XVIII - Anne to the Rescue

ALL things great are wound up with all things little. At first
glance it might not seem that the decision of a certain Canadian
Premier to include Prince Edward Island in a political tour could
have much or anything to do with the fortunes of little Anne
Shirley at Green Gables. But it had.

It was a January the Premier came, to address his loyal
supporters and such of his nonsupporters as chose to be present
at the monster mass meeting held in Charlottetown. Most of the
Avonlea people were on Premier's side of politics; hence on the
night of the meeting nearly all the men and a goodly proportion
of the women had gone to town thirty miles away. Mrs. Rachel
Lynde had gone too. Mrs. Rachel Lynde was a red-hot politician
and couldn't have believed that the political rally could be
carried through without her, although she was on the opposite
side of politics. So she went to town and took her
husband--Thomas would be useful in looking after the horse--and
Marilla Cuthbert with her. Marilla had a sneaking interest in
politics herself, and as she thought it might be her only chance
to see a real live Premier, she promptly took it, leaving Anne
and Matthew to keep house until her return the following day.

Hence, while Marilla and Mrs. Rachel were enjoying themselves
hugely at the mass meeting, Anne and Matthew had the cheerful
kitchen at Green Gables all to themselves. A bright fire was
glowing in the old-fashioned Waterloo stove and blue-white frost
crystals were shining on the windowpanes. Matthew nodded over a
FARMERS' ADVOCATE on the sofa and Anne at the table studied her
lessons with grim determination, despite sundry wistful glances
at the clock shelf, where lay a new book that Jane Andrews had
lent her that day. Jane had assured her that it was warranted to
produce any number of thrills, or words to that effect, and
Anne's fingers tingled to reach out for it. But that would mean
Gilbert Blythe's triumph on the morrow. Anne turned her back on
the clock shelf and tried to imagine it wasn't there.

"Matthew, did you ever study geometry when you went to school?"

"Well now, no, I didn't," said Matthew, coming out of his doze
with a start.

"I wish you had," sighed Anne, "because then you'd be able to
sympathize with me. You can't sympathize properly if you've
never studied it. It is casting a cloud over my whole life. I'm
such a dunce at it, Matthew."

"Well now, I dunno," said Matthew soothingly. "I guess you're
all right at anything. Mr. Phillips told me last week in
Blair's store at Carmody that you was the smartest scholar in
school and was making rapid progress. `Rapid progress' was his
very words. There's them as runs down Teddy Phillips and says he
ain't much of a teacher, but I guess he's all right."

Matthew would have thought anyone who praised Anne was "all
right."

"I'm sure I'd get on better with geometry if only he wouldn't
change the letters," complained Anne. "I learn the proposition
off by heart and then he draws it on the blackboard and puts
different letters from what are in the book and I get all mixed
up. I don't think a teacher should take such a mean advantage,
do you? We're studying agriculture now and I've found out at
last what makes the roads red. It's a great comfort. I wonder
how Marilla and Mrs. Lynde are enjoying themselves. Mrs. Lynde
says Canada is going to the dogs the way things are being run at
Ottawa and that it's an awful warning to the electors. She says
if women were allowed to vote we would soon see a blessed change.
What way do you vote, Matthew?"

"Conservative," said Matthew promptly. To vote Conservative was
part of Matthew's religion.

"Then I'm Conservative too," said Anne decidedly. "I'm glad
because Gil--because some of the boys in school are Grits. I
guess Mr. Phillips is a Grit too because Prissy Andrews's father
is one, and Ruby Gillis says that when a man is courting he
always has to agree with the girl's mother in religion and her
father in politics. Is that true, Matthew?"

"Well now, I dunno," said Matthew.

"Did you ever go courting, Matthew?"

"Well now, no, I dunno's I ever did," said Matthew, who had
certainly never thought of such a thing in his whole existence.

Anne reflected with her chin in her hands.

"It must be rather interesting, don't you think, Matthew? Ruby
Gillis says when she grows up she's going to have ever so many
beaus on the string and have them all crazy about her; but I
think that would be too exciting. I'd rather have just one in
his right mind. But Ruby Gillis knows a great deal about such
matters because she has so many big sisters, and Mrs. Lynde says
the Gillis girls have gone off like hot cakes. Mr. Phillips
goes up to see Prissy Andrews nearly every evening. He says it
is to help her with her lessons but Miranda Sloane is studying
for Queen's too, and I should think she needed help a lot more
than Prissy because she's ever so much stupider, but he never
goes to help her in the evenings at all. There are a great many
things in this world that I can't understand very well, Matthew."

"Well now, I dunno as I comprehend them all myself," acknowledged Matthew.

"Well, I suppose I must finish up my lessons. I won't allow
myself to open that new book Jane lent me until I'm through. But
it's a terrible temptation, Matthew. Even when I turn my back on
it I can see it there just as plain. Jane said she cried herself
sick over it. I love a book that makes me cry. But I think I'll
carry that book into the sitting room and lock it in the jam
closet and give you the key. And you must NOT give it to me,
Matthew, until my lessons are done, not even if I implore you on
my bended knees. It's all very well to say resist temptation,
but it's ever so much easier to resist it if you can't get the
key. And then shall I run down the cellar and get some russets,
Matthew? Wouldn't you like some russets?"

"Well now, I dunno but what I would," said Matthew, who never ate
russets but knew Anne's weakness for them.

Just as Anne emerged triumphantly from the cellar with her
plateful of russets came the sound of flying footsteps on the icy
board walk outside and the next moment the kitchen door was flung
open and in rushed Diana Barry, white faced and breathless, with
a shawl wrapped hastily around her head. Anne promptly let go of
her candle and plate in her surprise, and plate, candle, and
apples crashed together down the cellar ladder and were found at
the bottom embedded in melted grease, the next day, by Marilla,
who gathered them up and thanked mercy the house hadn't been set
on fire.

"Whatever is the matter, Diana?" cried Anne. "Has your mother
relented at last?"

"Oh, Anne, do come quick," implored Diana nervously. "Minnie May
is awful sick--she's got croup. Young Mary Joe says--and Father
and Mother are away to town and there's nobody to go for the
doctor. Minnie May is awful bad and Young Mary Joe doesn't know
what to do--and oh, Anne, I'm so scared!"

Matthew, without a word, reached out for cap and coat, slipped
past Diana and away into the darkness of the yard.

"He's gone to harness the sorrel mare to go to Carmody for the
doctor," said Anne, who was hurrying on hood and jacket. "I know
it as well as if he'd said so. Matthew and I are such kindred
spirits I can read his thoughts without words at all."

"I don't believe he'll find the doctor at Carmody," sobbed Diana.
"I know that Dr. Blair went to town and I guess Dr. Spencer
would go too. Young Mary Joe never saw anybody with croup and
Mrs. Lynde is away. Oh, Anne!"

"Don't cry, Di," said Anne cheerily. "I know exactly what to do
for croup. You forget that Mrs. Hammond had twins three times.
When you look after three pairs of twins you naturally get a lot
of experience. They all had croup regularly. Just wait till I
get the ipecac bottle--you mayn't have any at your house. Come
on now."

The two little girls hastened out hand in hand and hurried
through Lover's Lane and across the crusted field beyond, for the
snow was too deep to go by the shorter wood way. Anne, although
sincerely sorry for Minnie May, was far from being insensible to
the romance of the situation and to the sweetness of once more
sharing that romance with a kindred spirit.

The night was clear and frosty, all ebony of shadow and silver of
snowy slope; big stars were shining over the silent fields; here
and there the dark pointed firs stood up with snow powdering
their branches and the wind whistling through them. Anne thought
it was truly delightful to go skimming through all this mystery
and loveliness with your bosom friend who had been so long
estranged.

Minnie May, aged three, was really very sick. She lay on the
kitchen sofa feverish and restless, while her hoarse breathing
could be heard all over the house. Young Mary Joe, a buxom,
broad-faced French girl from the creek, whom Mrs. Barry had
engaged to stay with the children during her absence, was
helpless and bewildered, quite incapable of thinking what to do,
or doing it if she thought of it.

Anne went to work with skill and promptness.

"Minnie May has croup all right; she's pretty bad, but I've seen
them worse. First we must have lots of hot water. I declare,
Diana, there isn't more than a cupful in the kettle! There, I've
filled it up, and, Mary Joe, you may put some wood in the stove.
I don't want to hurt your feelings but it seems to me you might
have thought of this before if you'd any imagination. Now, I'll
undress Minnie May and put her to bed and you try to find some
soft flannel cloths, Diana. I'm going to give her a dose of
ipecac first of all."

Minnie May did not take kindly to the ipecac but Anne had not
brought up three pairs of twins for nothing. Down that ipecac
went, not only once, but many times during the long, anxious
night when the two little girls worked patiently over the
suffering Minnie May, and Young Mary Joe, honestly anxious to do
all she could, kept up a roaring fire and heated more water than
would have been needed for a hospital of croupy babies.

It was three o'clock when Matthew came with a doctor, for he had
been obliged to go all the way to Spencervale for one. But the
pressing need for assistance was past. Minnie May was much
better and was sleeping soundly.

"I was awfully near giving up in despair," explained Anne. "She
got worse and worse until she was sicker than ever the Hammond
twins were, even the last pair. I actually thought she was going
to choke to death. I gave her every drop of ipecac in that
bottle and when the last dose went down I said to myself--not to
Diana or Young Mary Joe, because I didn't want to worry them any
more than they were worried, but I had to say it to myself just
to relieve my feelings--`This is the last lingering hope and I
fear, tis a vain one.' But in about three minutes she coughed up
the phlegm and began to get better right away. You must just
imagine my relief, doctor, because I can't express it in words.
You know there are some things that cannot be expressed in words."

"Yes, I know," nodded the doctor. He looked at Anne as if he
were thinking some things about her that couldn't be expressed in
words. Later on, however, he expressed them to Mr. and Mrs. Barry.

"That little redheaded girl they have over at Cuthbert's is as
smart as they make 'em. I tell you she saved that baby's life,
for it would have been too late by the time I got there. She
seems to have a skill and presence of mind perfectly wonderful in
a child of her age. I never saw anything like the eyes of her
when she was explaining the case to me."

Anne had gone home in the wonderful, white-frosted winter
morning, heavy eyed from loss of sleep, but still talking
unweariedly to Matthew as they crossed the long white field and
walked under the glittering fairy arch of the Lover's Lane
maples.

"Oh, Matthew, isn't it a wonderful morning? The world looks like
something God had just imagined for His own pleasure, doesn't it?
Those trees look as if I could blow them away with a
breath--pouf! I'm so glad I live in a world where there are white
frosts, aren't you? And I'm so glad Mrs. Hammond had three pairs
of twins after all. If she hadn't I mightn't have known what to
do for Minnie May. I'm real sorry I was ever cross with Mrs.
Hammond for having twins. But, oh, Matthew, I'm so sleepy. I
can't go to school. I just know I couldn't keep my eyes open and
I'd be so stupid. But I hate to stay home, for Gil--some of the
others will get head of the class, and it's so hard to get up
again--although of course the harder it is the more satisfaction
you have when you do get up, haven't you?"

"Well now, I guess you'll manage all right," said Matthew,
looking at Anne's white little face and the dark shadows under
her eyes. "You just go right to bed and have a good sleep. I'll
do all the chores."

Anne accordingly went to bed and slept so long and soundly that
it was well on in the white and rosy winter afternoon when she
awoke and descended to the kitchen where Marilla, who had arrived
home in the meantime, was sitting knitting.

"Oh, did you see the Premier?" exclaimed Anne at once. "What did
he look like Marilla?"

"Well, he never got to be Premier on account of his looks," said
Marilla. "Such a nose as that man had! But he can speak. I was
proud of being a Conservative. Rachel Lynde, of course, being a
Liberal, had no use for him. Your dinner is in the oven, Anne,
and you can get yourself some blue plum preserve out of the
pantry. I guess you're hungry. Matthew has been telling me
about last night. I must say it was fortunate you knew what to
do. I wouldn't have had any idea myself, for I never saw a case
of croup. There now, never mind talking till you've had your
dinner. I can tell by the look of you that you're just full
up with speeches, but they'll keep."

Marilla had something to tell Anne, but she did not tell it just
then for she knew if she did Anne's consequent excitement would
lift her clear out of the region of such material matters as
appetite or dinner. Not until Anne had finished her saucer of
blue plums did Marilla say:

"Mrs. Barry was here this afternoon, Anne. She wanted to see
you, but I wouldn't wake you up. She says you saved Minnie May's
life, and she is very sorry she acted as she did in that affair
of the currant wine. She says she knows now you didn't mean to
set Diana drunk, and she hopes you'll forgive her and be good
friends with Diana again. You're to go over this evening if you
like for Diana can't stir outside the door on account of a bad
cold she caught last night. Now, Anne Shirley, for pity's sake
don't fly up into the air."

The warning seemed not unnecessary, so uplifted and aerial was
Anne's expression and attitude as she sprang to her feet, her
face irradiated with the flame of her spirit.

"Oh, Marilla, can I go right now--without washing my dishes?
I'll wash them when I come back, but I cannot tie myself down to
anything so unromantic as dishwashing at this thrilling moment."

"Yes, yes, run along," said Marilla indulgently. "Anne
Shirley--are you crazy? Come back this instant and put something
on you. I might as well call to the wind. She's gone without a
cap or wrap. Look at her tearing through the orchard with her
hair streaming. It'll be a mercy if she doesn't catch her death
of cold."

Anne came dancing home in the purple winter twilight across the
snowy places. Afar in the southwest was the great shimmering,
pearl-like sparkle of an evening star in a sky that was pale
golden and ethereal rose over gleaming white spaces and dark
glens of spruce. The tinkles of sleigh bells among the snowy
hills came like elfin chimes through the frosty air, but their
music was not sweeter than the song in Anne's heart and on her
lips.

"You see before you a perfectly happy person, Marilla," she
announced. "I'm perfectly happy--yes, in spite of my red hair.
Just at present I have a soul above red hair. Mrs. Barry kissed
me and cried and said she was so sorry and she could never repay
me. I felt fearfully embarrassed, Marilla, but I just said as
politely as I could, `I have no hard feelings for you, Mrs.
Barry. I assure you once for all that I did not mean to
intoxicate Diana and henceforth I shall cover the past with the
mantle of oblivion.' That was a pretty dignified way of speaking
wasn't it, Marilla?"

"I felt that I was heaping coals of fire on Mrs. Barry's head.
And Diana and I had a lovely afternoon. Diana showed me a new
fancy crochet stitch her aunt over at Carmody taught her. Not a
soul in Avonlea knows it but us, and we pledged a solemn vow
never to reveal it to anyone else. Diana gave me a beautiful
card with a wreath of roses on it and a verse of poetry:


"If you love me as I love you
Nothing but death can part us two.


And that is true, Marilla. We're going to ask Mr. Phillips to
let us sit together in school again, and Gertie Pye can go with
Minnie Andrews. We had an elegant tea. Mrs. Barry had the very
best china set out, Marilla, just as if I was real company. I
can't tell you what a thrill it gave me. Nobody ever used their
very best china on my account before. And we had fruit cake and
pound cake and doughnuts and two kinds of preserves, Marilla.
And Mrs. Barry asked me if I took tea and said `Pa, why don't
you pass the biscuits to Anne?' It must be lovely to be grown up,
Marilla, when just being treated as if you were is so nice."

"I don't know about that," said Marilla, with a brief sigh.

"Well, anyway, when I am grown up," said Anne decidedly, "I'm
always going to talk to little girls as if they were too, and
I'll never laugh when they use big words. I know from sorrowful
experience how that hurts one's feelings. After tea Diana and I
made taffy. The taffy wasn't very good, I suppose because
neither Diana nor I had ever made any before. Diana left me to
stir it while she buttered the plates and I forgot and let it
burn; and then when we set it out on the platform to cool the cat
walked over one plate and that had to be thrown away. But the
making of it was splendid fun. Then when I came home Mrs. Barry
asked me to come over as often as I could and Diana stood at the
window and threw kisses to me all the way down to Lover's Lane.
I assure you, Marilla, that I feel like praying tonight and I'm
going to think out a special brand-new prayer in honor of the
occasion."