Chapter XIX - Page 2

surprised at Mrs. Barry's letting
Diana go."

"But it's such a very special occasion," mourned Anne, on the
verge of tears. "Diana has only one birthday in a year. It
isn't as if birthdays were common things, Marilla. Prissy
Andrews is going to recite 'Curfew Must Not Ring Tonight.' That
is such a good moral piece, Marilla, I'm sure it would do me lots
of good to hear it. And the choir are going to sing four lovely
pathetic songs that are pretty near as good as hymns. And oh,
Marilla, the minister is going to take part; yes, indeed,
he is; he's going to give an address. That will be just about
the same thing as a sermon. Please, mayn't I go, Marilla?"

"You heard what I said, Anne, didn't you? Take off your boots
now and go to bed. It's past eight."

"There's just one more thing, Marilla," said Anne, with the air
of producing the last shot in her locker. "Mrs. Barry told
Diana that we might sleep in the spare-room bed. Think of the
honor of your little Anne being put in the spare-room bed."

"It's an honor you'll have to get along without. Go to bed,
Anne, and don't let me hear another word out of you."

When Anne, with tears rolling over her cheeks, had gone
sorrowfully upstairs, Matthew, who had been apparently sound
asleep on the lounge during the whole dialogue, opened his eyes
and said decidedly:

"Well now, Marilla, I think you ought to let Anne go."

"I don't then," retorted Marilla. "Who's bringing this child up,
Matthew, you or me?"

"Well now, you," admitted Matthew.

"Don't interfere then."

"Well now, I ain't interfering. It ain't interfering to have
your own opinion. And my opinion is that you ought to let Anne
go."

"You'd think I ought to let Anne go to the moon if she took the
notion, I've no doubt" was Marilla's amiable rejoinder. "I might
have let her spend the night with Diana, if that was all. But I
don't approve of this concert plan. She'd go there and catch
cold like as not, and have her head filled up with nonsense and
excitement. It would unsettle her for a week. I understand that
child's disposition and what's good for it better than you,
Matthew."

"I think you ought to let Anne go," repeated Matthew firmly.
Argument was not his strong point, but holding fast to his
opinion certainly was. Marilla gave a gasp of helplessness and
took refuge in silence. The next morning, when Anne was washing
the breakfast dishes in the pantry, Matthew paused on his way out
to the barn to say to Marilla again:

"I think you ought to let Anne go, Marilla."

For a moment Marilla looked things not lawful to be uttered.
Then she yielded to the inevitable and said tartly:

"Very well, she can go,