Аня із Зелених Мезонінів

Chapter XX. A Good Imagination Gone Wrong

           Hegotthatoutofabook,Iknow;butitshowshehassomeimagination.IwasofferedsomeMayflowerstoo,butIrejectedthemwithscorn.Ican’ttellyoutheperson’snamebecauseIhavevowednevertoletitcrossmylips.WemadewreathsoftheMayflowersandputthemonourhats;andwhenthetimecametogohomewemarchedinprocessiondowntheroad,twobytwo,withourbouquetsandwreaths,singing‘MyHomeontheHill.’Oh,itwassothrilling,Marilla.AllMr.SilasSloane’sfolksrushedouttoseeusandeverybodywemetontheroadstoppedandstaredafterus.Wemadearealsensation.”

           “Notmuchwonder!Suchsillydoings!”wasMarilla’sresponse.

           AftertheMayflowerscametheviolets,andVioletValewasempurpledwiththem.Annewalkedthroughitonherwaytoschoolwithreverentstepsandworshipingeyes,asifshetrodonholyground.

           “Somehow,”shetoldDiana,“whenI’mgoingthroughhereIdon’treallycarewhetherGil—whetheranybodygetsaheadofmeinclassornot.ButwhenI’mupinschoolit’salldifferentandIcareasmuchasever.There’ssuchalotofdifferentAnnesinme.IsometimesthinkthatiswhyI’msuchatroublesomeperson.IfIwasjusttheoneAnneitwouldbeeversomuchmorecomfortable,butthenitwouldn’tbehalfsointeresting.”

           OneJuneevening,whentheorchardswerepinkblossomedagain,whenthefrogsweresingingsilverlysweetinthemarshesabouttheheadoftheLakeofShiningWaters,andtheairwasfullofthesavorofcloverfieldsandbalsamicfirwoods,Annewassittingbyhergablewindow.

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