Аня з острова Принца Едуарда

Gilbert Speaks

           Iwasawakeuntilonelastnight,readingaharrowingghoststory.Ireaditinbed,andafterIhadfinisheditdoyousupposeIcouldgetoutofbedtoputthelightout?No!AndifStellahadnotfortunatelycomeinlatethatlampwouldhaveburnedgoodandbrighttillmorning.WhenIheardStellaIcalledherin,explainedmypredicament,andgothertoputoutthelight.IfIhadgotoutmyselftodoitIknewsomethingwouldgrabmebythefeetwhenIwasgettinginagain.Bytheway,Anne,hasAuntJamesinadecidedwhattodothissummer?”

           “Yes,she’sgoingtostayhere.Iknowshe’sdoingitforthesakeofthoseblessedcats,althoughshesaysit’stoomuchtroubletoopenherownhouse,andshehatesvisiting.”

           “Whatareyoureading?”

           “Pickwick.”

           “That’sabookthatalwaysmakesmehungry,”saidPhil.“There’ssomuchgoodeatinginit.Thecharactersseemalwaystoberevelingonhamandeggsandmilkpunch.IgenerallygoonacupboardrummageafterreadingPickwick.ThemerethoughtremindsmethatI’mstarving.Isthereanytidbitinthepantry,QueenAnne?”

           “Imadealemonpiethismorning.Youmayhaveapieceofit.”

           PhildashedouttothepantryandAnnebetookherselftotheorchardincompanywithRusty.Itwasamoist,pleasantly-odorousnightinearlyspring.Thesnowwasnotquiteallgonefromthepark;alittledingybankofityetlayunderthepinesoftheharborroad,screenedfromtheinfluenceofAprilsuns.Itkepttheharborroadmuddy,andchilledtheeveningair.

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