Anne was charging through the grain like a mad thing. Diana hopped briskly down, tied the horse securely to a post, turned the skirt of her pretty gingham dress over her shoulders, mounted the fence, and started in pursuit of her frantic friend. She could run faster than Anne, who was hampered by her clinging and drenched skirt, and soon overtook her. Behind them they left a trail that would break Mr. Harrisons heart when he should see it.
Anne, for mercys sake, stop, panted poor Diana. Im right out of breath and you are wet to the skin.
I must get that cow out before Mr. Harrison sees her, gasped Anne. I dont care if Im drowned if we
can only do that.
But the Jersey cow appeared to see no good reason for being hustled out of her luscious browsing ground. No sooner had the two breathless girls got near her than she turned and bolted squarely for the opposite corner of the field.
Head her off, screamed Anne. Run, Diana, run.
Diana did run. Anne tried to, and the wicked Jersey went around the field as if she were possessed. Privately, Diana thought she was. It was fully ten minutes before they headed her off and drove her through the corner gap into the Cuthbert lane.
There is no denying that Anne was in anything but an angelic temper at that precise moment. Nor did it soothe her in the least to behold a buggy halted just outside the lane, wherein sat Mr. Shearer of Carmody and his son, both of whom wore a broad smile.
I guess youd better have sold me that cow when I wanted to buy her last week, Anne, chuckled Mr. Shearer.
Ill sell her to you now, if you want her, said her flushed and disheveled owner. You may have her this very minute.
Done. Ill give you twenty for her as I offered before, and Jim here can drive her right over to Carmody. Shell go to town with the rest of the shipment this evening. Mr. Reed of Brighton wants a Jersey cow.
Five minutes later Jim Shearer and the Jersey cow were marching up the road, and impulsive Anne was driving along the Green Gables lane with her twenty dollars.
What will Marilla say? asked Diana.
Oh, she wont care. Dolly was my own cow and it isnt likely shed bring more than twenty dollars at the auction. But oh dear, if Mr. Harrison sees that grain he will know she has been in again, and after my giving him my word of honor that Id never let it happen! Well, it has taught me a lesson not to give my word of honor about cows. A cow that could jump over or break through our milk-pen fence couldnt be trusted anywhere.
Marilla had gone down to Mrs. Lyndes, and when she returned knew all about Dollys sale and transfer, for Mrs. Lynde had seen most of the transaction from her window and guessed the rest.
I suppose its just as well shes gone, though you do do things in a dreadful headlong fashion, Anne. I dont see how she got out of the pen, though. She must have broken some of the boards off.
I didnt think of looking, said Anne, but Ill go and see now. Martin has never come back yet. Perhaps some more of his aunts have died. I think its something like Mr. Peter Sloane and the octogenarians. The other evening Mrs. Sloane was reading a newspaper and she said to Mr. Sloane, I see here that another octogenarian has just died. What is an octogenarian, Peter? And Mr. Sloane said he didnt know, but they must be very sickly creatures, for you never heard tell of them but they were dying. Thats the way with Martins aunts.
Martins just like all the rest of those French, said Marilla in disgust. You cant depend on them for a day. Marilla was looking over Annes Carmody purchases when she heard a shrill shriek in the barnyard. A minute later Anne dashed into the kitchen, wringing her hands.
Anne Shirley, whats the matter now?
Oh, Marilla, whatever shall I do? This is terrible. And its all my fault. Oh, will I ever learn to stop and reflect a little before doing reckless things? Mrs. Lynde always told me I would do something dreadful some day, and now Ive done it!
Anne, you are the most exasperating girl! What is it youve done?
Sold Mr. Harrisons Jersey cow the one he bought from Mr. Bell to Mr. Shearer! Dolly is out in the milking pen this very minute.
Anne Shirley, are you dreaming?
I only wish I were. Theres no dream about it, though its very like a nightmare. And Mr. Harrisons cow is in Charlottetown by this time. Oh, Marilla, I thought Id finished getting into scrapes, and here I am in the very worst one I ever was in in my life. What can I do?
Do? Theres nothing to do, child, except go and see Mr. Harrison about it. We can offer him our Jersey in exchange if he doesnt want to take the money. She is just as good as his.
Im sure hell be awfully cross and disagreeable about it, though, moaned Anne.
I daresay he will. He seems to be an irritable sort of a man. Ill go and explain to him if you like.
No, indeed, Im not as mean as that, exclaimed Anne. This is all my fault and Im certainly not going to let you take my punishment. Ill go myself and Ill go at once. The sooner its over the better, for it will be terribly humiliating.
Poor Anne got her hat and her twenty dollars and was passing out when she happened to glance through the open pantry door. On the table reposed a nut cake which she had baked that morning a particularly toothsome concoction iced with pink icing and adorned with walnuts. Anne had intended it for Friday evening, when the youth of Avonlea were to meet at Green Gables to organize the Improvement Society. But what were they compared to the justly offended Mr. Harrison? Anne thought that cake ought to soften the heart of any man, especially one who had to do his own cooking, and she promptly popped it into a box. She would take it to Mr. Harrison as a peace offering.
That is, if he gives me a chance to say anything at all, she thought ruefully, as she climbed the lane fence and started on a short cut across the fields, golden in the light of the dreamy August evening. I know now just how people feel who are being led to execution.
Chapter III
Mr. Harrison at Home
Mr. Harrisons house was an old-fashioned, low-eaved, whitewashed structure, set against a thick spruce grove.
Mr. Harrison himself was sitting on his vineshaded veranda, in his shirt sleeves, enjoying his evening pipe. When he realized who was coming up the path he sprang suddenly to his feet, bolted into the house, and shut the door. This was merely the uncomfortable result of his surprise, mingled with a good deal of shame over his outburst of temper the day before. But it nearly swept the remnant of her courage from Annes heart.
If hes so cross now what will he be when he hears what Ive done, she reflected miserably, as she rapped at the door.
But Mr. Harrison opened it, smiling sheepishly, and invited her to enter in a tone quite mild and friendly, if somewhat nervous. He had laid aside his pipe and donned his coat; he offered Anne a very dusty chair very politely, and her reception would have passed off pleasantly enough if it had not been for the telltale of a parrot who was peering through the bars of his cage with wicked golden eyes. No sooner had Anne seated herself than Ginger exclaimed,
Bless my soul, whats that redheaded snippet coming here for?
It would be hard to say whose face was the redder, Mr. Harrisons or Annes.
Dont you mind that parrot, said Mr. Harrison, casting a furious glance at Ginger. Hes hes always talking nonsense. I got him from my brother who was a sailor. Sailors dont always use the choicest language, and parrots are very imitative birds.
So I should think, said poor Anne, the remembrance of her errand quelling her resentment. She couldnt afford to snub Mr. Harrison under the circumstances, that was certain. When you had just sold a mans Jersey cow offhand, without his knowledge or consent you must not mind if his parrot repeated uncomplimentary things. Nevertheless, the redheaded snippet was not quite so meek as she might otherwise have been.