The Summons

           

           AnnewassittingwithRubyGillisintheGillis’gardenafterthedayhadcreptlingeringlythroughitandwasgone.Ithadbeenawarm,smokysummerafternoon.Theworldwasinasplendorofout-flowering.Theidlevalleyswerefullofhazes.Thewoodwayswereprankedwithshadowsandthefieldswiththepurpleoftheasters.

           AnnehadgivenupamoonlightdrivetotheWhiteSandsbeachthatshemightspendtheeveningwithRuby.Shehadsospentmanyeveningsthatsummer,althoughsheoftenwonderedwhatgooditdidanyone,andsometimeswenthomedecidingthatshecouldnotgoagain.

           Rubygrewpalerasthesummerwaned;theWhiteSandsschoolwasgivenup“herfatherthoughtitbetterthatsheshouldn’tteachtillNewYear’s”andthefancyworkshelovedoftenerandoftenerfellfromhandsgrowntoowearyforit.Butshewasalwaysgay,alwayshopeful,alwayschatteringandwhisperingofherbeaux,andtheirrivalriesanddespairs.ItwasthisthatmadeAnne’svisitshardforher.Whathadoncebeensillyoramusingwasgruesome,now;itwasdeathpeeringthroughawilfulmaskoflife.YetRubyseemedtoclingtoher,andneverlethergountilshehadpromisedtocomeagainsoon.Mrs.LyndegrumbledaboutAnne’sfrequentvisits,anddeclaredshewouldcatchconsumption;evenMarillawasdubious.

           “EverytimeyougotoseeRubyyoucomehomelookingtiredout,”shesaid.

           “It’ssoverysadanddreadful,”saidAnneinalowtone.“Rubydoesn’tseemtorealizeherconditionintheleast.AndyetIsomehowfeelsheneedshelpcravesitandIwanttogiveittoherandcan’t.

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