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"I don't know. Sometimes I think I'll be all right--and then I
get horribly afraid. We've studied hard and Miss Stacy has
drilled us thoroughly, but we mayn't get through for all that.
We've each got a stumbling block. Mine is geometry of course,
and Jane's is Latin, and Ruby and Charlie's is algebra, and
Josie's is arithmetic. Moody Spurgeon says he feels it in his
bones that he is going to fail in English history. Miss Stacy is
going to give us examinations in June just as hard as we'll have at
the Entrance and mark us just as strictly, so we'll have some idea.
I wish it was all over, Marilla. It haunts me. Sometimes I wake up
in the night and wonder what I'll do if I don't pass."
"Why, go to school next year and try again," said Marilla unconcernedly.
"Oh, I don't believe I'd have the heart for it. It would be such
a disgrace to fail, especially if Gil--if the others passed. And
I get so nervous in an examination that I'm likely to make a mess
of it. I wish I had nerves like Jane Andrews. Nothing rattles her."
Anne sighed and, dragging her eyes from the witcheries of the
spring world, the beckoning day of breeze and blue, and the green
things upspringing in the garden, buried herself resolutely in
her book. There would be other springs, but if she did not
succeed in passing the Entrance, Anne felt convinced that she
would never recover sufficiently to enjoy them.
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