in a hurry to get these spuds done tonight. I suppose you two LADIES never do anything like this. You’d be afraid of spoiling your hands.”
“I used to cut potato sets before we rented the farm,” smiled Anne.
“I do it yet,” laughed Diana. “I cut sets three days last week. Of course,” she added teasingly, “I did my hands up in lemon juice and kid gloves every night after it.”
Aunt Atossa sniffed.
“I suppose you got that notion out of some of those silly magazines you read so many of. I wonder your mother allows you. But she always spoiled you. We all thought when George married her she wouldn’t be a suitable wife for him.”
Aunt Atossa sighed heavily, as if all forebodings upon the occasion of George Barry’s marriage had been amply and darkly fulfilled.
“Going, are you?” she inquired, as the girls rose. “Well, I suppose you can’t find much amusement talking to an old woman like me. It’s such a pity the boys ain’t home.”
“We want to run in and see Ruby Gillis a little while,” explained Diana.
“Oh, anything does for an excuse, of course,” said Aunt Atossa, amiably. “Just whip in and whip out before you have time to say how-do decently. It’s college airs, I s’pose. You’d be wiser to keep away from Ruby Gillis. The doctors say consumption’s catching. I always knew Ruby’d get something, gadding off to Boston last fall for a visit. People who ain’t content to stay home always catch something.”
“People who don’t go visiting catch things, too. Sometimes they even die,” said Diana solemnly.
“Then they don’t have themselves to blame for it,” retorted Aunt Atossa triumphantly. “I hear you are to be married in June, Diana.”
“There is no truth in that report,” said Diana, blushing.
“Well, don’t put it off too long,” said Aunt Atossa significantly. “You’ll fade soon — you’re all complexion and hair. And the Wrights are terrible fickle. You ought to wear a hat, MISS SHIRLEY. Your nose is freckling scandalous. My, but you ARE redheaded! Well, I s’pose we’re all as the Lord made us! Give Marilla Cuthbert my respects. She’s never been to see me since I come to Avonlea, but I s’pose I oughtn’t to complain. The Cuthberts always did think themselves a cut higher than any one else round here.”
“Oh, isn’t she dreadful?” gasped Diana, as they escaped down the lane.
“She’s worse than Miss Eliza Andrews,” said Anne. “But then think of living all your life with a name like Atossa! Wouldn’t it sour almost any one? She should have tried to imagine her name was Cordelia. It might have helped her a great deal. It certainly helped me in the days when I didn’t like ANNE.”
“Josie Pye will be just like her when she grows up,” said Diana. “Josie’s mother and Aunt Atossa are cousins, you know. Oh, dear, I’m glad that’s over. She’s so malicious — she seems to put a bad flavor in everything. Father tells such a funny story about her. One time they had a minister in Spencervale who was a very good, spiritual man but very deaf. He couldn’t hear any ordinary conversation at all. Well, they used to have a prayer meeting on Sunday evenings, and all the church members present would get up and pray in turn, or say a few words on some Bible verse. But one evening Aunt Atossa bounced up. She didn’t either pray or preach. Instead, she lit into everybody else in the church and gave them a fearful raking down, calling them right out by name and telling them how they all had behaved, and casting up all the quarrels and scandals of the past ten years. Finally she wound up by saying that she was disgusted with Spencervale church and she never meant to darken its door again, and she hoped a fearful judgment would come upon it. Then she sat down out of breath, and the minister, who hadn’t heard a word she said, immediately remarked, in a very devout voice, ‘amen! The Lord grant our dear sister’s prayer!’ You ought to hear father tell the story.”
“Speaking of stories, Diana,” remarked Anne, in a significant, confidential tone, “do you know that lately I have been wondering if I could write a short story — a story that would be good enough to be published?”
“Why, of course you could,” said Diana, after she had grasped the amazing suggestion. “You used to write perfectly thrilling stories years ago in our old Story Club.”
“Well, I hardly meant one of that kind of stories,” smiled Anne. “I’ve been thinking about it a little of late, but I’m almost afraid to try, for, if I should fail, it would be too humiliating.”
“I heard Priscilla say once that all Mrs. Morgan’s first stories were rejected. But I’m sure yours wouldn’t be, Anne, for it’s likely editors have more sense nowadays.”
“Margaret Burton, one of the Junior girls at Redmond, wrote a story last winter and it was published in the Canadian Woman. I really do think I could write one at least as good.”
“And will you have it published in the Canadian Woman?”
“I might try one of the bigger magazines first. It all depends on what kind of a story I write.”
“What is it to be about?”
“I don’t know yet. I want to get hold of a good plot. I believe this is very necessary from an editor’s point of view. The only thing I’ve settled on is the heroine’s name. It is to be AVERIL LESTER. Rather pretty, don’t you think? Don’t mention this to any one, Diana. I haven’t told anybody but you and Mr. Harrison. HE wasn’t very encouraging — he said there was far too much trash written nowadays as it was, and he’d expected something better of me, after a year at college.”
“What does Mr. Harrison know about it?” demanded Diana scornfully.
They found the Gillis home gay with lights and callers. Leonard Kimball, of Spencervale, and Morgan Bell, of Carmody, were glaring at each other across the parlor. Several merry girls had dropped in. Ruby was dressed in white and her eyes and cheeks were very brilliant. She laughed and chattered incessantly, and after the other girls had gone she took Anne upstairs to display her new summer dresses.
“I’ve a blue silk to make up yet, but it’s a little heavy for summer wear. I think I’ll leave it until the fall. I’m going to teach in White Sands, you know. How do you like my hat? That one you had on in church yesterday was real dinky. But I like something brighter for myself. Did you notice those two ridiculous boys downstairs? They’ve both come determined to sit each other out. I don’t care a single bit about either of them, you know. Herb Spencer is the one I like. Sometimes I really do think he’s MR. RIGHT. At Christmas I thought the Spencervale schoolmaster was that. But I found out something about him that turned me against him. He nearly went insane when I turned him down. I wish those two boys hadn’t come tonight. I wanted to have a nice good talk with you, Anne, and tell you such heaps of things. You and I were always good chums, weren’t we?”
Ruby slipped her arm about Anne’s waist with a shallow little laugh. But just for a moment their eyes met, and, behind all the luster of Ruby’s, Anne saw something that made her heart ache.
“Come up often, won’t you, Anne?” whispered Ruby. “Come alone — I want you.”
“Are you feeling quite well, Ruby?”
“Me! Why, I’m perfectly well. I never felt better
