Anne of Avonlea - L. M. Montgomery [18]
“Oh, Eliza, young folks must have some amusement,” protested Catherine.
“I don’t see the necessity. We didn’t gad about to halls and places when we were young, Catherine Andrews. This world is getting worse every day.”
“I think it’s getting better,” said Catherine firmly.
“You think!” Miss Eliza’s voice expressed the utmost contempt. “It doesn’t signify what you think, Catherine Andrews. Facts is facts.”
“Well, I always like to look on the bright side, Eliza.”
“There isn’t any bright side.”
“Oh, indeed there is,” cried Anne, who couldn’t endure such heresy in silence. “Why, there are ever so many bright sides, Miss Andrews. It’s really a beautiful world.”
“You won’t have such a high opinion of it when you’ve lived as long in it as I have,” retorted Miss Eliza sourly, “and you won’t be so enthusiastic about improving it either. How is your mother, Diana? Dear me, but she has failed of late. She looks terrible run down. And how long is it before Marilla expects to be stone blind, Anne?”
“The doctor thinks her eyes will not get any worse if she is very careful,” faltered Anne.
Eliza shook her head.
“Doctors always talk like that just to keep people cheered up. I wouldn’t have much hope if I was her. It’s best to be prepared for the worst.”
“But oughtn’t we be prepared for the best too?” pleaded Anne. “It’s just as likely to happen as the worst.”
“Not in my experience, and I’ve fifty-seven years to set against your sixteen,” retorted Eliza. “Going, are you? Well, I hope this new society of yours will be able to keep Avonlea from running any further downhill but I haven’t much hope of it.”
Anne and Diana got themselves thankfully out, and drove away as fast as the fat pony could go. As they rounded the curve below the beech wood a plump figure came speeding over Mr. Andrews’ pasture, waving to them excitedly. It was Catherine Andrews, and she was so out of breath that she could hardly speak, but she thrust a couple of quarters into Anne’s hand.
“That’s my contribution to painting the hall,” she gasped. “I’d like to give you a dollar but I don’t dare take more from my egg money, for Eliza would find it out if I did. I’m real interested in your society and I believe you’re going to do a lot of good. I’m an optimist. I have to be, living with Eliza. I must hurry back before she misses me…she thinks I’m feeding the hens. I hope you’ll have good luck canvassing, and don’t be cast down over what Eliza said. The world is getting better…it certainly is.”
The next house was Daniel Blair’s.
“Now, it all depends on whether his wife is home or not,” said Diana, as they jolted along a deep-rutted lane. “If she is we won’t get a cent. Everybody says Dan Blair doesn’t dare have his hair cut without asking her permission; and it’s certain she’s very close, to state it moderately. She says she has to be just before she’s generous. But Mrs. Lynde says she’s so much ‘before’ that generosity never catches up with her at all.”
Anne related their experience at the Blair place to Marilla that evening.
“We tied the horse and then rapped at the kitchen door. Nobody came, but the door was open and we could hear somebody in the pantry, going on dreadfully. We couldn’t make out the words but Diana says she knows they were swearing by the sound of them. I can’t believe that of Mr. Blair, for he is always so quiet and meek; but at least he had great provocation, for Marilla, when that poor man came to the door, red as a beet, with perspiration streaming down his face, he had on one of his wife’s big gingham aprons. ‘I can’t get this durned thing off,’ he said, ‘for the strings are tied in a hard knot, and I can’t bust ’em, so you’ll have to excuse me, ladies.’ We begged him not to mention it and went in and sat down. Mr. Blair sat down too; he twisted the apron around to his back and rolled it up, but he did look so ashamed and worried that I felt sorry for him, and Diana said she feared we had called at an inconvenient time.