That was what she said last week when Jane invited me to go with them in their double-seated buggy to the American concert at the White Sands Hotel.
I wanted to go, but Marilla said I’d be better at home learning my lessons and so would Jane.
I was bitterly disappointed, Diana.
I felt so heartbroken that I wouldn’t say my prayers when I went to bed.
But I repented of that and got up in the middle of the night and said them.”
“I’ll tell you,” said Diana, “we’ll get Mother to ask Marilla.
She’ll be more likely to let you go then; and if she does we’ll have the time of our lives, Anne.
I’ve never been to an Exhibition, and it’s so aggravating to hear the other girls talking about their trips.
Jane and Ruby have been twice, and they’re going this year again.”
“I’m not going to think about it at all until I know whether I can go or not,” said Anne resolutely.
“If I did and then was disappointed, it would be more than I could bear.
But in case I do go I’m very glad my new coat will be ready by that time.
Marilla didn’t think I needed a new coat.
She said my old one would do very well for another winter and that I ought to be satisfied with having a new dress.
The dress is very pretty, Diana—navy blue and made so fashionably.
Marilla always makes my dresses fashionably now, because she says she doesn’t intend to have Matthew going to Mrs. Lynde to make them.
I’m so glad.
It is ever so much easier to be good if your clothes are fashionable.
At least, it is easier for me.
I suppose it doesn’t make such a difference to naturally good people. But Matthew said I must have a new coat, so Marilla bought a lovely piece of blue broadcloth, and it’s being made by a real dressmaker over at Carmody.
It’s to be done Saturday night, and I’m trying not to imagine myself walking up the church aisle on Sunday in my new suit and cap, because I’m afraid it isn’t right to imagine such things.
But it just slips into my mind in spite of me.
My cap is so pretty.
Matthew bought it for me the day we were over at Carmody.
It is one of those little blue velvet ones that are all the rage, with gold cord and tassels.
Your new hat is elegant, Diana, and so becoming.
When I saw you come into church last Sunday my heart swelled with pride to think you were my dearest friend.
Do you suppose it’s wrong for us to think so much about our clothes?
Marilla says it is very sinful.
But it is such an interesting subject, isn’t it?”
Marilla agreed to let Anne go to town, and it was arranged that Mr. Barry should take the girls in on the following Tuesday.
As Charlottetown was thirty miles away and Mr. Barry wished to go and return the same day, it was necessary to make a very early start.
But Anne counted it all joy, and was up before sunrise on Tuesday morning.
A glance from her window assured her that the day would be fine, for the eastern sky behind the firs of the Haunted Wood was all silvery and cloudless.
Through the gap in the trees a light was shining in the western gable of Orchard Slope, a token that Diana was also up.
Anne was dressed by the time Matthew had the fire on and had the breakfast ready when Marilla came down, but for her own part was much too excited to eat.
After breakfast the jaunty new cap and jacket were donned, and Anne hastened over the brook and up through the firs to Orchard Slope.
Mr. Barry and Diana were waiting for her, and they were soon on the road.
It was a long drive, but Anne and Diana enjoyed every minute of it.
It was delightful to rattle along over the moist roads in the early red sunlight that was creeping across the shorn harvest fields.
The air was fresh and crisp, and little smoke-blue mists curled through the valleys and floated off from the hills.
Sometimes the road went through woods where maples were beginning to hang out scarlet banners; sometimes it crossed rivers on bridges that made Anne’s flesh cringe with the old, half-delightful fear; sometimes it wound along a harbor shore and passed by a little cluster of weather-gray fishing huts; again it mounted to hills whence a far sweep of curving upland or misty-blue sky could be seen; but wherever it went there was much of interest to discuss.
It was almost noon when they reached town and found their way to “Beechwood.”
It was quite a fine old mansion, set back from the street in a seclusion of green elms and branching beeches.
Miss Barry met them at the door with a twinkle in her sharp black eyes.
“So you’ve come to see me at last, you Anne-girl,” she said.
“Mercy, child, how you have grown!
You’re taller than I am, I declare.
And you’re ever so much better looking than you used to be, too.
But I dare say you know that without being told.”