“‘No, I couldn’t,’ he said
soberly. ’I tried to be something else for
a long time—I didn’t want to be a
minister. But I came to see at last that it was
the work given me to do—and God helping
me, I shall try to do it.’
“His voice was low and reverent. I thought
that he would do his work and do it well and nobly;
and happy the woman fitted by nature and training
to help him do it. She would be no feather,
blown about by every fickle wind of fancy. She
would always know what hat to put on. Probably
she would have only one. Ministers never have
much money. But she wouldn’t mind having
one hat or none at all, because she would have Jonas.
“Anne Shirley, don’t you dare to say or
hint or think that I’ve fallen in love with
Mr. Blake. Could I care for a lank, poor, ugly
theologue—named Jonas? As Uncle Mark
says, ’It’s impossible, and what’s
more it’s improbable.’
“Good night, Phil.”
“P.S. It is impossible—but I
am horribly afraid it’s true. I’m
happy and wretched and scared. He can never
care for me, I know. Do you think I could ever
develop into a passable minister’s wife, Anne?
And would they expect me to lead in prayer?
P G.”
Enter Prince Charming
“I’m contrasting the claims of indoors
and out,” said Anne, looking from the window
of Patty’s Place to the distant pines of the
park.
“I’ve an afternoon to spend in sweet doing
nothing, Aunt Jimsie. Shall I spend it here where
there is a cosy fire, a plateful of delicious russets,
three purring and harmonious cats, and two impeccable
china dogs with green noses? Or shall I go to
the park, where there is the lure of gray woods and
of gray water lapping on the harbor rocks?”
“If I was as young as you, I’d decide
in favor of the park,” said Aunt Jamesina, tickling
Joseph’s yellow ear with a knitting needle.
“I thought that you claimed to be as young as
any of us, Aunty,” teased Anne.
“Yes, in my soul. But I’ll admit
my legs aren’t as young as yours. You go
and get some fresh air, Anne. You look pale lately.”
“I think I’ll go to the park,” said
Anne restlessly. “I don’t feel like
tame domestic joys today. I want to feel alone
and free and wild. The park will be empty, for
every one will be at the football match.”
“Why didn’t you go to it?”
“’Nobody axed me, sir, she said’—at
least, nobody but that horrid little Dan Ranger.
I wouldn’t go anywhere with him; but rather than
hurt his poor little tender feelings I said I wasn’t
going to the game at all. I don’t mind.
I’m not in the mood for football today somehow.”
“You go and get some fresh air,” repeated
Aunt Jamesina, “but take your umbrella, for
I believe it’s going to rain. I’ve
rheumatism in my leg.”
“Only old people should have rheumatism, Aunty.”
