Аня з Авонлеї
XXVII. An Afternoon at the Stone House
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“Yes,I’vebeguntogrowlikepigweedinthenight,asMrs.Lyndesays,”saidPaul,infrankdelightoverthefact.“Grandmasaysit’stheporridgetakingeffectatlast.Perhapsitis.Goodnessknows...”Paulsigheddeeply...“I’veeatenenoughtomakeanyonegrow.Idohope,nowthatI’vebegun,I’llkeepontillI’mastallasfather.Heissixfeet,youknow,MissLavendar.”
Yes,MissLavendardidknow;theflushonherprettycheeksdeepenedalittle;shetookPaul’shandononesideandAnne’sontheotherandwalkedtothehouseinsilence.
“Isitagooddayfortheechoes,MissLavendar?”queriedPaulanxiously.ThedayofhisfirstvisithadbeentoowindyforechoesandPaulhadbeenmuchdisappointed.
“Yes,justthebestkindofaday,”answeredMissLavendar,rousingherselffromherreverie.“Butfirstweareallgoingtohavesomethingtoeat.Iknowyoutwofolksdidn’twalkallthewaybackherethroughthosebeechwoodswithoutgettinghungry,andCharlottatheFourthandIcaneatanyhouroftheday...wehavesuchobligingappetites.Sowe’lljustmakearaidonthepantry.Fortunatelyit’slovelyandfull.IhadapresentimentthatIwasgoingtohavecompanytodayandCharlottatheFourthandIprepared.”
“Ithinkyouareoneofthepeoplewhoalwayshavenicethingsintheirpantry,”declaredPaul.“Grandma’slikethattoo.Butshedoesn’tapproveofsnacksbetweenmeals.Iwonder,”headdedmeditatively,“ifIOUGHTtoeatthemawayfromhomewhenIknowshedoesn’tapprove.
