That night, when Marilla went up to the east gable, where a white-faced
girl was lying, a plaintive voice greeted her from the bed.
Aren t you very sorry for me, Marilla?
It was your own fault, said Marilla, twitching down the blind and
lighting a lamp.
And that is just why you should be sorry for me, said Anne, because
the thought that it is all my own fault is what makes it so hard. If I
could blame it on anybody I would feel so much better. But what would
you have done, Marilla, if you had been dared to walk a ridgepole?
I d have stayed on good firm ground and let them dare away. Such
absurdity! said Marilla.
Anne sighed.
But you have such strength of mind, Marilla. I haven t. I just felt
that I couldn t bear Josie Pye s scorn. She would have crowed over me
all my life. And I think I have been punished so much that you needn t
be very cross with me, Marilla. It s not a bit nice to faint, after all.
And the doctor hurt me dreadfully when he was setting my ankle. I won t
be able to go around for six or seven weeks and I ll miss the new lady
teacher. She won t be new any more by the time I m able to go to school.
And Gil--everybody will get ahead of me in class. Oh, I am an afflicted
mortal. But I ll try to bear it all bravely if only you won t be cross
with me, Marilla.
There, there, I m not cross, said Marilla. You re an unlucky child,
there s no doubt about that; but as you say, you ll have the suffering
of it. Here now, try and eat some supper.
Isn t it fortunate I ve got such an imagination? said Anne. It will
help me through splendidly, I expect. What do people who haven t any
imagination do when they break their bones, do you suppose, Marilla?
Anne had good reason to bless her imagination many a time and oft during
the tedious seven weeks that followed. But she was not solely dependent
on it. She had many visitors and not a day passed without one or more of
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