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"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, since nothing else'll please you."
Anne flew out of the pantry, dripping dishcloth in hand.
"Oh, Marilla, Marilla, say those blessed words again."
"I guess once is enough to say them. This is Matthew's doings
and I wash my hands of it. If you catch pneumonia sleeping in a
strange bed or coming out of that hot hall in the middle of the
night, don't blame me, blame Matthew. Anne Shirley, you're
dripping greasy water all over the floor. I never saw such a
careless child."
"Oh, I know I'm a great trial to you, Marilla," said Anne
repentantly. "I make so many mistakes. But then just think of
all the mistakes I don't make, although I might. I'll get some
sand and scrub up the spots before I go to school. Oh, Marilla,
my heart was just set on going to that concert. I never was to a
concert in my life, and when the other girls talk about them in
school I feel so out of it. You didn't know just how I felt
about it, but you see Matthew did. Matthew understands me, and
it's so nice to be understood, Marilla."
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