Chapter 7: Try, Try Again
The following weeks saw the true onset of fall. The foliage blazed forth in reds, oranges and yellows, as if reflecting back a summer worth of soaked up sunsets. The breeze became crisp and the children's breath came out in little puffs as they chatted on the walk to school. The people of Avonlea were all busily preparing for winter. Potato harvest had started in earnest, and the boys would catch rides on the potato carts rumbling back and forth along the lanes. The good housekeepers were busy canning, cooking and preserving for the winter months. All seemed to be serene, unless your name was Theodore Phillips, school master. The Avonlea school house had seen a surprising number of odd happenings and pranks, but he couldn't seem to catch anyone at wrongdoing.
Gilbert was passing out the front gate of Blythe Farm one fine Saturday afternoon in October on an errand for his father as a potato wagon lumbered near.
"Gil, hey Gilbert!" Gilbert saw this wagon belonged to Fred's father, and Fred himself was driving the team. Gilbert jogged to the side of the wagon and, with a quick leap, hopped up next to Fred.
"Where you headed?" asked Fred.
"Just up to Blaire's store. One of our harnesses broke and father needs some supplies to repair it," Gilbert replied. He reached in his pocket and pulled out two fresh apple turnovers wrapped in a handkerchief, handing one to Fred.
"Well, you might as well keep me company for a ways," Fred said as he crunched into the flaky crust of his turnover.
"When did your father let you start driving the wagon by yourself?" Gilbert asked, licking apple filling off of his fingers. Although Gilbert would be fourteen in a few weeks, John Blythe had not even considered letting Gilbert drive the team and wagon, though he would dearly love to.
"Today is the first time I get to drive alone. He has been letting me drive on the farm since turnip planting this summer," Fred stuck his chest out proudly. Gilbert knew Fred wanted nothing more in the world than to be a farmer, just as generations of Wright men had before him. Gilbert, also coming from generations of farming men, was less sure. He loved farming, but just didn't feel as set in his future as Fred and Jimmy seemed to be. Gilbert grinned, genuinely proud and happy for his friend, slapped him on the back, and congratulated him on the honor of getting to drive a team alone.
"Hey guess what I found?" There was a merry look on Fred's wide, good humored face that spoke of mischief.
Gilbert lit up in response, "What?"
"I found a pack rat nest in our hay loft. What do you say we give old Phillips a surprise Monday?"
"More like send all of the girls into hysterics! Do you remember Ruby the last time? Just imagine if it was a rat!" Gilbert returned with a crooked grin and faked a sqeal and a swoon. The boys laughed merrily at the memory. One day some weeks previous, Mr. Phillips had opened his desk drawer only to find a rather indignant grey mouse, which scampered out of the desk drawer and through the scholars, causing general hysteria until it was caught by Fred Wright. Ruby Gillis actually had to be carried out of the school house until she could be calmed down. When queried, Jimmy Glover merely suggested it might have wandered in from Mr. Bell's pasture field, seeking warmth. Another day, Mr. Phillips took his chair after lunch only to jump back up yelping; he had sat on a handful of small pine cones on the seat. His pointer was hidden, his chalk broken into unusually small pieces, and when he put his jacket on to head home he found his pockets full of syrup. What was worse, the students, though answering promptly when he whisked through lessons in high dungeon, seemed to have lost all respect for him. Those weeks were the worst of his teaching career. He tried to pinpoint the source of the problem, but could not. This was because it was not the work of a single vigilante, but a well-orchestrated campaign by some half dozen boys, whose valiant commander was Gilbert Blythe assisted by his faithful generals Fred Wright and Jimmy Glover.
At the memory of his successful persecution of the school master, Gilbert laughed until tears came to his eyes.
"Still, Oliver Sloane did take it a bit far," Fred said more seriously. Just the previous day, Oliver had turned in a poor geometry exercise and Mr. Phillips sarcastically asked him if he had listened to the lesson at all or was daydreaming as usual. To which Oliver replied, "The only people daydreaming in this school is you and Prissy Andrews." Oliver received a lashing for sassing the teacher.
"Yes," said Gilbert, "poor taste that. A joke is one thing, but there was no need to bring Prissy into it."
As they neared town, Gilbert stepped off of the wagon waving merrily to his friend and promised a berrying trip on Gilbert's birthday the next weekend.
Gilbert looked around him alertly. He might not ordinarily have volunteered to come into town, but he wasn't missing any opportunities to be in the local congregating places. Gilbert's mind was not only taken up by his mischief and studies. He was still determined to convince Anne Shirley to like him. He made a point of being exceptionally civil when they met, tipping his cap and offering a friendly greeting. He always told her and Miss Marilla Cuthbert "Good morning Miss Cuthert. Good morning Anne" on Sunday at church. Miss Cuthbert always answered amiably, but Anne said not a word. The look on Miss Cuthbert's face made him sure she was aware of Anne's opinion of him, but she didn't quite know what to do about it. Diana even offered her services as a neutral party in negotiating a truce, all to no avail. Anne treated him with an air of freezing scorn. This rankled Gilbert, and eventually he continued his civility out of pure stubbornness that could rival Anne's.
Soon the observant Gilbert began to notice that she was not, perhaps, as indifferent as she liked to pretend. She might sweep by him, her pert little nose with its sprinkling of freckles high in the air, but she seemed rather to expect him to say something just so she could disregard it. There was something in those expressive grey eyes that made him think she enjoyed the novelty of hating him. She wasn't being deceitful. She genuinely believed she disliked him passionately, but she seemed to revel in it, enjoying the process of scorning him entirely too much. He had decided to test his theory at the next opportunity.
Gilbert leaned against the front wall of Blaire's Store, whistling idly with his hands in his pockets, waiting for Mr. Blaire to finish helping a few ladies choosing dress goods. He preferred to stay outside until he could conduct his business. He liked watching people and Avonlea on a Saturday afternoon was second only to church on a Sunday morning for watching people. He waved to several classmates, and tipped his hat politely at several of his mother's lady friends. Then he spied Anne coming up the road, presumably to post a letter she held.
For the past several weeks in such a situation, Gilbert would have stepped away from the wall, tipped his cap politely and said "Good day Anne." To which she would flip her long red braids, stick out her chin and glide past without a further note of acknowledgement. Today however, he kept his stance and his whistle did not falter. He did not so much as make direct eye contact, though it would be impossible for him to miss her presence or vice versa. In his peripheral vision, he saw her spot him and stiffen, ready to rebuff his friendly greeting. As she passed by, she actually paused for a step, almost glancing over her shoulder curiously as him. Quickly she regained herself and passed on to the post office, but not before Gilbert had formed this conclusion. She might genuinely believe she disliked him, hated him even, but it was more for the satisfaction of her own imagination than for any real reason. Perhaps in her mind, having a bitter, lifelong enemy was so much more interesting than just forgiving him immediately. He made up his mind. If Anne needed a foe, a foe he would be. He wouldn't be mean of course (he had already learned that lesson well). Her coldness would no longer bother him because there was a camaraderie even in their antagonism. Gilbert was stubborn, as stubborn as she was. He would find a way to make her forgive him! Gilbert thought he now knew her well enough to realize, someday, in a single act of goodness that reached her heart, he could go from a passionately hated foe to a beloved friend.
So he whistled even more cheerfully, and if truth be told, looked forward to the challenge ahead of him. After all, having earned a victory made the achievement all the sweeter.
Note: Surprise! This chapter came together faster than normal, so you might actually get two this week.
