Аня із Зелених Мезонінів

Chapter XXXI. Where the Brook and River Meet

           Matthew,cominginwithalantern,caughtheratitandgazedatherinsuchconsternationthatMarillahadtolaughthroughhertears.

           “IwasthinkingaboutAnne,”sheexplained.“She’sgottobesuchabiggirl—andshe’llprobablybeawayfromusnextwinter.I’llmissherterrible.”

           “She’llbeabletocomehomeoften,”comfortedMatthew,towhomAnnewasasyetandalwayswouldbethelittle,eagergirlhehadbroughthomefromBrightRiveronthatJuneeveningfouryearsbefore.“ThebranchrailroadwillbebuilttoCarmodybythattime.”

           “Itwon’tbethesamethingashavingherhereallthetime,”sighedMarillagloomily,determinedtoenjoyherluxuryofgriefuncomforted.“Butthere—mencan’tunderstandthesethings!”

           TherewereotherchangesinAnnenolessrealthanthephysicalchange.Foronething,shebecamemuchquieter.Perhapsshethoughtallthemoreanddreamedasmuchasever,butshecertainlytalkedless.Marillanoticedandcommentedonthisalso.

           “Youdon’tchatterhalfasmuchasyouusedto,Anne,norusehalfasmanybigwords.Whathascomeoveryou?”

           Annecoloredandlaughedalittle,asshedroppedherbookandlookeddreamilyoutofthewindow,wherebigfatredbudswereburstingoutonthecreeperinresponsetothelureofthespringsunshine.

           “Idon’tknow—Idon’twanttotalkasmuch,”shesaid,dentingherchinthoughtfullywithherforefinger.“It’snicertothinkdear,prettythoughtsandkeeptheminone’sheart,liketreasures.Idon’tliketohavethemlaughedatorwonderedover.

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