At last it struck me that it would be splendid to call it Victoria Island because we found it on the Queen’s birthday.
Both Diana and I are very loyal. But I’m sorry about that pie and the handkerchiefs.
I wanted to be extra good today because it’s an anniversary.
Do you remember what happened this day last year, Marilla?”
“No, I can’t think of anything special.”
“Oh, Marilla, it was the day I came to Green Gables.
I shall never forget it.
It was the turning point in my life.
Of course it wouldn’t seem so important to you.
I’ve been here for a year and I’ve been so happy.
Of course, I’ve had my troubles, but one can live down troubles.
Are you sorry you kept me, Marilla?”
“No, I can’t say I’m sorry,” said Marilla, who sometimes wondered how she could have lived before Anne came to Green Gables, “no, not exactly sorry.
If you’ve finished your lessons, Anne, I want you to run over and ask Mrs. Barry if she’ll lend me Diana’s apron pattern.”
“Oh—it’s—it’s too dark,” cried Anne.
“Too dark?
Why, it’s only twilight.
And goodness knows you’ve gone over often enough after dark.”
“I’ll go over early in the morning,” said Anne eagerly.
“I’ll get up at sunrise and go over, Marilla.”
“What has got into your head now, Anne Shirley?
I want that pattern to cut out your new apron this evening.
Go at once and be smart too.”
“I’ll have to go around by the road, then,” said Anne, taking up her hat reluctantly.
“Go by the road and waste half an hour!
I’d like to catch you!”
“I can’t go through the Haunted Wood, Marilla,” cried Anne desperately.
Marilla stared.
“The Haunted Wood!
Are you crazy?
What under the canopy is the Haunted Wood?”
“The spruce wood over the brook,” said Anne in a whisper.
“Fiddlesticks!
There is no such thing as a haunted wood anywhere.
Who has been telling you such stuff?”
“Nobody,” confessed Anne.
“Diana and I just imagined the wood was haunted.
All the places around here are so—so—commonplace.
We just got this up for our own amusement.
We began it in April.
A haunted wood is so very romantic, Marilla.
We chose the spruce grove because it’s so gloomy.
Oh, we have imagined the most harrowing things.
There’s a white lady walks along the brook just about this time of the night and wrings her hands and utters wailing cries.
She appears when there is to be a death in the family.
And the ghost of a little murdered child haunts the corner up by Idlewild; it creeps up behind you and lays its cold fingers on your hand—so.
Oh, Marilla, it gives me a shudder to think of it.
And there’s a headless man stalks up and down the path and skeletons glower at you between the boughs.
Oh, Marilla, I wouldn’t go through the Haunted Wood after dark now for anything.
I’d be sure that white things would reach out from behind the trees and grab me.”