Аня з Авонлеї
XXV. An Avonlea Scandal
IfIhadhadagardenherelikeHesterGray’sitwouldtakememorethanthirtyyears,eveninheaven,toforgetbeinghomesickforitbyspells.”
“Well,don’tletthetwinshearyoutalkinglikethat,”wasMarilla’sfeebleprotest,asshecarriedherchickenintothehouse.
Annepinnedhernarcissionherhairandwenttothelanegate,whereshestoodforawhilesunningherselfintheJunebrightnessbeforegoingintoattendtoherSaturdaymorningduties.Theworldwasgrowinglovelyagain;oldMotherNaturewasdoingherbesttoremovethetracesofthestorm,and,thoughshewasnottosucceedfullyformanyamoon,shewasreallyaccomplishingwonders.
“IwishIcouldjustbeidlealldaytoday,”Annetoldabluebird,whowassingingandswingingonawillowbough,“butaschoolma’am,whoisalsohelpingtobringuptwins,can’tindulgeinlaziness,birdie.Howsweetyouaresinging,littlebird.YouarejustputtingthefeelingsofmyheartintosongeversomuchbetterthanIcouldmyself.Why,whoiscoming?”
Anexpresswagonwasjoltingupthelane,withtwopeopleonthefrontseatandabigtrunkbehind.WhenitdrewnearAnnerecognizedthedriverasthesonofthestationagentatBrightRiver;buthiscompanionwasastranger...ascrapofawomanwhosprangnimblydownatthegatealmostbeforethehorsecametoastandstill.Shewasaveryprettylittleperson,evidentlynearerfiftythanforty,butwithrosycheeks,sparklingblackeyes,andshiningblackhair,surmountedbyawonderfulbefloweredandbeplumedbonnet.
