“It’s a bargain,” said Davy.  “I’ll be good, you bet.  I meant to go over to Mr. Harrison’s and fire peas from my new popgun at Ginger but another day’ll do as well.  I espect it will be just like Sunday, but a picnic at the shore’ll make up for that.”

XVII

A Chapter of Accidents

Anne woke three times in the night and made pilgrimages to her window to make sure that Uncle Abe’s prediction was not coming true.  Finally the morning dawned pearly and lustrous in a sky full of silver sheen and radiance, and the wonderful day had arrived.

Diana appeared soon after breakfast, with a basket of flowers over one arm and her muslin dress over the other . . . for it would not do to don it until all the dinner preparations were completed.  Meanwhile she wore her afternoon pink print and a lawn apron fearfully and wonderfully ruffled and frilled; and very neat and pretty and rosy she was.

“You look simply sweet,” said Anne admiringly.

Diana sighed.

“But I’ve had to let out every one of my dresses again.  I weigh four pounds more than I did in July.  Anne, where will this end?  Mrs. Morgan’s heroines are all tall and slender.”

“Well, let’s forget our troubles and think of our mercies,” said Anne gaily.  “Mrs. Allan says that whenever we think of anything that is a trial to us we should also think of something nice that we can set over against it.  If you are slightly too plump you’ve got the dearest dimples; and if I have a freckled nose the shape of it is all right.  Do you think the lemon juice did any good?”

“Yes, I really think it did,” said Diana critically; and, much elated, Anne led the way to the garden, which was full of airy shadows and wavering golden lights.

“We’ll decorate the parlor first.  We have plenty of time, for Priscilla said they’d be here about twelve or half past at the latest, so we’ll have dinner at one.”

There may have been two happier and more excited girls somewhere in Canada or the United States at that moment, but I doubt it.  Every snip of the scissors, as rose and peony and bluebell fell, seemed to chirp, “Mrs. Morgan is coming today.”  Anne wondered how Mr. Harrison could go on placidly mowing hay in the field across the lane, just as if nothing were going to happen.

The parlor at Green Gables was a rather severe and gloomy apartment, with rigid horsehair furniture, stiff lace curtains, and white antimacassars that were always laid at a perfectly correct angle, except at such times as they clung to unfortunate people’s buttons.  Even Anne had never been able to infuse much grace into it, for Marilla would not permit any alterations.  But it is wonderful what flowers can accomplish if you give them a fair chance; when Anne and Diana finished with the room you would not have recognized it.