being seasick it s a mercy I did prowl, isn t it? And I wanted to see
everything that was to be seen on that boat, because I didn t know
whether I d ever have another opportunity. Oh, there are a lot more
cherry-trees all in bloom! This Island is the bloomiest place. I just
love it already, and I m so glad I m going to live here. I ve always
heard that Prince Edward Island was the prettiest place in the world,
and I used to imagine I was living here, but I never really expected I
would. It s delightful when your imaginations come true, isn t it?
But those red roads are so funny. When we got into the train at
Charlottetown and the red roads began to flash past I asked Mrs. Spencer
what made them red and she said she didn t know and for pity s sake not
to ask her any more questions. She said I must have asked her a thousand
already. I suppose I had, too, but how are you going to find out about
things if you don t ask questions? And what _does_ make the roads red?
Well now, I dunno, said Matthew.
Well, that is one of the things to find out sometime. Isn t it splendid
to think of all the things there are to find out about? It just makes
me feel glad to be alive--it s such an interesting world. It wouldn t be
half so interesting if we knew all about everything, would it? There d
be no scope for imagination then, would there? But am I talking too
much? People are always telling me I do. Would you rather I didn t
talk? If you say so I ll stop. I can _stop_ when I make up my mind to it,
although it s difficult.
Matthew, much to his own surprise, was enjoying himself. Like most quiet
folks he liked talkative people when they were willing to do the talking
themselves and did not expect him to keep up his end of it. But he had
never expected to enjoy the society of a little girl. Women were bad
enough in all conscience, but little girls were worse. He detested the
way they had of sidling past him timidly, with sidewise glances, as if
they expected him to gobble them up at a mouthful if they ventured to
say a word. That was the Avonlea type of well-bred little girl. But
this freckled witch was very different, and although he found it rather
difficult for his slower intelligence to keep up with her brisk mental
processes he thought that he kind of liked her chatter. So he said as
shyly as usual:
Oh, you can talk as much as you like. I don t mind.
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