Anne of Windy Poplars - L. M. Montgomery [70]
Anne was amazed at Katherine’s good looks when they went in. Her complexion was radiant after her long walk in the keen air, and colour made all the difference in the world to her.
‘Why, Katherine would be handsome if she wore the right kind of hats and dresses,’ reflected Anne, trying to imagine Katherine with a certain richly dark velvet hat she had seen in a Summerside shop on her black hair and pulled over her amber eyes. ‘I’ve simply got to see what can be done about it.’
6
Saturday and Monday were full of gay doings at Green Gables. The plum pudding was concocted and the Christmas tree brought home. Katherine and Anne and Davy and Dora went to the woods for it, a beautiful little fir to whose cutting down Anne was only reconciled by the fact that it was in a little clearing of Mr Harrison’s which was going to be stumped and ploughed in the spring, anyhow.
They wandered about, gathering creeping spruce and ground pine for wreaths, even some ferns that kept green in a certain deep hollow of the woods all the winter, until day smiled back at night over white-bosomed hills, and they came back to Green Gables in triumph, to meet a tall young man with hazel eyes and the beginnings of a moustache which made him look so much older and maturer that Anne had one awful moment of wondering if it really was Gilbert or a stranger.
Katherine, with a little smile that tried to be sarcastic, but couldn’t quite succeed, left them in the parlour and played games with the twins in the kitchen all the evening. To her amazement she found she was enjoying it. And what fun it was to go down the cellar with Davy and find that there were really such things as sweet apples still left in the world!
Katherine had never been in a country cellar before, and had no idea what a delightful spooky, shadowy place it could be by candlelight. Life already seemed warmer. For the first time it came home to Katherine that life might be beautiful even for her.
Davy made enough noise to wake the Seven Sleepers at an unearthly hour Christmas morning, ringing an old cow-bell up and down the stairs. Marilla was horrified at his doing such a thing when there was a guest in the house, but Katherine came down laughing. Somehow an odd camaraderie had sprung up between her and Davy. She told Anne candidly that she had no use for the impeccable Dora, but that Davy was somehow tarred with her own brush.
They opened the parlour and distributed the gifts before breakfast, because the twins – even Dora – couldn’t have eaten anything if they hadn’t. Katherine, who had not expected anything, except, perhaps a duty gift from Anne, found herself getting presents from everyone: a gay, crocheted afghan from Mrs Lynde, a sachet of orris-root from Dora, a paper-knife from Davy, a basketful of tiny jars of jam and jelly from Marilla, even a little bronze Chessy cat for a paperweight from Gilbert. And, tied under the tree, curled up on a bit of warm and woolly blanket, a dear little brown-eyed puppy, with alert, silken ears and an ingratiating tail. A card tied to his neck bore the legend, ‘From Anne, who dares, after all, to wish you a Merry Christmas.’
Katherine gathered his wriggling little body up in her arms and spoke shakily. ‘Anne, he’s a darling! But Mrs Dennis won’t let me keep him. I asked her if I might get a dog, and she refused.’
‘I’ve arranged it all with Mrs Dennis. You’ll find she won’t object. And, anyway, Katherine, you’re not going to be there long. You must find a decent place to live, now that you’ve paid off what you thought were your obligations. Look at the lovely box of stationery Diana sent me. Isn’t it fascinating to look at the blank pages and wonder what will be