Marilla went slowly down to the kitchen and proceeded to wash the supper
dishes. Matthew was smoking--a sure sign of perturbation of mind. He
seldom smoked, for Marilla set her face against it as a filthy habit;
but at certain times and seasons he felt driven to it and then Marilla
winked at the practice, realizing that a mere man must have some vent
for his emotions.
Well, this is a pretty kettle of fish, she said wrathfully. This is
what comes of sending word instead of going ourselves. Richard Spencer s
folks have twisted that message somehow. One of us will have to drive
over and see Mrs. Spencer tomorrow, that s certain. This girl will have
to be sent back to the asylum.
Yes, I suppose so, said Matthew reluctantly.
You _suppose_ so! Don t you know it?
Well now, she s a real nice little thing, Marilla. It s kind of a pity
to send her back when she s so set on staying here.
Matthew Cuthbert, you don t mean to say you think we ought to keep
her!
Marilla s astonishment could not have been greater if Matthew had
expressed a predilection for standing on his head.
Well, now, no, I suppose not--not exactly, stammered Matthew,
uncomfortably driven into a corner for his precise meaning. I
suppose--we could hardly be expected to keep her.
I should say not. What good would she be to us?
We might be some good to her, said Matthew suddenly and unexpectedly.
Matthew Cuthbert, I believe that child has bewitched you! I can see as
plain as plain that you want to keep her.
Well now, she s a real interesting little thing, persisted Matthew.
You should have heard her talk coming from the station.
27