Аня з Авонлеї
III. Mr. Harrison at Home
Lynde?Don’tyoutellmeI’mlikethatoldgossip,”saidMr.Harrisonirritably.“I’mnot...notabit.Whathaveyougotinthatbox?”
“Acake,”saidAnnearchly.InherreliefatMr.Harrison’sunexpectedamiabilityherspiritssoaredupwardfeather-light.“Ibroughtitoverforyou...Ithoughtperhapsyoudidn’thavecakeveryoften.”
“Idon’t,that’safact,andI’mmightyfondofit,too.I’mmuchobligedtoyou.Itlooksgoodontop.Ihopeit’sgoodallthewaythrough.”
“Itis,”saidAnne,gailyconfident.“IhavemadecakesinmytimethatwereNOT,asMrs.Allancouldtellyou,butthisoneisallright.ImadeitfortheImprovementSociety,butIcanmakeanotherforthem.”
“Well,I’lltellyouwhat,miss,youmusthelpmeeatit.I’llputthekettleonandwe’llhaveacupoftea.Howwillthatdo?”
“Willyouletmemakethetea?”saidAnnedubiously.
Mr.Harrisonchuckled.
“Iseeyouhaven’tmuchconfidenceinmyabilitytomaketea.You’rewrong...Icanbrewupasgoodajorumofteaasyoueverdrank.Butgoaheadyourself.FortunatelyitrainedlastSunday,sothere’splentyofcleandishes.”
Annehoppedbrisklyupandwenttowork.Shewashedtheteapotinseveralwatersbeforesheputtheteatosteep.Thenshesweptthestoveandsetthetable,bringingthedishesoutofthepantry.ThestateofthatpantryhorrifiedAnne,butshewiselysaidnothing.Mr.Harrisontoldherwheretofindthebreadandbutterandacanofpeaches.
