Аня із Зелених Мезонінів

Chapter XIII. The Delights of Anticipation

           Sheisgoingtowearittothepicnic.Oh,IdohopeitwillbefinenextWednesday.Idon’tfeelthatIcouldendurethedisappointmentifanythinghappenedtopreventmefromgettingtothepicnic.IsupposeI’dlivethroughit,butI’mcertainitwouldbealifelongsorrow.Itwouldn’tmatterifIgottoahundredpicnicsinafteryears;theywouldn’tmakeupformissingthisone.They’regoingtohaveboatsontheLakeofShiningWaters—andicecream,asItoldyou.Ihavenevertastedicecream.Dianatriedtoexplainwhatitwaslike,butIguessicecreamisoneofthosethingsthatarebeyondimagination.”

           “Anne,youhavetalkedevenonfortenminutesbytheclock,”saidMarilla.“Now,justforcuriosity’ssake,seeifyoucanholdyourtongueforthesamelengthoftime.”

           Anneheldhertongueasdesired.Butfortherestoftheweekshetalkedpicnicandthoughtpicnicanddreamedpicnic.OnSaturdayitrainedandsheworkedherselfupintosuchafranticstatelestitshouldkeeponraininguntilandoverWednesdaythatMarillamadehersewanextrapatchworksquarebywayofsteadyinghernerves.

           OnSundayAnneconfidedtoMarillaonthewayhomefromchurchthatshegrewactuallycoldalloverwithexcitementwhentheministerannouncedthepicnicfromthepulpit.

           “Suchathrillaswentupanddownmyback,Marilla!Idon’tthinkI’deverreallybelieveduntilthenthattherewashonestlygoingtobeapicnic.Icouldn’thelpfearingI’donlyimaginedit.Butwhenaministersaysathinginthepulpityoujusthavetobelieveit.

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