Chapter XII - Page 2

"Now, don't get into a fluster. And I do wish you wouldn't
use such long words. It sounds so funny in a little girl.
I guess Diana'll like you well enough. It's her mother
you've got to reckon with. If she doesn't like you it won't
matter how much Diana does. If she has heard about your
outburst to Mrs. Lynde and going to church with buttercups
round your hat I don't know what she'll think of you. You
must be polite and well behaved, and don't make any of your
startling speeches. For pity's sake, if the child isn't
actually trembling!"

Anne WAS trembling. Her face was pale and tense.

"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."

Outside in the garden, which was full of mellow sunset
light streaming through the dark old firs to the west of it,
stood Anne and Diana, gazing bashfully at each other over
a clump of gorgeous tiger lilies.

The Barry garden