Anne meditatively. But I m going to imagine that I m the wind that is
blowing up there in those tree tops. When I get tired of the trees I ll
imagine I m gently waving down here in the ferns--and then I ll fly over
to Mrs. Lynde s garden and set the flowers dancing--and then I ll go
with one great swoop over the clover field--and then I ll blow over the
Lake of Shining Waters and ripple it all up into little sparkling waves.
Oh, there s so much scope for imagination in a wind! So I ll not talk
any more just now, Marilla.
Thanks be to goodness for that, breathed Marilla in devout relief.
CHAPTER XI. Anne s Impressions of Sunday-school
WELL, how do you like them? said Marilla.
Anne was standing in the gable room, looking solemnly at three new
dresses spread out on the bed. One was of snuffy colored gingham which
Marilla had been tempted to buy from a peddler the preceding summer
because it looked so serviceable; one was of black-and-white checkered
sateen which she had picked up at a bargain counter in the winter; and
one was a stiff print of an ugly blue shade which she had purchased that
week at a Carmody store.
She had made them up herself, and they were all made alike--plain skirts
fulled tightly to plain waists, with sleeves as plain as waist and skirt
and tight as sleeves could be.
I ll imagine that I like them, said Anne soberly.
I don t want you to imagine it, said Marilla, offended. Oh, I can see
you don t like the dresses! What is the matter with them? Aren t they
neat and clean and new?
Yes.
Then why don t you like them?
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