“Dear life and heart,” said Marilla blankly, “what does this mean?
Here’s my brooch safe and sound that I thought was at the bottom of Barry’s pond.
Whatever did that girl mean by saying she took it and lost it?
I declare I believe Green Gables is bewitched.
I remember now that when I took off my shawl Monday afternoon I laid it on the bureau for a minute.
I suppose the brooch got caught in it somehow.
Well!”
Marilla betook herself to the east gable, brooch in hand.
Anne had cried herself out and was sitting dejectedly by the window.
“Anne Shirley,” said Marilla solemnly, “I’ve just found my brooch hanging to my black lace shawl.
Now I want to know what that rigmarole you told me this morning meant.”
“Why, you said you’d keep me here until I confessed,” returned Anne wearily, “and so I decided to confess because I was bound to get to the picnic.
I thought out a confession last night after I went to bed and made it as interesting as I could.
And I said it over and over so that I wouldn’t forget it.
But you wouldn’t let me go to the picnic after all, so all my trouble was wasted.”
Marilla had to laugh in spite of herself.
But her conscience pricked her.
“Anne, you do beat all!
But I was wrong—I see that now.
I shouldn’t have doubted your word when I’d never known you to tell a story.
Of course, it wasn’t right for you to confess to a thing you hadn’t done—it was very wrong to do so.
But I drove you to it.
So if you’ll forgive me, Anne, I’ll forgive you and we’ll start square again.
And now get yourself ready for the picnic.”
Anne flew up like a rocket.
“Oh, Marilla, isn’t it too late?”
“No, it’s only two o’clock.
They won’t be more than well gathered yet and it’ll be an hour before they have tea.
Wash your face and comb your hair and put on your gingham.
I’ll fill a basket for you.
There’s plenty of stuff baked in the house.
And I’ll get Jerry to hitch up the sorrel and drive you down to the picnic ground.”
“Oh, Marilla,” exclaimed Anne, flying to the washstand.
“Five minutes ago I was so miserable I was wishing I’d never been born and now I wouldn’t change places with an angel!”
That night a thoroughly happy, completely tired-out Anne returned to Green Gables in a state of beatification impossible to describe.
“Oh, Marilla, I’ve had a perfectly scrumptious time.
Scrumptious is a new word I learned today.
I heard Mary Alice Bell use it.
Isn’t it very expressive?
Everything was lovely.
We had a splendid tea and then Mr. Harmon Andrews took us all for a row on the Lake of Shining Waters—six of us at a time.
And Jane Andrews nearly fell overboard.
She was leaning out to pick water lilies and if Mr. Andrews hadn’t caught her by her sash just in the nick of time she’d fallen in and prob’ly been drowned.
I wish it had been me.
It would have been such a romantic experience to have been nearly drowned.
It would be such a thrilling tale to tell.
And we had the ice cream.
Words fail me to describe that ice cream.
Marilla, I assure you it was sublime.”
That evening Marilla told the whole story to Matthew over her stocking basket.