Anne of the Island | Page 8

of her big gray eyes. She had
worked hard and faithfully for the A.V.I.S., and it warmed the cockles
of her heart that the members appreciated her efforts so sincerely. And
they were all so nice and friendly and jolly -- even the Pye girls had
their merits; at that moment Anne loved all the world.
She enjoyed the evening tremendously, but the end of it rather spoiled
all. Gilbert again made the mistake of saying something sentimental to
her as they ate their supper on the moonlit verandah; and Anne, to
punish him, was gracious to Charlie Sloane and allowed the latter to
walk home with her. She found, however, that revenge hurts nobody
quite so much as the one who tries to inflict it. Gilbert walked airily off
with Ruby Gillis, and Anne could hear them laughing and talking gaily
as they loitered along in the still, crisp autumn air. They were evidently
having the best of good times, while she was horribly bored by Charlie
Sloane, who talked unbrokenly on, and never, even by accident, said
one thing that was worth listening to. Anne gave an occasional absent
"yes" or "no," and thought how beautiful Ruby had looked that night,
how very goggly Charlie's eyes were in the moonlight -- worse even
than by daylight -- and that the world, somehow, wasn't quite such a
nice place as she had believed it to be earlier in the evening.
"I'm just tired out -- that is what is the matter with me," she said, when
she thankfully found herself alone in her own room. And she honestly
believed it was. But a certain little gush of joy, as from some secret,
unknown spring, bubbled up in her heart the next evening, when she
saw Gilbert striding down through the Haunted Wood and crossing the
old log bridge with that firm, quick step of his. So Gilbert was not
going to spend this last evening with Ruby Gillis after all!
"You look tired, Anne," he said.
"I am tired, and, worse than that, I'm disgruntled. I'm tired because I've

been packing my trunk and sewing all day. But I'm disgruntled because
six women have been here to say good-bye to me, and every one of the
six managed to say something that seemed to take the color right out of
life and leave it as gray and dismal and cheerless as a November
morning."
"Spiteful old cats!" was Gilbert's elegant comment.
"Oh, no, they weren't," said Anne seriously. "That is just the trouble. If
they had been spiteful cats I wouldn't have minded them. But they are
all nice, kind, motherly souls, who like me and whom I like, and that is
why what they said, or hinted, had such undue weight with me. They
let me see they thought I was crazy going to Redmond and trying to
take a B.A., and ever since I've been wondering if I am. Mrs. Peter
Sloane sighed and said she hoped my strength would hold out till I got
through; and at once I saw myself a hopeless victim of nervous
prostration at the end of my third year; Mrs. Eben Wright said it must
cost an awful lot to put in four years at Redmond; and I felt all over me
that it was unpardonable of me to squander Marilla's money and my
own on such a folly. Mrs. Jasper Bell said she hoped I wouldn't let
college spoil me, as it did some people; and I felt in my bones that the
end of my four Redmond years would see me a most insufferable
creature, thinking I knew it all, and looking down on everything and
everybody in Avonlea; Mrs. Elisha Wright said she understood that
Redmond girls, especially those who belonged to Kingsport, were
'dreadful dressy and stuck-up,' and she guessed I wouldn't feel much at
home among them; and I saw myself, a snubbed, dowdy, humiliated
country girl, shuffling through Redmond's classic halls in coppertoned
boots."
Anne ended with a laugh and a sigh commingled. With her sensitive
nature all disapproval had weight, even the disapproval of those for
whose opinions she had scant respect. For the time being life was
savorless, and ambition had gone out like a snuffed candle.
"You surely don't care for what they said," protested Gilbert. "You
know exactly how narrow their outlook on life is, excellent creatures
though they are. To do anything THEY have never done is anathema

maranatha. You are the first Avonlea girl who has ever gone to college;
and you know that all pioneers are considered to be afflicted with
moonstruck madness."
"Oh, I know. But FEELING is so different from KNOWING. My
common sense tells me all you can say, but there are times when
common sense has