“It’s beginning to snow, girls,” said Phil, coming in one
November evening, “and there are the loveliest little stars and crosses
all over the garden walk. I never noticed before what exquisite things
snowflakes really are. One has time to notice things like that in the simple
life. Bless you all for permitting me to live it. It’s really delightful
to feel worried because butter has gone up five cents a pound.”
“Has it?” demanded Stella, who kept the household accounts.
“It has—and here’s your butter. I’m getting quite
expert at marketing. It’s better fun than flirting,” concluded Phil
gravely.
“Everything is going up scandalously,” sighed Stella.
“Never mind. Thank goodness air and salvation are still free,” said
Aunt Jamesina.
“And so is laughter,” added Anne. “There’s no tax on it
yet and that is well, because you’re all going to laugh presently.
I’m going to read you Davy’s letter. His spelling has improved
immensely this past year, though he is not strong on apostrophes, and he
certainly possesses the gift of writing an interesting letter. Listen and
laugh, before we settle down to the evening’s study-grind.”
“Dear Anne,” ran Davy’s letter, “I take my pen to tell
you that we are all pretty well and hope this will find you the same.
It’s snowing some today and Marilla says the old woman in the sky is
shaking her feather beds. Is the old woman in the sky God’s wife, Anne? I
want to know.
“Mrs. Lynde has been real sick but she is better now. She fell down the
cellar stairs last week. When she fell she grabbed hold of the shelf with all
the milk pails and stewpans on it, and it gave way and went down with her and
made a splendid crash. Marilla thought it was an earthquake at first.
“One of the stewpans was all dinged up and Mrs. Lynde straned her ribs.
The doctor came and gave her medicine to rub on her ribs but she didn’t
under stand him and took it all inside instead. The doctor said it was a wonder
it dident kill her but it dident and it cured her ribs and Mrs. Lynde says
doctors dont know much anyhow. But we couldent fix up the stewpan. Marilla had
to throw it out. Thanksgiving was last week. There was no school and we had a
great dinner. I et mince pie and rost turkey and frut cake and donuts and
cheese and jam and choklut cake. Marilla said I’d die but I dident. Dora
had earake after it, only it wasent in her ears it was in her stummick. I
dident have earake anywhere.
“Our new teacher is a man. He does things for jokes. Last week he made
all us third-class boys write a composishun on what kind of a wife we’d
like to have and the girls on what kind of a husband. He laughed fit to kill
when he read them. This was mine. I thought youd like to see it.
“‘The kind of a wife I’d like to Have.
“‘She must have good manners and get my meals on time and do what I
tell her and always be very polite to me. She must be fifteen yers old. She
must be good to the poor and keep her house tidy and be good tempered and go to
church regularly. She must be very handsome and have curly hair. If I get a
wife that is just what I like Ill be an awful good husband to her. I think a
woman ought to be awful good to her husband. Some poor women haven’t any
husbands.
