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XXIII. Miss Lavendar’s Romance
“Howprettyandhowyoung!It’ssodelightfultobeseventeen,isn’tit?Idoenvyyou,”concludedMissLavendarcandidly.
“Butyouareonlyseventeenatheart,”smiledAnne.
“No,I’mold...orrathermiddle-aged,whichisfarworse,”sighedMissLavendar.“SometimesIcanpretendI’mnot,butatothertimesIrealizeit.AndIcan’treconcilemyselftoitasmostwomenseemto.I’mjustasrebelliousasIwaswhenIdiscoveredmyfirstgrayhair.Now,Anne,don’tlookasifyouweretryingtounderstand.SeventeenCAN’Tunderstand.I’mgoingtopretendrightawaythatIamseventeentoo,andIcandoit,nowthatyou’rehere.Youalwaysbringyouthinyourhandlikeagift.We’regoingtohaveajollyevening.Teafirst...whatdoyouwantfortea?We’llhavewhateveryoulike.Dothinkofsomethingniceandindigestible.”
Thereweresoundsofriotandmirthinthelittlestonehousethatnight.Whatwithcookingandfeastingandmakingcandyandlaughingand“pretending,”itisquitetruethatMissLavendarandAnnecomportedthemselvesinafashionentirelyunsuitedtothedignityofaspinsterofforty-fiveandasedateschoolma’am.Then,whentheyweretired,theysatdownontherugbeforethegrateintheparlor,lightedonlybythesoftfireshineandperfumeddeliciouslybyMissLavendar’sopenrose-jaronthemantel.Thewindhadrisenandwassighingandwailingaroundtheeavesandthesnowwasthuddingsoftlyagainstthewindows,asifahundredstormspritesweretappingforentrance.
