Summer may be considered a relaxing time for most of us, but my weekends are really busy this month - so, again! early post!
-M.R.
Chapter Twenty-Six: Observer
I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where…
-Longfellow, The Arrow and the Song
AVONLEA NOTES.
A certain vivacious woman in Middle Grafton ought to know that she has two boys fighting for her favor: G. and P. They plan to stage a tournament before that lady's stone guerdon with her chickens. Chicken for dinner.
Rumor has it that there will be a wedding in Avonlea ere the daisies are in bloom. A new and highly respected citizen will lead to the hymeneal altar one of our most popular ladies.
A certain red-haired personage will be pleased to know that like likes like, and will probably win the hand of another with the same hair color, over their brown-haired opponent.
Certain citizens of Avonlea will be pleased to remember that the AVIS carefully records every promise made concerning improvement…and it would be well to keep those promises…to avoid being observed in Charlottetown's illustrious Daily Enterprise again.
Uncle Abe, our well-known weather prophet, predicts a violent storm of thunder and lightning for the evening of the third of June, beginning at seven o' clock sharp. The area of the storm will extend over the greater part of the Province. People traveling that evening will do well to take umbrellas and mackintoshes with them.
-Observer.
"What do you think?" asked Gilbert candidly, laying the Daily Enterprise before astonished Anne. "I couldn't get all thirteen published…but everyone is suitably flummoxed by what I managed to get in."
"I didn't think you were actually going to post them," Anne said dazedly…having been a co-author of the AVONLEA NOTES. "How ever did you get the Enterprise to publish this nonsense?"
"Well, you know Oliver Sloane has got a post as secretary in the Enterprise…"
"Gil, you didn't!" exclaimed Anne.
Gilbert merely grinned, first at his astonished friend, then at his AVONLEA NOTES.
His smile faded soon, when Anne peered more closely at the third NOTE. "'Red-haired…same…color' –Gilbert Blythe! I am going to KILL you!"
"What?" said Gilbert, trying to look innocent…although he was hoping Anne would not notice the NOTE that suggested that Charlie would come out best when it came to Gilbert. And courting Anne.
"I can't believe," Anne thrust the newspaper in his face, "that you would do such a thing! Camille Bell will gloat over me to no end!"
"Cam—?" Gilbert choked back his incredulous exclamation. Would it really harm Gilbert to have Anne think Gilbert was not at all concerned within that NOTE?
"Yes, you ninny!" cried Anne. "You and I both know Charlie Sloane…your first red-haired person…is dead gone on me…" expressionlessly… "and Camille Bell does NOT want him back. So now everyone will think Charlie and I are engaged!!"
"Mmmmmphhhh!" protested Gilbert. His indignation would have possessed more clarity had he not just been hit in the face with a sofa cushion. But he knew that if everyone thought of Gilbert and not Camille, which they likely would…Anne would have it just about right.
"Uncle Abe really has predicted a storm for sometime this spring," Gilbert after some time, picking down feathers out of his hair…and off of his tongue… "but do you suppose Mr. Harrison really does go to see Isabella Andrews?"
"No," Anne, who best knew Mr. Harrison, promptly replied. "I'm sure he only goes to play checkers with Mr. Harmon Andrews, but Mrs. Lynde says she knows Isabella Andrews must be going to get married, she's in such good spirits this spring."
Gilbert hastily betook himself home…with his newspaper…lest Anne delve further into the "like likes like" NOTE.
The people who had discerned their own identities were indignant. Charlie Sloane was not only convinced, and quite rightly, that he was one of the "red-haired" people mentioned, but also he was annoyed with having to deny that he was the Observer…for who else would have written such a scathing prophecy for the Blythe-Sloane-Shirley love triangle? Messrs. Judson Parker and Hiram Sloane were so alarmed at the pricks to their consciences…or rather their honor…that a certain rotting fence was quietly torn down and a young rowan tree was as surreptitiously replanted. Uncle Abe especially denied having ever set a date for his storm, but in vain.
Miss Lavendar, however, was delighted that she, a damosel in distress, was to be tourneyed over by Gilbert and Paul. And at an impromptu dinner party, involving the knights, the damosel, and Anne and Charlotta the Fourth, there were two fat capons…er, perished squires…presented.
They were the last of Miss Lavendar's beloved chickens that would ever be eaten.
The spring bloomed without incident; and by the third of June everyone could tell that the summer months were on their way. In the White Sands schoolhouse Gilbert in a suit and tie envied his students their light sun-wear, although they, too, sweated profusely as their heads bent over long division.
All day the sun's light had been waxing and waning, as on a cloudy day; when it was momentarily quenched it was too dark to work and the students slumped back in their seats with a sigh of relief; but this time the sun darkened and the next thing they knew was a horrible CRASH of thunder and lightning.
The girls screamed, and the boys yelled and threw hastily-crafted paper airplanes at each other.
The thunder and lightning CRASHed again…this time accompanied by heavy rain.
Gilbert was at a loss for what to do, as his pupils screamed and gibbered. They were so far out of town…how on earth was he supposed to send them home in such weather? He couldn't!
There were five windows in the classroom: one each on the walls on either side of Gilbert's desk, one behind him, and the door was between the last two. At this interesting moment it began to hail. A particularly large chunk of icy hail made a terrific SMASH as it came sailing through the window behind Gilbert.
Tommy Blewett, age eleven, set up a high-pitched wail that was soon taken up by a few girls. The rest of the girls had either fainted or were having hysterics.
"Everyone get into the center of the room!" Gilbert shouted over Tommy Blewett. "Stay away from the windows!"
"But Teacher," said six-year-old Lily Snap, the only girl who was still conscious and sensible. "The desks are in the way."
It was true. The desks were quite firmly nailed to the floor, whatever might be said of the schoolhouse's faults.
"Never mind the desks. I guess you can sit on top of them if you need to."
Sit on top of the desks! The boys grinned round at each other in a sudden wave of amusement. Teacher was a brick, after all. The boys even assisted in escorting hysterical and unconscious female classmates into the center of the room.
Gilbert clambered up onto a middle desk, while his students huddled round him. "Now," he said, rather cheerfully, considering the fact that every window in the school was broken away and the floor could not be seen for hail, "what shall we do?"
"Sing?" suggested a frilly little creature, who had just revived and was looking round at the assembly with interest.
"Scream and shout!" said thirteen-year-old Teddy McEwan…Ned's younger brother…with a nod at the still-shrieking Tommy Blewett.
"Let's tell stories!" exclaimed Lily enthusiastically; and again it was her suggestion that was hailed with agreement.
"Okay," approved Gilbert. "Lily, you go first."
The small girl thought hard for a moment. "Okay. Once 'pon a time there was a prince and a princess."
"What were their names?" asked a tow-headed boy.
"The princess was called Claira and the prince was called Prince Gilbert."
Gilbert looked at Lily, who stared guilelessly back at him.
"I like the name," she explained…then, "It's for handsome boys, like princes, and that's why you've got it as a name, I think."
"So…what became of the princess?" asked Gilbert hastily.
"Well, and the princess had a lot of pet cats who were bad and one nice little cat named George. One day she was walking on the road with the prince. And she told George, 'You mustn't come with me when I'm walking.' But George came with her when she was walking. And then they passed a brook. And then George fell in. And George couldn't swim, 'cause he didn't learn how, and he was drownded." Lily nodded meditatively.
"What did the princess say?" asked Gilbert, when Lily didn't show any signs of continuing her story.
"Oh, she cried an awful lot," Lily assured her teacher. "So she borrowed a piece of string from the prince and tied it to George's drownded ear and dragged him home. And when she got home she took George and she put him up on a shelf to dry for seed."
A burst of laughter greeted the intriguing end of Lily's story. Some more children made up stories, and eventually the storm let up and the children went home, wading through the ankle-deep muddy water and exclaiming gleefully over floating branches.
Gilbert sighed and swept up what he could of hail and glass, then rode Braveheart into Avonlea.
It was one o' clock in the afternoon when he dismounted before Green Gables and waded into the house to find Marilla Cuthbert busily nailing oilcloth over the windowframes.
"Let me help you with that," he offered.
"Thank you, Gilbert," smiled Marilla. She shook a nail at the windowframe. "Goodness only knows when we'll get glass for them. Mr. Barry went over to Carmody this afternoon but not a pane could he get for love or money. Lawson and Blair were cleaned out by the Carmody people by ten o' clock. Was the storm bad at White Sands, Gilbert?"
"I should say so!" exclaimed Gilbert, giving Marilla an account of the morning's events. Marilla let out a peal of laughter upon hearing Lily Snap's story.
Davy and Dora showed up presently. Dora ran to Gilbert and hugged his legs, but Davy was talking. "I only squealed once. My garden was all smashed flat, but so was Dora's. Say, Gilbert, wasn't that a bully storm?"
"You ought not to say such things," Marilla said severely. "I'm sure people were hurt or killed if they got caught out there."
Anne, too, came running down from her room, struggling into a blue sweater. "Hello, Gilbert. Miss Lavendar's and Hester Gray's gardens are probably blown to pieces, and I bet Miss Lavendar's chickens are all gone…you know how they run free. I'm going over to see Mr. Harrison," she announced to the company at large. "John Henry Carter says Ginger was killed in the storm and even if that bird was the bane of my existence I know Mr. Harrison'd like me to visit."
But Anne never made it into Mr. Harrison's house. Gilbert and Marilla stopped putting up oilcloth to watch as Anne was overtaken on the road by a buggy. They could not see the person driving, except that she was short and black-haired, and had "outlandish taste in bonnets"…Marilla's verdict. Certainly she was not from the Island. The woman and Anne exchanged a few words; then the unknown woman continued in her buggy up to Mr. Harrison's house…while Anne fled back to the safety of Green Gables.
"Anne, who was that woman?" queried Marilla, when Anne came in at the door, flushed and panting.
"Marilla, do I look as though I were crazy?" Anne asked in her turn.
"Not more so than usual,"…Gilbert and Marilla said in unison…then shared a commiserating glance.
But Anne was not to be quenched. "Well, then, do you think that I am awake?"
Marilla sighed. "Anne, what nonsense has gotten into you? Who was that woman, I say?"
"If I'm not crazy and I'm not asleep," said Anne tragically, "she can't be such stuff as dreams were made of…she must be real. Anyway I'm sure even I couldn't have imagined such a bonnet…she says she is Mr. Harrison's wife!!"
"What?!" exclaimed Gilbert, and Marilla said, "His wife! Anne Shirley! But then what has he been passing himself off as an unmarried man for?"
"I don't suppose he did, really. He never said he wasn't married," Anne hedged. "People simply took it for granted."
When Mrs. Rachel Lynde had come over to offer her opinion on the subject, Anne took Gilbert aside.
"We should never have published those NOTES," she lamented.
"Don't you go and take credit for my getting them printed, Anne Shirley!" Gilbert said in mock indignation. Then he added, "But I do almost feel as though we 'magicked' up the storm, Anne. And Mrs. Harrison, for that matter."
Anne nodded solemnly; but her eyes were dancing. "Except for the bonnet."