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1MARILLA, walking home one late April evening from an Aid meeting, realized that the winter was over and gone with the
2thrill of delight that spring never fails to bring to the oldest and saddest as well as to the youngest and merriest.
3Marilla was not given to subjective analysis of her thoughts and feelings. She probably imagined that she was thinking
4about the Aids and their missionary box and the new carpet for the vestry room, but under these reflections was a
5harmonious consciousness of red fields smoking into pale-purply mists in the declining sun, of long, sharp-pointed fir
6shadows falling over the meadow beyond the brook, of still, crimson-budded maples around a mirrorlike wood pool, of a
7wakening in the world and a stir of hidden pulses under the gray sod. The spring was abroad in the land and Marilla's
8sober, middle-aged step was lighter and swifter because of its deep, primal gladness. Her eyes dwelt affectionately on
9Green Gables, peering through its network of trees and reflecting the sunlight back from its windows in several little
10coruscations of glory. Marilla, as she picked her steps along the damp lane, thought that it was really a satisfaction
11to know that she was going home to a briskly snapping wood fire and a table nicely spread for tea, instead of to the
12cold comfort of old Aid meeting evenings before Anne had come to Green Gables. Consequently, when Marilla entered her
13kitchen and found the fire black out, with no sign of Anne anywhere, she felt justly disappointed and irritated. She had
14told Anne to be sure and have tea ready at five o'clock, but now she must hurry to take off her second-best dress and
15prepare the meal herself against Matthew's return from plowing. "I'll settle Miss Anne when she comes home," said
16Marilla grimly, as she shaved up kindlings with a carving knife and with more vim than was strictly necessary. Matthew
17had come in and was waiting patiently for his tea in his corner. "She's gadding off somewhere with Diana, writing
18stories or practicing dialogues or some such tomfoolery, and never thinking once about the time or her duties. She's
19just got to be pulled up short and sudden on this sort of thing. I don't care if Mrs. Allan does say she's the brightest
20and sweetest child she ever knew. She may be bright and sweet enough, but her head is full of nonsense and there's never
21any knowing what shape it'll break out in next. Just as soon as she grows out of one freak she takes up with another.
22But there! Here I am saying the very thing I was so riled with Rachel Lynde for saying at the Aid today. I was real glad
23when Mrs. Allan spoke up for Anne, for if she hadn't I know I'd have said something too sharp to Rachel before
24everybody. Anne's got plenty of faults, goodness knows, and far be it from me to deny it. But I'm bringing her up and
25not Rachel Lynde, who'd pick faults in the Angel Gabriel himself if he lived in Avonlea. Just the same, Anne has no
26business to leave the house like this when I told her she was to stay home this afternoon and look after things. I must
27say, with all her faults, I never found her disobedient or untrustworthy before and I'm real sorry to find her so now."
28"Well now, I dunno," said Matthew, who, being patient and wise and, above all, hungry, had deemed it best to let Marilla
29talk her wrath out unhindered, having learned by experience that she got through with whatever work was on hand much
30quicker if not delayed by untimely argument. "Perhaps you're judging her too hasty, Marilla. Don't call her
31untrustworthy until you're sure she has disobeyed you. Mebbe it can all be explained--Anne's a great hand at
32explaining." "She's not here when I told her to stay," retorted Marilla. "I reckon she'll find it hard to explain that
33to my satisfaction. Of course I knew you'd take her part, Matthew. But I'm bringing her up, not you." It was dark when
34supper was ready, and still no sign of Anne, coming hurriedly over the log bridge or up Lover's Lane, breathless and
35repentant with a sense of neglected duties. Marilla washed and put away the dishes grimly. Then, wanting a candle to
36light her way down the cellar, she went up to the east gable for the one that generally stood on Anne's table. Lighting
37it, she turned around to see Anne herself lying on the bed, face downward among the pillows. "Mercy on us," said
38astonished Marilla, "have you been asleep, Anne?" "No," was the muffled reply. "Are you sick then?" demanded Marilla
39anxiously, going over to the bed. Anne cowered deeper into her pillows as if desirous of hiding herself forever from
40mortal eyes. "No. But please, Marilla, go away and don't look at me. I'm in the depths of despair and I don't care who
41gets head in class or writes the best composition or sings in the Sunday-school choir any more. Little things like that
42are of no importance now because I don't suppose I'll ever be able to go anywhere again. My career is closed. Please,
43Marilla, go away and don't look at me." "Did anyone ever hear the like?" the mystified Marilla wanted to know. "Anne
44Shirley, whatever is the matter with you? What have you done? Get right up this minute and tell me. This minute, I say.
45There now, what is it?" Anne had slid to the floor in despairing obedience. "Look at my hair, Marilla," she whispered.
46Accordingly, Marilla lifted her candle and looked scrutinizingly at Anne's hair, flowing in heavy masses down her back.
47It certainly had a very strange appearance. "Anne Shirley, what have you done to your hair? Why, it's green!" Green it
48might be called, if it were any earthly color--a queer, dull, bronzy green, with streaks here and there of the original
49red to heighten the ghastly effect. Never in all her life had Marilla seen anything so grotesque as Anne's hair at that
50moment. "Yes, it's green," moaned Anne. "I thought nothing could be as bad as red hair. But now I know it's ten times
51worse to have green hair. Oh, Marilla, you little know how utterly wretched I am." "I little know how you got into this
52fix, but I mean to find out," said Marilla. "Come right down to the kitchen--it's too cold up here--and tell me just
53what you've done. I've been expecting something queer for some time. You haven't got into any scrape for over two
54months, and I was sure another one was due. Now, then, what did you do to your hair?" "I dyed it." "Dyed it! Dyed your
55hair! Anne Shirley, didn't you know it was a wicked thing to do?" "Yes, I knew it was a little wicked," admitted Anne.
56"But I thought it was worth while to be a little wicked to get rid of red hair. I counted the cost, Marilla. Besides, I
57meant to be extra good in other ways to make up for it." "Well," said Marilla sarcastically, "if I'd decided it was
58worth while to dye my hair I'd have dyed it a decent color at least. I wouldn't have dyed it green." "But I didn't mean
59to dye it green, Marilla," protested Anne dejectedly. "If I was wicked I meant to be wicked to some purpose. He said it
60would turn my hair a beautiful raven black--he positively assured me that it would. How could I doubt his word, Marilla?
61I know what it feels like to have your word doubted. And Mrs. Allan says we should never suspect anyone of not telling
62us the truth unless we have proof that they're not. I have proof now--green hair is proof enough for anybody. But I
63hadn't then and I believed every word he said implicitly." "Who said? Who are you talking about?" "The peddler that was
64here this afternoon. I bought the dye from him." "Anne Shirley, how often have I told you never to let one of those
65Italians in the house! I don't believe in encouraging them to come around at all."
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