Thanks so much to gemtsoi, r6144, Elouise82, and Frangipanigirl for reviewing – very spiffing of you.

Oh, and by the way, Frangipanigirl, I did bring the Rosings into existence; you're right, they weren't in the books. You'll find out a bit more about them this chapter.

Chapter 3. Introduces Annetta

Barbara and Matilda talked at recess. Or rather, Barbara, somewhat awkwardly, attempted to point out to Matilda where she had gone wrong, and tried to make her see the rudeness of her behaviour, (all the time trying to be calm and kind yet firm and capable) - but it was very frustrating.

Matilda sat there, a look of smooth, polite interest on her pale face, her hands folded neatly in her lap, but Barbara had the uncomfortable feeling that she was not really listening to anything she was saying.

"Don't you think, Matilda," she tried again, "That your feelings would be hurt if someone spoke of you the way you spoke of poor Nelly today?"

"Oh, but no-one could speak of me that way," Matilda said, "I am a Rosing."

Barbara wished she could say, "a fig for the Rosings'", as was her first impulse, but of course she could not.

"You must apologise to Nelly, Matilda," she said, trying to be stern.

"But I can't," said Matilda – politely, oh, yes, always politely!

"Then you must stay in at recess every day until you will," Barbara said, feeling despairing of ever getting Matilda to agree with her. "And you will sit next to Nelly."

She waited for the aggravating reply of "But I can't", but it was not forthcoming.

Matilda merely nodded.

000000000000000000

The children may have behaved well in the morning, but that afternoon was really very trying.

To begin with, Matilda, though she sat next to Nelly, sat herself at the very corner of the bench, and refused to look at or speak to Nelly. Charlie Thompson, who turned out to be quite an irrepressible little tease, pulled girls' braids, dropped spiders down their necks, and even laid a banana peel on the floor so that Barbara, when she came up to reprimand him, slipped on it, and had to catch hold of a desk to stop herself from falling. Girls whispered constantly, and drew on their slates instead of doing their sums.

Barbara scolded and punished so that when she rang the bell for the end of school, her voice was hoarse and she felt ready to cry for vexation.

She walked wearily home from school. Surely – surely things would be better tomorrow. Once she was used to – scolding so much.

At home, she found Mrs. Rachel Lynde sitting in the kitchen with her aunt. They were discussing Trent West's funeral, but from the way Mrs. Rachel abruptly broke off the conversation when she walked in, Barbara knew that she had come on purpose to find out how her first day had gone.

"Well, Barbara? How was your first day teaching?" she inquired, after Barbara had put her school books away, and Mrs. Josephine was cutting fruitcake for her niece and pouring her a cup of tea, all the while eyeing her sharply.

"It was tolerable, Mrs. Lynde," answered Barbara, sitting down.

Mrs. Lynde looked at her sympathetically. "Dora told me that Charlie Thompson was real naughty. But she and Davy both said that they like you real well as a teacher, Barbara. And they said that most of the other scholars liked you too."

Matilda Rosing hadn't, Barbara thought, and it reminded her of something she had meant to ask her aunt.

"Aunty, Mrs. Lynde – who are the Rosings?"

"They just moved from Montreal, a week or so before you came home," her aunt said, "I haven't had a chance to call. Clark Rosing grew up on the Island, over in Newbridge, but his ancestors came out from Scotland. He became a businessman in Montreal, and made quite a lot of money, I heard."

"He met and married Amelia Rosing there," Mrs. Rachel put in, "she was from the Island too – grew up right here in Avonlea. I remember her as a girl. She was a belle and beauty. Likely it was because of her Clark moved back to the Island – her health was failing her, I understand." She looked shrewdly at Barbara.

"I suppose their daughter was at school today?"

"Yes," Barbara said, sipping her tea.

"She's supposed to resemble Amelia mightily, I heard. Folks rave about her looks, although I haven't seen her, or called on them myself – I haven't had a chance since I was laid up with flu."

"She is very pretty," admitted Barbara. "But…" She stopped. She did not like to tell Mrs. Lynde about Matilda's behaviour. She wanted to win her over without anyone's knowing.

"A bit spoiled?" Mrs. Lynde said knowingly.

"A little, Mrs. Lynde. Excuse me, I promised Annetta that I would spend the afternoon with her," Barbara got up and in her haste, knocked her chair over, getting her long legs tangled up in it somehow, and sat down hard on the floor.

"Oh dear…no, Mrs. Lynde, there's nothing broken, I do assure you," she laughed up at the good lady, who had looked rather alarmed at the resounding crash that Barbara and the chair had made.

Springing to her feet, her face slightly crimson, she set the chair upright once more and went off to Rosebrooks, the Bell farm.

The two ladies looked at each other, amusedly tolerant, after she had left.

"Barbara is still a child in so many ways," sighed Mrs. Josephine, shaking her head, a little helplessly.

"Well, I don't deny that she's a trifle hasty sometimes, Josephine, but it's a real sensible girl she's grown to be. You don't need to worry about her," comforted Mrs. Lynde.

000000000000000000000

Annetta was unhappy about something. Barbara could see that as soon as she arrived at Rosebrooks. Her big brown eyes were wistful. To be sure, Annetta nearly always looked a wee bit wistful. She was a pale, delicate little thing, with silky masses of fawn-coloured hair. Her parents had decided not to let her study for the Entrance for fear that she was not strong enough to cope with the work, or to attend Queen's and teach. Annetta hadn't minded. She liked very well to stay at home and help her mother.

Barbara and Annetta had been friends since they were schoolmates in Avonlea School. Annetta had never laughed at her scrapes as other girls had – indeed, she herself was rather isolated by them for being so quiet and timid. At first they had been friends out of necessity – then they grew very close, and, eventually, as a certain redhead might have said, became "bosom friends."

Now Annetta's fingers, knitting lace, kept fumbling the pattern– a sure sign of distress, for Annetta, though insignificant in terms of popularity, was well-known in Avonlea for her beautiful knit lace, something that Barbara, with her ability to tangle thread and lose track of a pattern, particularly admired.

She still listened to Barbara's account of her first day with interest and sympathy, however.

"Matilda Rosing sounds dreadful," she said.

"She certainly was very trying," Barbara groaned. "I must confess, that, when she sat there and didn't even look at poor little Nelly, I felt exactly like I wanted to spank her. But, Netty, I don't want her to hate and fear me – I don't want any of the children to see me as an ogress. I'll just have to win Matilda over. As for Charlie Thompson, he isn't such a bad little fellow, even if did try and trip me up. But what is bothering you, Netty dear?"

Annetta looked down at her knitting, then put it aside with an unhappy little sigh.

"Oh Barbara, I just don't know what to do. I missed you dreadfully to tell things to when you were at Queen's, and I didn't want to disrupt your studies by writing you about it. And when you got back, you were so busy helping your aunt and preparing for school that I didn't want to distract you."

"Silly Netty! As if talking to you would be a 'distraction' as you put it. What is it, dear?"

Annetta looked up, her little, pale face worried, her large brown eyes anxious.

"Barbara – Edgar Rosing wants me to marry him."

Barbara gaped at her.

"And who in the wide world is Edgar Rosing?" she exclaimed.

000000000000000000000000000

Ah, yes, who? And what will come of it? Stay tuned to find out!

And of course, please review!

-Silver Stockings-