There was a sensation at Green Gables when the letter was received.
"Did you ever hear the like!" Marilla exclaimed; but quietly.
Davy had a worried expression. "S'pose Anne don't come back, Marilla?"
"Of course she will, Davy Keith. Don't be ridiculous," Marilla snapped- but there was something remarkably like extreme distress in her eyes.
Dora sat quietly, but her face was paler than usual, so she almost blended with the white dress she wore. She caught Davy's shoulder as if to reassure him, but she gripped hard, digging into him. "Ow!" Davy screamed, and Dora withdrew her hand with more vigour than was necessary.
"It's good Mrs. Lynde is out," Dora whispered.
"Why would it be good I'm out?" Mrs Lynde asked. Of course, trust it to Mrs Lynde to be in the wrong place in the wrong time, and have ears fit for a bat into the bargain.
Dora slipped off her chair and stepped out of the room.
"Will nobody tell me what is going on?" Mrs. Lynde demanded loudly.
Davy shoved his knuckles into his eyes and howled. He fled the room, bumping Marilla and making her drop the letter. Mrs. Lynde picked it up and began to read. "Lawful heart!" she began, but Marilla did not stay for her tirade. She went from the kitchen fast as she could without running. She went up the stairs two at a time (a thing the dignified Marilla Cuthbert had never done before and which mortified her when she was calmer) and almost leapt through her door; thereupon she flung herself into bed and proceeded to cry stormily into her pillow. It didn't seem like the Anne she knew; this Anne saw herself as someone weak and powerless, and seemed so broken, and unable to stick to a task- it didn't seem right. It wasn't right, it wasn't, it wasn't!
Mrs. Lynde came upstairs in due time; but upon seeing Marilla convulsed with sobs in the bed, she drew away. Even Mrs. Rachel Lynde had a slight twinge of tact in her personality, and it came into play then; very thankfully, for Marilla would never have forgiven Mrs. Lynde for barging in on her in such a state.
Mrs. Lynde cooked that night; but she muttered all the while as she mashed turnips, and she was in such a state of mind that she forgot to take the bacon out of the oven, and so the highlight of the meagre meal was black and ashy when she thought of it. Davy, overcome with grief at the idea of Anne never coming home, could do nothing but stab his fork into the mashed turnip and beetroot. Even the promise of chocolate biscuits wasn't enough to make him eat.
Dora ate well; but she was very quiet, even for her, and soon after eating Davy's mashed turnip, she asked Mrs. Lynde in a strange voice if she could leave the table, please, but she had barely pushed back her chair before she was sick all over the food and the tablecloth.
As for Marilla, she didn't come down for the rest of the day.H