Аня з Авонлеї
XIII. A Golden Picnic
“Becausethepersonwhofirstnamedthemeitherhadnoimaginationatallorelsefartoomuch,”saidAnne,“Oh,girls,lookatthat!”
“That”wasashallowwoodlandpoolinthecenterofalittleopengladewherethepathended.Lateronintheseasonitwouldbedriedupanditsplacefilledwitharankgrowthofferns;butnowitwasaglimmeringplacidsheet,roundasasaucerandclearascrystal.Aringofslenderyoungbirchesencircleditandlittlefernsfringeditsmargin.
“HOWsweet!”saidJane.
“Letusdancearounditlikewood-nymphs,”criedAnne,droppingherbasketandextendingherhands.
ButthedancewasnotasuccessforthegroundwasboggyandJane’srubberscameoff.
“Youcan’tbeawood-nymphifyouhavetowearrubbers,”washerdecision.
“Well,wemustnamethisplacebeforeweleaveit,”saidAnne,yieldingtotheindisputablelogicoffacts.“Everybodysuggestanameandwe’lldrawlots.Diana?”
“BirchPool,”suggestedDianapromptly.
“CrystalLake,”saidJane.
Anne,standingbehindthem,imploredPriscillawithhereyesnottoperpetrateanothersuchnameandPriscillarosetotheoccasionwith“Glimmer-glass.”Anne’sselectionwas“TheFairies’Mirror.”
ThenameswerewrittenonstripsofbirchbarkwithapencilSchoolma’amJaneproducedfromherpocket,andplacedinAnne’shat.ThenPriscillashuthereyesanddrewone.“CrystalLake,”readJanetriumphantly.CrystalLakeitwas,andifAnnethoughtthatchancehadplayedthepoolashabbytrickshedidnotsayso.
