Аня з Авонлеї
XIX. Just a Happy Day
“Yes;butifdryadsarefoolishtheymusttaketheconsequences,justasiftheywererealpeople,”saidPaulgravely.“DoyouknowwhatIthinkaboutthenewmoon,teacher?Ithinkitisalittlegoldenboatfullofdreams.”
“Andwhenittipsonacloudsomeofthemspilloutandfallintoyoursleep.”
“Exactly,teacher.Oh,youDOknow.AndIthinkthevioletsarelittlesnipsoftheskythatfelldownwhentheangelscutoutholesforthestarstoshinethrough.Andthebuttercupsaremadeoutofoldsunshine;andIthinkthesweetpeaswillbebutterflieswhentheygotoheaven.Now,teacher,doyouseeanythingsoveryqueeraboutthosethoughts?”
“No,laddiedear,theyarenotqueeratall;theyarestrangeandbeautifulthoughtsforalittleboytothink,andsopeoplewhocouldn’tthinkanythingofthesortthemselves,iftheytriedforahundredyears,thinkthemqueer.Butkeeponthinkingthem,Paul...somedayyouaregoingtobeapoet,Ibelieve.”
WhenAnnereachedhomeshefoundaverydifferenttypeofboyhoodwaitingtobeputtobed.Davywassulky;andwhenAnnehadundressedhimhebouncedintobedandburiedhisfaceinthepillow.
“Davy,youhaveforgottentosayyourprayers,”saidAnnerebukingly.
“No,Ididn’tforget,”saidDavydefiantly,“butIain’tgoingtosaymyprayersanymore.I’mgoingtogiveuptryingtobegood,‘causenomatterhowgoodIamyou’dlikePaulIrvingbetter.SoImightaswellbebadandhavethefunofit.”
“Idon’tlikePaulIrvingBETTER,”saidAnneseriously.“Ilikeyoujustaswell,onlyinadifferentway.
