Аня з Авонлеї
III. Mr. Harrison at Home
Harrisonassuredherthattherewereenoughinthehousetodoforweeksyet.Shewoulddearlyhavelovedtosweeptheflooralso,butnobroomwasvisibleandshedidnotliketoaskwhereitwasforfeartherewasn’toneatall.
“Youmightrunacrossandtalktomeonceinawhile,”suggestedMr.Harrisonwhenshewasleaving.“‘Tisn’tfarandfolksoughttobeneighborly.I’mkindofinterestedinthatsocietyofyours.Seemstomethere’llbesomefuninit.Whoareyougoingtotacklefirst?”
“WearenotgoingtomeddlewithPEOPLE...itisonlyPLACESwemeantoimprove,”saidAnne,inadignifiedtone.SherathersuspectedthatMr.Harrisonwasmakingfunoftheproject.
WhenshehadgoneMr.Harrisonwatchedherfromthewindow...alithe,girlishshape,trippinglightheartedlyacrossthefieldsinthesunsetafterglow.
“I’macrusty,lonesome,crabbedoldchap,”hesaidaloud,“butthere’ssomethingaboutthatlittlegirlmakesmefeelyoungagain...andit’ssuchapleasantsensationI’dliketohaveitrepeatedonceinawhile.”
“Redheadedsnippet,”croakedGingermockingly.
Mr.Harrisonshookhisfistattheparrot.
“Youornerybird,”hemuttered,“IalmostwishI’dwrungyourneckwhenmybrotherthesailorbroughtyouhome.Willyouneverbedonegettingmeintotrouble?”
AnneranhomeblithelyandrecountedheradventurestoMarilla,whohadbeennotalittlealarmedbyherlongabsenceandwasonthepointofstartingouttolookforher.
“It’saprettygoodworld,afterall,isn’tit,Marilla?”concludedAnnehappily.“Mrs
