Davy soon returned, somewhat cast down.

“Mrs. Harrison was away . . . she’s gone to Carmody with Mrs. Rachel Lynde to get new paper for the parlor.  And Mr. Harrison said to tell Anne to go over and see him ’cause he wants to have a talk with her.  And say, the floor is scrubbed, and Mr. Harrison is shaved, though there wasn’t any preaching yesterday.”

The Harrison kitchen wore a very unfamiliar look to Anne.  The floor was indeed scrubbed to a wonderful pitch of purity and so was every article of furniture in the room; the stove was polished until she could see her face in it; the walls were whitewashed and the window panes sparkled in the sunlight.  By the table sat Mr. Harrison in his working clothes, which on Friday had been noted for sundry rents and tatters but which were now neatly patched and brushed.  He was sprucely shaved and what little hair he had was carefully trimmed.

“Sit down, Anne, sit down,” said Mr. Harrison in a tone but two degrees removed from that which Avonlea people used at funerals.  “Emily’s gone over to Carmody with Rachel Lynde . . . she’s struck up a lifelong friendship already with Rachel Lynde.  Beats all how contrary women are.  Well, Anne, my easy times are over . . . all over.  It’s neatness and tidiness for me for the rest of my natural life, I suppose.”

Mr. Harrison did his best to speak dolefully, but an irrepressible twinkle in his eye betrayed him.

“Mr. Harrison, you are glad your wife is come back,” cried Anne, shaking her finger at him.  “You needn’t pretend you’re not, because I can see it plainly.”

Mr. Harrison relaxed into a sheepish smile.

“Well . . . well . . .  I’m getting used to it,” he conceded.  “I can’t say I was sorry to see Emily.  A man really needs some protection in a community like this, where he can’t play a game of checkers with a neighbor without being accused of wanting to marry that neighbor’s sister and having it put in the paper.”

“Nobody would have supposed you went to see Isabella Andrews if you hadn’t pretended to be unmarried,” said Anne severely.

“I didn’t pretend I was.  If anybody’d have asked me if I was married I’d have said I was.  But they just took it for granted.  I wasn’t anxious to talk about the matter . . .  I was feeling too sore over it.  It would have been nuts for Mrs. Rachel Lynde if she had known my wife had left me, wouldn’t it now?”

“But some people say that you left her.”

“She started it, Anne, she started it.  I’m going to tell you the whole story, for I don’t want you to think worse of me than I deserve . . . nor of Emily neither.  But let’s go out on the veranda.  Everything is so fearful neat in here that it kind of makes me homesick.  I suppose I’ll get used to it after awhile but it eases me up to look at the yard.  Emily hasn’t had time to tidy it up yet.”

As soon as they were comfortably seated on the veranda Mr. Harrison began his tale of woe.