position was a very uncomfortable one.
The minutes passed by, each seeming an hour to the unfortunate lily
maid. Why didn t somebody come? Where had the girls gone? Suppose they
had fainted, one and all! Suppose nobody ever came! Suppose she grew so
tired and cramped that she could hold on no longer! Anne looked at the
wicked green depths below her, wavering with long, oily shadows, and
shivered. Her imagination began to suggest all manner of gruesome
possibilities to her.
Then, just as she thought she really could not endure the ache in her
arms and wrists another moment, Gilbert Blythe came rowing under the
bridge in Harmon Andrews s dory!
Gilbert glanced up and, much to his amazement, beheld a little white
scornful face looking down upon him with big, frightened but also
scornful gray eyes.
Anne Shirley! How on earth did you get there? he exclaimed.
Without waiting for an answer he pulled close to the pile and extended
his hand. There was no help for it; Anne, clinging to Gilbert Blythe s
hand, scrambled down into the dory, where she sat, drabbled and furious,
in the stern with her arms full of dripping shawl and wet crepe. It was
certainly extremely difficult to be dignified under the circumstances!
What has happened, Anne? asked Gilbert, taking up his oars.
We were playing Elaine, explained Anne frigidly, without even looking
at her rescuer, and I had to drift down to Camelot in the barge--I
mean the flat. The flat began to leak and I climbed out on the pile.
The girls went for help. Will you be kind enough to row me to the
landing?
Gilbert obligingly rowed to the landing and Anne, disdaining assistance,
sprang nimbly on shore.
I m very much obliged to you, she said haughtily as she turned away.
But Gilbert had also sprung from the boat and now laid a detaining hand
on her arm.
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