Аня з Авонлеї
XVII. A Chapter of Accidents
ButAnneandDiana,betweentheirdisappointmentandthereactionfromtheirexcitementoftheforenoon,couldneithertalknoreat.Annetriedheroicallytobearherpartintheconversationforthesakeofherguests;butallthesparklehadbeenquenchedinherforthetimebeing,and,inspiteofherlovefortheAllansandMissStacy,shecouldn’thelpthinkinghowniceitwouldbewheneverybodyhadgonehomeandshecouldburyherwearinessanddisappointmentinthepillowsoftheeastgable.
Thereisanoldproverbthatreallyseemsattimestobeinspired...“itneverrainsbutitpours.”Themeasureofthatday’stribulationswasnotyetfull.JustasMr.Allanhadfinishedreturningthankstherearoseastrange,ominoussoundonthestairs,asofsomehard,heavyobjectboundingfromsteptostep,finishingupwithagrandsmashatthebottom.Everybodyranoutintothehall.Annegaveashriekofdismay.
AtthebottomofthestairslayabigpinkconchshellamidthefragmentsofwhathadbeenMissBarry’splatter;andatthetopofthestairskneltaterrifiedDavy,gazingdownwithwide-openeyesatthehavoc.
“Davy,”saidMarillaominously,“didyouthrowthatconchdownONPURPOSE?”
“No,Ineverdid,”whimperedDavy.“Iwasjustkneelinghere,quietasquiet,towatchyoufolksthroughthebannisters,andmyfootstruckthatoldthingandpusheditoff...andI’mawfulhungry...andIdowishyou’dlickafellowandhavedonewithit,insteadofalwayssendinghimupstairstomissallthefun.
