Oh, Marilla, you d be excited, too, if you were going to meet a little
girl you hoped to be your bosom friend and whose mother mightn t like
you, she said as she hastened to get her hat.
They went over to Orchard Slope by the short cut across the brook and up
the firry hill grove. Mrs. Barry came to the kitchen door in answer to
Marilla s knock. She was a tall black-eyed, black-haired woman, with a
very resolute mouth. She had the reputation of being very strict with
her children.
How do you do, Marilla? she said cordially. Come in. And this is the
little girl you have adopted, I suppose?
Yes, this is Anne Shirley, said Marilla.
Spelled with an E, gasped Anne, who, tremulous and excited as she was,
was determined there should be no misunderstanding on that important
point.
Mrs. Barry, not hearing or not comprehending, merely shook hands and
said kindly:
How are you?
I am well in body although considerable rumpled up in spirit, thank you
ma am, said Anne gravely. Then aside to Marilla in an audible whisper,
There wasn t anything startling in that, was there, Marilla?
Diana was sitting on the sofa, reading a book which she dropped when the
callers entered. She was a very pretty little girl, with her mother s
black eyes and hair, and rosy cheeks, and the merry expression which was
her inheritance from her father.
This is my little girl Diana, said Mrs. Barry. Diana, you might take
Anne out into the garden and show her your flowers. It will be better
for you than straining your eyes over that book. She reads entirely
too much-- this to Marilla as the little girls went out-- and I can t
prevent her, for her father aids and abets her. She s always poring over
a book. I m glad she has the prospect of a playmate--perhaps it will
take her more out-of-doors.
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