Аня з Авонлеї
XXI. Sweet Miss Lavendar
Ofcourse,itwasfoolishtodoitforimaginaryguests...IknowCharlottatheFourththoughtso,didn’tyou,Charlotta?Butyouseehowwellithasturnedout.Ofcoursetheywouldn’thavebeenwasted,forCharlottatheFourthandIcouldhaveeatenthemthroughtime.Butspongecakeisnotathingthatimproveswithtime.”
Thatwasamerryandmemorablemeal;andwhenitwasovertheyallwentouttothegarden,lyingintheglamorofsunset.
“Idothinkyouhavetheloveliestplacehere,”saidDiana,lookingroundheradmiringly.
“WhydoyoucallitEchoLodge?”askedAnne.
“Charlotta,”saidMissLavendar,“gointothehouseandbringoutthelittletinhornthatishangingovertheclockshelf.”
CharlottatheFourthskippedoffandreturnedwiththehorn.
“Blowit,Charlotta,”commandedMissLavendar.
Charlottaaccordinglyblew,aratherraucous,stridentblast.Therewasmoment’sstillness...andthenfromthewoodsovertherivercameamultitudeoffairyechoes,sweet,elusive,silvery,asifallthe“hornsofelfland”wereblowingagainstthesunset.AnneandDianaexclaimedindelight.
“Nowlaugh,Charlotta...laughloudly.”
Charlotta,whowouldprobablyhaveobeyedifMissLavendarhadtoldhertostandonherhead,climbeduponthestonebenchandlaughedloudandheartily.Backcametheechoes,asifahostofpixypeopleweremimickingherlaughterinthepurplewoodlandsandalongthefir-fringedpoints.
“Peoplealwaysadmiremyechoesverymuch,”saidMissLavendar,asiftheechoeswereherpersonalproperty.“Ilovethemmyself.
