Аня із Зелених Мезонінів

Chapter XXVII. Vanity and Vexation of Spirit

           Butplease,Marilla,goawayanddon’tlookatme.I’minthedepthsofdespairandIdon’tcarewhogetsheadinclassorwritesthebestcompositionorsingsintheSunday-schoolchoiranymore.LittlethingslikethatareofnoimportancenowbecauseIdon’tsupposeI’lleverbeabletogoanywhereagain.Mycareerisclosed.Please,Marilla,goawayanddon’tlookatme.”

           “Didanyoneeverhearthelike?”themystifiedMarillawantedtoknow.“AnneShirley,whateveristhematterwithyou?Whathaveyoudone?Getrightupthisminuteandtellme.Thisminute,Isay.Therenow,whatisit?”

           Annehadslidtothefloorindespairingobedience.

           “Lookatmyhair,Marilla,”shewhispered.

           Accordingly,MarillaliftedhercandleandlookedscrutinizinglyatAnne’shair,flowinginheavymassesdownherback.Itcertainlyhadaverystrangeappearance.

           “AnneShirley,whathaveyoudonetoyourhair?Why,it’sgreen!”

           Greenitmightbecalled,ifitwereanyearthlycolor—aqueer,dull,bronzygreen,withstreakshereandthereoftheoriginalredtoheightentheghastlyeffect.NeverinallherlifehadMarillaseenanythingsogrotesqueasAnne’shairatthatmoment.

           “Yes,it’sgreen,”moanedAnne.“Ithoughtnothingcouldbeasbadasredhair.ButnowIknowit’stentimesworsetohavegreenhair.Oh,Marilla,youlittleknowhowutterlywretchedIam.”

           “Ilittleknowhowyougotintothisfix,butImeantofindout,”saidMarilla.“Comerightdowntothekitchen—it’stoocolduphere—andtellmejustwhatyou’vedone.

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