After her first day teaching Anne arrives at Green Gables to a curious sight. Martin is ironing. It should be comical seeing a man in denim overalls and stocking feet working the sad-iron over her frilly pillowcase. Instead Anne is filled with a quick, cold dread. She had been reliving the day's triumphs and tragedies as she walked home and is bursting to share them with Marilla. To come into the kitchen and find the hired man doing the laundry... something must be gravely wrong.

'Clever thing these contraptions,' Martin says by way of greeting. 'This here handle is detachable so's you don't burn your hand when you're heating the iron.'

'A woman invented it,' Anne says, sounding very much the schoolmarm. Well, what did he mean by telling her about her iron as though she'd never used one before? More to the point where was Marilla? She asks him, crisply.

'In the parlour,' Martin says, plunging the hot end of a poker into the long, round-ended cylinder of a goffering iron and spitting on it.

Anne cheeks go red as she remembers a particularly unschoolmarmish joke Ruby makes about this iron's similarity to a certain part of the male anatomy, and hurries out of the kitchen relieved that she never had to teach Gilbert how to use one. She finds Marilla setting out the rosebud tea-set upon the table where the Minister and other esteemed visitors take their tea.

'Oh, Marilla, you don't have to go to such trouble for me-'

Marilla smiles one of her crinkly smiles. 'This isn't for you, this is for the new Avonlea school mistress,' she quips. 'Now why don't you make yourself useful and fetch the plum preserves, I'm expecting her any minute now.'

Anne runs into her welcoming arms and nestles against her shoulder. 'You know I heard she prefers peaches,' she murmurs, her lips coming up against the cool feel of a pearl fixed to Marilla's earlobe. Marilla is wearing jewelry! Anne knows enough not to mention to this and sits down before leaping up for the peach preserves. As she reaches the door she turns and says, 'Shall I fetch Martin, too?'

Marilla straightens the cake fork, the smile in her voice evident as she says that Martin is getting his own. Anne is scraping the last of the peaches from the dish and adding another dollop of cream before she dares ask how he came to be doing the laundry.

'He did no such thing,' says Marilla from behind her teacup. 'I was running behind this afternoon and he offered to finish up some of the smaller linens while I set the table.'

'That was very thoughtful of him,' Anne says, carefully. 'Resourceful too.'

'His wife died when the twins were seven, there was no way for him to afford extra help so he had to learn to do for himself-'

'Twins? I thought he only had a daughter. She went to the school in Carmody, didn't she?' Anne asks, ashamed to realise she never learned the Rossi girl's name.

'Yes, that's Dora. Her brother's Davy and a right tearaway. He ran away at thirteen and broke his father's heart. But Dora's as steady as they come. She's been running the Rossi house since she was ten.'

A bittersweet feeling of fellowship strikes Anne's heart. When she was that age she was forced to forgo school in order to take care of the Hammond children. After number eight was born Anne had asked Mrs Hammond why the stork kept bringing her babies when she detested them so much? That had earned her a night in the hen house nursing an ear so sore she couldn't hear out of it for a week. Martin Rossi hardly seemed capable of that. Anne used to think he wasn't capable of much. It didn't matter how often she told him how to do something he would ask her the same thing the very next day. His thoughts and his actions seemed as dull and grey as the shapeless felt hat he was never seen without. Why did he dress like an old man, he couldn't be more than fifty? Anne laughs then because one of her pupils had asked her a similar question.

'What are you giggling over now?' says Marilla.

'I was remembering something Anthony Pye said this morning. We were sitting in a circle on the school field playing What do you wish you knew?-' Marilla sniffs to show she doesn't think much of such teaching methods. 'Each child was trying to outdo the next,' Anne continues. 'Jean-Louise wanted to know what sort of cheese the moon was made of, Martha Wright wondered what number came after infinity, even the Minister's son screwed up the courage to ask if it was possible for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle? Don't roll your eyes, it was asked with perfect earnestness and only confirmed why I decided to begin the game in the first place. I used to be brimming with so many whys and there was no one to ask, at least no one I dared ask. I want to encourage the childrens' curiosity, make them hungry to learn about the world-'

'You'll make them impudent is what you'll do. You can be sure they were all on best manners today, but what will you do a month from now when they start asking you things they'd be better asking their parents or their parson?'

'You're too wise for me, dear Marilla. It already happened. Anthony wanted to know why I went about dressed like a dried up old widow, and why I don't dye my hair black too?' Jean-Louise informed the circle that Miss Shirley didn't dye her hair because red hair was ugly and people in mourning had to dress ugly. Then one of the infants wanted to know why it was called mourning dress when you had to wear black and shouldn't it be night dress? Of course this set the older children off; imagine Miss Shirley turning up for lessons in her nightgown! Anne chalked it up to experience, but there were triumphs too, and these she relayed with relish. 'Immediately after lunch bell the older children took their seats and the little ones copied them. So I ducked my head though the door and asked them why they were in such a hurry to be indoors on such a glorious day?'

'You're making a rod for your own back, what will you say on the next glorious day when you want them all in their seats?'

'But that's the point of an outdoor school-'

'Oh this outdoor school thing of yours. Newfangled nonsense, it will never take.'

'You keep saying that but you haven't given it a chance. And,' Anne adds, her grey eyes widening saucily, 'you've never yet found an argument against my belief that children have enormous capacities to learn and recall when you teach them in ways that inspire them. Why is it-' she continues over Marilla's loud hurumph, 'that a child of five can recite the rules to the most complicated game, calculate how many lemon drops they need to barter for ten marbles, name the parts of a horse, a buggy, the direction of the wind, remember all the words to a bawdy song that is ten verses long, yet is considered a dunce when he can't write his name in perfect copperplate?'

'Perfect copperplate is useful, the ability to sing Roll Me Over in the Clover is not!' Anne is brought up short by this and her eyes go wider still. Marilla clicks her tongue and pours another cup of tea. 'I wasn't always a middle aged spinster, Miss Shirley, I have heard such songs before.'

'It never occurred to me,' Anne says, truthfully. She hides her flaming cheeks behind her napkin, vainly trying to remember what it was she had been talking about because right now all she can think of is Ruby's face snickering over the goffering iron.

'I believe you were singing the praises of the outdoor school,' says Marilla, straining to contain her smile.

Anne clears her throat and sits taller. 'I've already made some converts,' she says. 'I had Mrs Wilbur White and Mrs Frame come to me after class to congratulate me for the fact that both their sons couldn't wait to go to school tomorrow. Mrs Daniel Sloane wasn't so enthusiastic at first, she said Lily-Aurelia informed her they had been larking about the graveyard all day and hadn't done a lick of work. Then I called Lily over and asked her to please spell perennial, and not only did she manage it, she informed her mother that stinging nettle was a perennial and that it's latin name was rumex. Actually it's urtica dioica but fortunately Mrs Daniel didn't know that. She just beamed as though her daughter had construed one hundred lines of Virgil and wished me well!'

'What on earth were you all doing in the graveyard?' Marilla demands to know.

And she isn't the only one. Josie Pye appears after supper, her embroidered shawl tugged tight around her shoulders in the manner of her mother when she has a piece of her mind to inflict.

Anne slams her Art History book shut and places it on the porch step. 'Josie.'

'Anne.'

Anne remains sitting and stares up at the other girl as she twirls her parasol.

'Aren't you going to invite me in?'

'Did you want to come in?'

'No I do not!' says Josie in grand fashion. 'I've just left Diana Barry in tears after what you've done today-'

Anne leaps to her feet. 'What's wrong with Diana?'

'As if you didn't know. You always have to make everything about you, but I never thought you stoop so low as to do such a thing to your bosom friend!'

'Josie if you don't start making sense and tell me what's happened I'll -I'll-' Anne's eyes fall on the great tome next to her and her hands ball into fists.

'What are you planning to do now, Anne, whack me over the head? That's your answer to everything-'

'And yours is to stick a ribbon on people, and yank it like a chain.'

Josie is very tempted to turn heel and leave. Then she pictures Diana, the way she'd gripped her knees to her chest and refused to meet Josie's eyes. Walking away would never equal the satisfaction Josie would feel by informing Anne Shirley of her wrongdoing. It was practically her duty. 'You were at the graveyard with the pupils from Avonlea school today. Why?'

'What business is that of yours?' Anne hisses.

'It is my business when it hurts a dear friend. Diana was heartbroken, heartbroken, when I told her what you'd done. Martha Wright told me all about it at Lawsons this afternoon. How Miss Shirley wanted them to see themselves as a little band of Avonlea improvers-'

'I never said it like that-'

'So it's true!' says Josie gleefully. 'It was Diana's idea to spruce up the graveyard but you couldn't have that could you-'

'She told you about wanting to tidy the graveyard?'

'Of course she told me. Diana and I have become very close. Didn't you know?'

'No, I didn't...'

'I wonder why.'

Anne tastes salt on her lip and realises her nose is running along with her eyes. She presses the heel of her hand into one and sniffs.'I think you'd better go,' she mutters, 'I have to see Diana.'

'Oh don't worry, I'm going... with you.' Josie straightens her shawl so that her crewel work peonies are evenly displayed upon each shoulder, then folds up her parasol and tucks it under her arm. 'What?' she says noting Anne's disbelieving stare. 'You think I'm foolish enough to believe you won't bad mouth me the moment my back is turned. I know you do. Everyone around here thinks you're so sweet and pure-hearted. Gilbert Blythe always going on about how Anne Shirley holds herself above the common girl. Patronising simpleton. But have your secret trysts with him if you must. Just don't think you're anything special, the Gillis girls got there long before you-'

Anne had been holding her tongue lest she draw Marilla to the scene. Now so furious she no longer cares. She marches up to Josie, her eyes so dark only the merest ring of green shows around her pupils. Josie steps back despite herself.

'I am going to see Diana, and you are so ostentatious and ponderous and- and... BIG BOSOMED there's no way you can keep up with me. So why don't you go home to your ugly house and think your ugly thoughts and leave... me... alone!'

Josie purses her lips together, her brows rising smugly. 'A nice way for the Avonlea school mistress to comport herself,' she says. 'Well... aren't you going to tell Marilla where you're off to?'

'There's no need,' says Marilla, appearing at the front door. 'The whole of Avonlea can hear you two cats. Anne, come inside this instant. Josie, I believe you have delivered your message -unless there's something you'd like to add?'

Marilla watches the Pye girl trot down the drive with an unbecoming haste, before retrieving Anne's book and returning inside. Anne is pacing the hallway, her arms crossed, her chin sticking straight out.

'I won't apologise, I won't! I don't care what you say. I'll dig my own pit this time and find the snakes and toads to fill it with, and sit there for all eternity before I ever talk to her again. Why does she hate me so much when she has everything and I-'

'Have nothing? You came back from school today like a girl with the world in her hands. You're not going to let a Pye take it from you, are you?'

'Why not,' Anne says bitterly, 'they have everything else. I don't understand her, Marilla. Josie could go to Redmond tomorrow if she wanted. She's never had to worry about money or watch the people she loves worry over it. Never had someone close to her die, or had to fret over what the oculist says. She's never had to go without-'

'Josie Pye has gone without plenty.'

'Like what?'

'Kindness mostly. That child couldn't walk into a room without her mother finding some fault. One sock would be lower than the other, one curl droopier, her piano playing was never as good as Jane's, her complexion never as clear as Diana's. She was brought up to be envious, to pick faults in others and in herself.'

'So why is Diana friends with her?'

'Because Ebba Barry is as overbearing and suspicious as Mina Pye.'

'You think Diana feels sorry for Josie?'

'More an ally I'd say.'

'Then why does she hate me?'

'You already know the answer to that. Come now, the shadows are at the door. Best you get to Orchard Slope before sunset or Ebba will tell you to call another day.'

'You're letting me go?'

'For goodness sake, I only shooed Josie away so she wouldn't follow you!'

Anne discovers Diana at the log bridge. She is sitting on the edge, her kid skin slippers skimming over the surface of the brook. 'I thought you'd come,' she says, without looking up.

'I'll always come to you, Di, and if I don't then it's not for want of trying.'

Anne sits down close to her friend and grips her hand. 'Josie came by-'

'She said she would,' Diana says, with that same even tone that makes Anne want to scream. She stares hard at the water and breathes deeply.

'I want so much to tell you that she's wrong, but... maybe Josie's right.' This gets Diana's attention, she turns to her friend and frowns with incomprehension. 'I thought if I encouraged the children to work on the graveyard it would make you happy.'

'I didn't want someone else to do it,' says Diana, softly, 'I wanted to do it myself.'

'I know that now. I bustled in and took over the way I always do-'

'You don't do that... well maybe a little,' Diana confesses. 'I just want something that is mine before I become someone else's.'

Anne is so surprised she shifts suddenly and plunges into the brook. Cool water streams out of her boots as Diana hauls her up. Anne barely seems to have noticed, all she can say is, 'You're not engaged are you!'

Diana busies herself with the laces on Anne's left foot. 'I should say not. There's not one fellow in all Avonlea who is good enough for me.' She tries to laugh, the sound barely making it past her lips before it dies again. 'But I will be one day, and I think a girl should do at least one thing of consequence before she marries.'

'Is that how you felt about the aprons?'

'Oh Anne, I didn't want Josie's help, but Mrs Pye insisted- I suppose because she couldn't bear for her daughter not to get the credit. At first I just tolerated her, but then I was grateful, and then... I don't know, I had a nice time. Josie can be fun when she wants to be and... she understands parts of me that no one else does.' This last admission is said so quickly Anne can hardly make out the words. 'I also know how horrid she is to you,' Diana admits, wringing out Anne's stocking. 'I felt awful for having a nice time, then awful for not telling you, and then... well, I've been in knots about it ever since.'

'She really likes you, Di.'

'And she really doesn't like you.'

'The feeling is mutual,' Anne retorts, 'and now it's worse. I doubt I'll be welcome at the Avette's now.'

'Well if you're not going then I'm not either.'

'No, you can't! Not after all the work you put into those aprons-'

'Anne, they're aprons,' says Diana sensibly. 'What bothers me is what I'm going to do now.'

'You can help me!'

'What? How?'

'I meant what I said about encouraging my pupils to care for their surrounds and I could really use your help. You could be a sort of teacher's assistant. I couldn't pay you much, it would have to come out of my salary-'

'Pay me? You'd better not try, Anne Shirley. Pay me indeed.'

'As you wish,' Anne says, trying not to sound relieved. She balls her stockings into her boots and helps her friend up, and they head toward Orchard Slope. 'But we'll work out some sort of arrangement. There's bound to be a time you have desperate need for the services of the Avonlea schoolmarm.'

'Oh bound to be,' Diana says, mildly. Never foreseeing that a year from now she will have serious cause to ask for just that.

...

* Ok, so it's neither here nor there if you research these notes but the sad-iron with the detachable handle was real, invented and patented in 1870 by Mrs Potts. And if you give up the chance to look up what a goffering iron looks like you are missing out on some serious laughs.

* Ditto Roll Me Over in the Clover (and that song was one of the cleaner ones I found. Honestly, these Victorians!)

* the snake pit that Anne threatens to construct is a reference to ch 11 Mrs Rachel Lynde is Properly Horrified, Anne of Green Gables