryhopes. Nevertheless, she was not so rapt from things of earth as to beunable to notice that Christine's walk was decidedly ungraceful.
"But I suppose Gilbert looks only at her face. So like a man," thoughtAnne scornfully.
"Shall you be home Saturday afternoon?" asked Roy.
"Yes."
"My mother and sisters are coming to call on you," said Roy quietly.
Something went over Anne which might be described as a thrill, but itwas hardly a pleasant one. She had never met any of Roy's family; sherealized the significance of his statement; and it had, somehow, anirrevocableness about it that chilled her.
"I shall be glad to see them," she said flatly; and then wondered if shereally would be glad. She ought to be, of course. But would it not besomething of an ordeal? Gossip had filtered to Anne regarding the lightin which the Gardners viewed the "infatuation" of son and brother. Roymust have brought pressure to bear in the matter of this call. Anneknew she would be weighed in the balance. From the fact that they hadconsented to call she understood that, willingly or unwillingly, theyregarded her as a possible member of their clan.
"I shall just be myself. I shall not TRY to make a good impression,"thought Anne loftily. But she was wondering what dress she would betterwear Saturday afternoon, and if the new style of high hair-dressingwould suit her better than the old; and the walking party was ratherspoiled for her. By night she had decided that she would wear her brownchiffon on Saturday, but would do her hair low.
Friday afternoon none of the girls had classes at Redmond. Stella tookthe opportunity to write a paper for the Philomathic Society, and wassitting at the table in the corner of the living-room with an untidylitter of notes and manuscript on the floor around her. Stella alwaysvowed she never could write anything unless she threw each sheet down asshe completed it. Anne, in her flannel blouse and serge skirt, with herhair rather blown from her windy walk home, was sitting squarely in themiddle of the floor, teasing the Sarah-cat with a wishbone. Joseph andRusty were both curled up in her lap. A warm plummy odor filled thewhole house, for Priscilla was cooking in the kitchen. Presently shecame in, enshrouded in a huge work-apron, with a smudge of flour on hernose, to show Aunt Jamesina the chocolate cake she had just iced.
At this auspicious moment the knocker sounded. Nobody paid any attentionto it save Phil, who sprang up and opened it, expecting a boy with thehat she had bought that morning. On the doorstep stood Mrs. Gardner andher daughters.
Anne scrambled to her feet somehow, emptying two indignant cats out ofher lap as she did so, and mechanically shifting her wishbone from herright hand to her left. Priscilla, who would have had to cross the roomto reach the kitchen door, lost her head, wildly plunged the chocolatecake under a cushion on the inglenook sofa, and dashed upstairs. Stellabegan feverishly gathering up her manuscript. Only Aunt Jamesina andPhil remained normal. Thanks to them, everybody was soon sitting atease, even Anne. Priscilla came down, apronless and smudgeless, Stellareduced her corner to decency, and Phil saved the situation by a streamof ready small talk.
Mrs. Gardner was tall and thin and handsome, exquisitely gowned, cordialwith a cordiality that seemed a trifle forced. Aline Gardner was ayounger edition of her mother, lacking the cordiality. She endeavoredto be nice, but succeeded only in being haughty and patronizing. DorothyGardner was slim and jolly and rather tomboyish. Anne knew she was Roy'sfavorite sister and warmed to her. She would have looked very muchlike Roy if she had had dreamy dark eyes instead of roguish hazel ones.Thanks to her and Phil, the call really went off very well, except fora slight sense of strain in the atmosphere and two rather untowardincidents. Rusty and Joseph, left to themselves, began a game of chase,and sprang madly into Mrs. Gardner's silken lap and out of it in theirwild career. Mrs. Gardner lifted her lorgnette and gazed after theirflying forms as if she had never seen cats before, and Anne, chokingback slightly nervous laughter, apologized as best she could.
"You are fond of cats?" said Mrs. Gardner, with a slight intonation oftolerant wonder.
Anne, despite her affection for Rusty, was not especially fond of cats,but Mrs. Gardner's tone annoyed her. Inconsequently she rememberedthat Mrs. John Blythe was so fond of cats that she kept as many as herhusband would allow.
"They ARE adorable animals, aren't they?" she said wickedly.
"I have never liked cats," said Mrs. Gardner remotely.
"I love them," said Dorothy. "They are so nice and selfish. Dogs areTOO good and unselfish. They make me feel uncomfortable. But cats aregloriously human."
"You have two delightful old china dogs there. May I look at themclosely?" said Aline, crossing the room towards the fireplace andthereby becoming the unconscious cause of the other accident. Picking upMagog, she sat down on the cushion under which was secreted Priscilla'schocolate cake. Priscilla and Anne exchanged agonized glances butcould do nothing. The stately Aline continued to sit on the cushion anddiscuss china dogs until the time of departure.
Dorothy lingered behind a moment to squeeze Anne's hand and whisperimpulsively.
"I KNOW you and I are going to be chums. Oh, Roy has told me all aboutyou. I'm the only one of the family he tells things to, poor boy--nobodyCOULD confide in mamma and Aline, you know. What glorious times yougirls must have here! Won't you let me
come often and have a share inthem?"
"Come as often as you like," Anne responded heartily, thankful that oneof Roy's sisters was likable. She would never like Aline, so much wascertain; and Aline would never like her, though Mrs. Gardner might bewon. Altogether, Anne sighed with relief when the ordeal was over.
"'Of all sad words of tongue or pen The saddest are it might have been,'"
quoted Priscilla tragically, lifting the cushion. "This cake is now whatyou might call a flat failure. And the cushion is likewise ruined. Nevertell me that Friday isn't unlucky."
"People who send word they are coming on Saturday shouldn't come onFriday," said Aunt Jamesina.
"I fancy it was Roy's mistake," said Phil. "That boy isn't reallyresponsible for what he says when he talks to Anne. Where IS Anne?"
Anne had gone upstairs. She felt oddly like crying. But she made herselflaugh instead. Rusty and Joseph had been TOO awful! And Dorothy WAS adear.
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