I suppose I can have the mare and buggy this afternoon, Matthew? said
Marilla.
Matthew nodded and looked wistfully at Anne. Marilla intercepted the
look and said grimly:
I m going to drive over to White Sands and settle this thing. I ll take
Anne with me and Mrs. Spencer will probably make arrangements to send
her back to Nova Scotia at once. I ll set your tea out for you and I ll
be home in time to milk the cows.
Still Matthew said nothing and Marilla had a sense of having wasted
words and breath. There is nothing more aggravating than a man who won t
talk back--unless it is a woman who won t.
Matthew hitched the sorrel into the buggy in due time and Marilla and
Anne set off. Matthew opened the yard gate for them and as they drove
slowly through, he said, to nobody in particular as it seemed:
Little Jerry Buote from the Creek was here this morning, and I told him
I guessed I d hire him for the summer.
Marilla made no reply, but she hit the unlucky sorrel such a vicious
clip with the whip that the fat mare, unused to such treatment, whizzed
indignantly down the lane at an alarming pace. Marilla looked back once
as the buggy bounced along and saw that aggravating Matthew leaning over
the gate, looking wistfully after them.
CHAPTER V. Anne s History
DO you know, said Anne confidentially, I ve made up my mind to enjoy
this drive. It s been my experience that you can nearly always enjoy
things if you make up your mind firmly that you will. Of course, you
must make it up _firmly_. I am not going to think about going back to
the asylum while we re having our drive. I m just going to think about
the drive. Oh, look, there s one little early wild rose out! Isn t it
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