This follows the events of Chapter 12, A Jonah Day in Anne of Avonlea
Davy had been put to work sweeping the yard. Gilbert found him standing by a pile of leaves scratching his head. "You got nits Davy boy?" Gilbert asked cheekily.
"What? Oh, it's you Gilbert. Nits, ha ha, that's funny."
"I don't suppose Marilla would let a louse within in earshot of Green Gables, would she?"
"No chance," said Davy shuddering at the thought. Marilla was an aggressive washer of hair at the best of times; he couldn't imagine what it'd be like if she ever found a louse on his person. "Although on second thoughts do you think I could keep one as a pet? I've been asking Marilla to let me have a dog and she's said no cos they're so big and messy. A louse is nice and small."
"A pet nit? No, I don't think so, Davy boy. I can't see Marilla agreeing to that. Hard to keep them contained I'd expect."
"Hm, well it was worth a shot," Davy said reflectively.
"Is Anne home?" Gilbert asked to change the subject since Davy seemed set on acquiring a pet of any stripe.
"She had a bad week, 'spect she'll want to tell you all about it. Women just love to tell you every little bad thing, why is that Gilbert, I want to know?" Gilbert shrugged, it was a fair question actually but not one he knew the answer to.
Gilbert heard a cut off exclamation and the tinny sound of something landing on the floor as he went to knock and decided he had better just walk in uninvited. He found Marilla standing over an upside-down baking tray sucking her thumb. "Everything all right?" he said.
She frowned down at her cookies and up at him, "not really. The cloth slipped and I burnt myself on the tray," she pulled her thumb out of her mouth and examined it closely.
"Let me see," Gilbert said taking her work worn hand in his own, a tell-tale red mark was all the evidence he needed.
"I don't have any butter left," said Marilla in some annoyance. "I think Davy ate the last of it on his toast this morning. I was going to churn some more this afternoon." She winced when Gilbert brushed her thumb lightly.
"Sorry, burns are painful aren't they." Gilbert went to the sink and pumped out a cupful of water. "Try this instead," he said placing it down on the kitchen table.
"Whatever do you mean?"
"Ma swears by it, hold it in the water until it doesn't hurt."
"Water? What good is water? My mother always used butter it gets better in the end." She looked at Gilbert and begrudgingly did as he suggested. She raised her eyebrows but was otherwise silent when the cold water hit her damaged digit.
"Is that better?" Gilbert enquired gently.
Marilla nodded and smiled up at him, "yes thank you that does soothe it, I apologise for doubting you."
"That's all right, I know most folks prefer butter, but I find water more effective."
Anne came rushing down the stairs, "I thought I heard something, are you quite well Marilla, oh!" she stopped at the foot of the stairs and took in the sight of Gilbert picking up the baking tray.
"Little accident," said Marilla. "So silly of me."
"Let me see," said Anne. Marilla showed her dripping thumb to Anne momentarily before putting back in the cup. "That does look painful, does the water help?"
"It does strangely enough. What is it Rachel says? You never stop learning til you're dead. Thank you, Gilbert."
"My pleasure, ma'am."
"Davy said you had a bad week," Gilbert said when they were alone at last. "Want to tell me about it?"
Anne sighed, "you'll laugh. Oh, why do all the terrible things happen when you're at your lowest? She described her Jonah day and Gilbert had to fight back a smile when she told him about the fireworks in the stove and then the mouse in her desk. "That does sound trying."
"I was already in a foul mood and then all that had to happen. It's as if someone had it in for me."
"Then what did you do?"
"Oh, that's the worst thing about it, I lost my temper and caned Anthony Pye."
"Oh Anne," Gilbert's heart broke for her a little bit. Ever since Marilla had told him about Anne's past, her attitude towards corporal punishment made complete sense. He knew how her capitulation must have wounded her.
"Marilla consoled me, but I felt just awful about it, Gilbert. I tried so hard, but mice," she shuddered. "And, and," tears welled in her eyes once more and she angrily wiped them away. Gilbert loved her for her passion in that moment. Unbeknownst to them both she was behaving very like Marilla; unwilling to show her vulnerability. Have you whipped any of your students Gil?"
Gilbert's heart leapt, Anne had never called him Gil before. "What? Oh yes, I don't do it lightly but I've had to a couple of times when they get out of hand. I was always so impressed that you managed without it actually."
"Well you can stop being impressed because in the end I caved. Poor Anthony, I had hoped I could reach him through love but now he'll hate me more than ever." Tears brimmed in her big grey eyes as she looked at him. "It was such an awful day. It took all my willpower to make it back to the classroom the next day, but I couldn't let it beat me and they were all such dears the next day."
"It'll remind them that you may be sweet Miss Shirley most of the time, but you're no pushover," Gilbert reminded her. "Doesn't sound too awful really when you think about it. Come now it's not the end of the world, Anne."
"I suppose so, it feels good to speak to another teacher about it. Marilla means well but she's never been in charge of a whole classroom."
"She might say that Davy causes as much trouble as a whole class," Gilbert said with a smile.
Anne laughed, "she probably would at that."
Gilbert recounted Anne's day to his mother and she laughed when the firecrackers exploded. "Poor Anne," she said thoughtfully. "That does sound like a trying day. Maybe it was …" but then she remembered to whom she was talking, and she bit off her comment.
"Must have been what, Ma?"
"Er, very frustrating," Cora added though it was apparent to Gilbert that she meant to say something else entirely. He was reminded of Davy's remark earlier, because it seemed like his mother had wanted to say more but stopped herself in time. He looked at her curiously, but Cora just stared blankly back with a small seemingly innocent smile.
"What? What were you going to say?"
"Say? Me? Nothing at all," she replied, disingenuously he thought. "Very difficult for poor Anne, is all. Isn't that enough?"
Later over coffee at Rachel's house Cora felt freer to talk. "Must have been her time of the month don't you think. Anne is usually so calm, but I recall I was always very irritable just beforehand."
Rachel snorted, "it's interesting isn't it. I never thought anyone would describe Anne as calm, but you're right. She's grown up into a fine young lady. Anyway, I agree with you, it's certainly a possibility. I don't miss it I'll say it out loud."
"Well who does? All that messing about with hooks and rags and the extra washing. Not to mention the irritability and the cramps," Cora shuddered. "I suppose I was a bit sad when I knew there was no chance of another child, but you'd have to say it did free me up."
"Quite so," said Rachel thinking how different her experience had been. She had ten children, more than enough for any woman but poor Cora only ever had the one living baby. Gilbert was a lovely son; but she was sure Cora and John would have liked to give him a brother or sister. Rachel was quite content when her courses ceased but she appreciated that not everyone felt the same way.
True to form Rachel spread the gossip at the Ladies' Aid the next day. The story soon got away from her and before she knew it, she heard someone say that poor Anne had leaked all over her petticoats and had to rush out. It was at that point that Marilla overheard the story sotto voce. "Yes, that's right," said Mrs Boulter to Mrs Gillis, "all over her skirts so I heard tell. Wouldn't you die of mortification." Both women tittered behind their gloved hands.
"What's that?" Marilla asked. "Why would you be mortified?"
Mrs Boulter resembled a child caught with her hands in the cookie jar when she said, "your girl was caught short, so they say."
"What on earth are you talking about?" Marilla said with a frown. "Has the whole world gone mad today or something?"
Mrs Pye was the brave soul who replied, "we are talking about your Anne. She disgraced herself at school the other day, or so I hear tell."
"Fiddlesticks!" said Marilla. "She's hardly the first woman to have succumbed to such drastic actions. You can hardly call it a disgrace."
The other ladies who had been looking for Marilla's reaction now turned their gaze towards Mrs Pye. "Well I do," she reiterated. "Anne should have been better prepared. One should always have something to hand to deal with that situation. It's not as though it's her first time."
"As it happens it was," Marilla replied steadily. "She's never done it before; is quite set against it."
"I beg your pardon Miss Cuthbert, what you're saying doesn't make any sense. Are you telling me a grown woman of seventeen hadn't commenced their courses?"
"Courses?" Marilla was confused. "I was saying Anne had never used corporal punishment before. Why are we talking about menstruation all of a sudden?"
"That's what we're discussing," Mrs Pye said slowly, wondering if Marilla were being purposefully dim or if she were somewhat addled. "Anne had an accident and bled all over her skirts. When they were stained through, she had to rush home."
"Anne did no such thing," Marilla remonstrated. "I do the laundry I can assure you nothing of the sort happened. What I was talking about was that Anne resorted to corporal punishment for the first time, it had nothing to do with her time of the month. I must say I am dismayed you women are discussing that in public. It's not as though that particular accident hasn't happened to anyone before, but as it turns out that is not what Anne was upset about. She is set against corporal punishment of any sort.
"Can't think why," replied Mrs Pye. "It's a perfectly natural method."
"Yes well, it looks as though it must be in your house," said Marilla.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Your Anthony was the one who was caned. Anne said his behaviour sent her over the edge. Mice in her desk drawer I believe was the tipping point. If Anthony had a speck of respect for her role he would never have behaved in that matter. I would be ashamed if my son acted that way."
"If I can recall, didn't your charge Davy Keith tip a caterpillar down Lauretta White's dress at church one morning? Terrible behaviour, and on the Sabbath too. Don't tell me he didn't get a thrashing when you got home?"
"We don't thrash our children at Green Gables," replied Marilla icily. "He was sent to bed without any supper, but he was not whipped then and never will be."
"Spare the rod and spoil the child, don't they say?" responded Mrs Pye.
"Yes, well that has never been our way. Anne prefers to get through to the children with love and I agree with her. Beating a child only teaches them that violence is the answer. Anne may have caned your Anthony that one time but I doubt she'll do it again.
"Perhaps a little less beating at home and a little more love might bring Anthony around," Marilla said to Anne that night after the children had been put to bed. "I couldn't bear to whip you and I can't abide the idea of doing it to little Davy. He may be mischief personified but I can't see the point?"
"Quite," agreed Anne. "I shouldn't have hit Anthony I know, but it was an exasperating day."
Marilla kept the Aids' opinions to herself. Just privately she agreed with them, it probably was that time of the month, but Anne would have been mortified to know what the town had been discussing that afternoon.