to the very existence of Gilbert Blythe, but of every other scholar in
Avonlea school itself. With her chin propped on her hands and her eyes
fixed on the blue glimpse of the Lake of Shining Waters that the west
window afforded, she was far away in a gorgeous dreamland hearing and
seeing nothing save her own wonderful visions.
Gilbert Blythe wasn t used to putting himself out to make a girl look
at him and meeting with failure. She _should_ look at him, that red-haired
Shirley girl with the little pointed chin and the big eyes that weren t
like the eyes of any other girl in Avonlea school.
Gilbert reached across the aisle, picked up the end of Anne s long red
braid, held it out at arm s length and said in a piercing whisper:
Carrots! Carrots!
Then Anne looked at him with a vengeance!
She did more than look. She sprang to her feet, her bright fancies
fallen into cureless ruin. She flashed one indignant glance at Gilbert
from eyes whose angry sparkle was swiftly quenched in equally angry
tears.
You mean, hateful boy! she exclaimed passionately. How dare you!
And then--thwack! Anne had brought her slate down on Gilbert s head and
cracked it--slate not head--clear across.
Avonlea school always enjoyed a scene. This was an especially enjoyable
one. Everybody said Oh in horrified delight. Diana gasped. Ruby
Gillis, who was inclined to be hysterical, began to cry. Tommy
Sloane let his team of crickets escape him altogether while he stared
open-mouthed at the tableau.
Mr. Phillips stalked down the aisle and laid his hand heavily on Anne s
shoulder.
Anne Shirley, what does this mean? he said angrily. Anne returned no
answer. It was asking too much of flesh and blood to expect her to tell
before the whole school that she had been called carrots. Gilbert it
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