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the other girls was that they sometimes kept their tongues quiet while Anne never did. This, Matthew felt, would be no great help.

He had recourse to his pipe that evening to help him study it out, much to Marillaā€™s disgust. After two hours of smoking and hard reflection Matthew arrived at a solution of his problem. Anne was not dressed like the other girls!

The more Matthew thought about the matter the more he was convinced that Anne never had been dressed like the other girlsā€”never since she had come to Green Gables. Marilla kept her clothed in plain, dark dresses, all made after the same unvarying pattern. If Matthew knew there was such a thing as fashion in dress it was as much as he did; but he was quite sure that Anneā€™s sleeves did not look at all like the sleeves the other girls wore. He recalled the cluster of little girls he had seen around her that eveningā€”all gay in waists of red and blue and pink and whiteā€”and he wondered why Marilla always kept her so plainly and soberly gowned.

Of course, it must be all right. Marilla knew best and Marilla was bringing her up. Probably some wise, inscrutable motive was to be served thereby. But surely it would do no harm to let the child have one pretty dressā€”something like Diana Barry always wore. Matthew decided that he would give her one; that surely could not be objected to as an unwarranted putting in of his oar. Christmas was only a fortnight off. A nice new dress would be the very thing for a present. Matthew, with a sigh of satisfaction, put away his pipe and went to bed, while Marilla opened all the doors and aired the house.

The very next evening Matthew betook himself to Carmody to buy the dress, determined to get the worst over and have done with it. It would be, he felt assured, no trifling ordeal. There were some things Matthew could buy and prove himself no mean bargainer; but he knew he would be at the mercy of shopkeepers when it came to buying a girlā€™s dress.

After much cogitation Matthew resolved to go to Samuel Lawsonā€™s store instead of William Blairā€™s. To be sure, the Cuthberts always had gone to William Blairā€™s; it was almost as much a matter of conscience with them as to attend the Presbyterian church and vote Conservative. But William Blairā€™s two daughters frequently waited on customers there and Matthew held them in absolute dread. He could contrive to deal with them when he knew exactly what he wanted and could point it out; but in such a matter as this, requiring explanation and consultation, Matthew felt that he must be sure of a man behind the counter. So he would go to Lawsonā€™s, where Samuel or his son would wait on him.

Alas! Matthew did not know that Samuel, in the recent expansion of his business, had set up a lady clerk also; she was a niece of his wifeā€™s and a very dashing young person indeed, with a huge, drooping pompadour, big, rolling brown eyes, and a most extensive and bewildering smile. She was dressed with exceeding smartness and wore several bangle bracelets that glittered and rattled and tinkled with every movement of her hands. Matthew was covered with confusion at finding her there at all; and those bangles completely wrecked his wits at one fell swoop.

ā€œWhat can I do for you this evening, Mr. Cuthbert?ā€ Miss Lucilla Harris inquired, briskly and ingratiatingly, tapping the counter with both hands.

ā€œHave you anyā€”anyā€”anyā€”well now, say any garden rakes?ā€ stammered Matthew.

Miss Harris looked somewhat surprised, as well she might, to hear a man inquiring for garden rakes in the middle of December.

ā€œI believe we have one or two left over,ā€ she said, ā€œbut theyā€™re upstairs in the lumber room. Iā€™ll go and see.ā€ During her absence Matthew collected his scattered senses for another effort.

When Miss Harris returned with the rake and cheerfully inquired: ā€œAnything else tonight, Mr. Cuthbert?ā€ Matthew took his courage in both hands and replied: ā€œWell now, since you suggest it, I might as wellā€”takeā€”that isā€”look atā€”buy someā€”some hayseed.ā€

Miss Harris had heard Matthew Cuthbert called odd. She now concluded that he was entirely crazy.

ā€œWe only keep hayseed in the spring,ā€ she explained loftily. ā€œWeā€™ve none on hand just now.ā€

ā€œOh, certainlyā€”certainlyā€”just as you say,ā€ stammered unhappy Matthew, seizing the rake and making for the door. At the threshold he recollected that he had not paid for it and he turned miserably back. While Miss Harris was counting out his change he rallied his powers for a final desperate attempt.

ā€œWell nowā€”if it isnā€™t too much troubleā€”I might as wellā€”that isā€”Iā€™d like to look atā€”atā€”some sugar.ā€

ā€œWhite or brown?ā€ queried Miss Harris patiently.

ā€œOhā€”well nowā€”brown,ā€ said Matthew feebly.

ā€œThereā€™s a barrel of it over there,ā€ said Miss Harris, shaking her bangles at it. ā€œItā€™s the only kind we have.ā€

ā€œIā€™llā€”Iā€™ll take twenty pounds of it,ā€ said Matthew, with beads of perspiration standing on his forehead.

Matthew had driven halfway home before he was his own man again. It had been a gruesome experience, but it served him right, he thought, for committing the heresy of going to a strange store. When he reached home he hid the rake in the tool house, but the sugar he carried in to Marilla.

ā€œBrown sugar!ā€ exclaimed Marilla. ā€œWhatever possessed you to get so much? You know I never use it except for the hired manā€™s porridge or black fruit cake. Jerryā€™s gone and Iā€™ve made my cake long ago. Itā€™s not good sugar, eitherā€”itā€™s coarse and darkā€”William Blair doesnā€™t usually keep sugar like that.ā€

ā€œIā€”I thought it might come in handy sometime,ā€ said Matthew, making good his escape.

When Matthew came to think the matter over he decided that a woman was required to cope with the situation. Marilla was out of the question. Matthew felt sure she would throw cold water on his project at once. Remained only Mrs. Lynde; for of no other woman in Avonlea would Matthew have dared to ask advice. To Mrs. Lynde he went accordingly, and that good lady promptly took the matter out of the harassed manā€™s hands.

ā€œPick out a dress for you to give Anne? To be sure I will. Iā€™m going to Carmody tomorrow and Iā€™ll attend to it. Have you something particular in mind? No? Well, Iā€™ll just go by my own judgment then. I believe a nice rich brown would just suit Anne, and William Blair has some new gloria in thatā€™s real pretty. Perhaps youā€™d like me to make it up for her, too, seeing that if Marilla was to make it Anne would probably get wind of it before the time and spoil the surprise? Well, Iā€™ll do it. No, it isnā€™t a mite of trouble. I like sewing. Iā€™ll make it to fit my niece, Jenny Gillis, for she and Anne are as like as two peas as far as figure goes.ā€

ā€œWell now, Iā€™m much obliged,ā€ said Matthew, ā€œandā€”andā€”I dunnoā€”but Iā€™d likeā€”I think they make the sleeves different nowadays to what they used to be. If it wouldnā€™t be asking too much Iā€”Iā€™d like them made in the new way.ā€

ā€œPuffs? Of course. You neednā€™t worry a speck more about it, Matthew. Iā€™ll make it up in the very latest fashion,ā€ said Mrs. Lynde. To herself she added when Matthew had gone:

ā€œItā€™ll be a real satisfaction to see that poor child wearing something decent for once. The way Marilla dresses her is positively ridiculous, thatā€™s what, and Iā€™ve ached to tell her so plainly a dozen times. Iā€™ve held my tongue though, for I can see Marilla doesnā€™t want advice and she thinks she knows more about bringing children up than I do for all sheā€™s an old maid. But thatā€™s always the way. Folks that has brought up children know that thereā€™s no hard and fast method in the world thatā€™ll suit every child. But them as never have think itā€™s all as plain and easy as Rule of Threeā€”just set your three terms down so fashion, and the sumā€™ll work out correct. But flesh and blood donā€™t come under the head of arithmetic and thatā€™s where Marilla Cuthbert makes her mistake. I suppose sheā€™s trying to cultivate a spirit of humility in Anne by dressing her as she does; but itā€™s more likely to cultivate envy and discontent. Iā€™m sure the child must feel the difference between her clothes and the other girlsā€™. But to think of Matthew taking notice of it! That man is waking up after being asleep for over sixty years.ā€

Marilla knew all the following fortnight that Matthew had something on his mind, but what it was she could not guess, until Christmas Eve, when Mrs. Lynde brought up the new dress. Marilla behaved pretty well on the whole, although it is very likely she distrusted Mrs. Lyndeā€™s diplomatic explanation that she had made the dress because Matthew was afraid Anne would find out about it too soon if Marilla made it.

ā€œSo this is what Matthew has been looking so mysterious over and grinning about to himself for two weeks, is it?ā€ she said a little stiffly but tolerantly. ā€œI knew he was up to some foolishness. Well, I must say I donā€™t think Anne needed any more dresses. I made her three good, warm, serviceable ones this fall, and anything more is sheer extravagance. Thereā€™s enough material in those sleeves alone to make a waist, I declare there is. Youā€™ll just pamper Anneā€™s vanity, Matthew, and sheā€™s as vain as a peacock now. Well, I hope sheā€™ll be satisfied at last, for I know sheā€™s been hankering after those silly sleeves ever since they came in, although she never said a word after the first. The puffs have been getting bigger and more ridiculous right along; theyā€™re as big as balloons now. Next year anybody who wears them will have to go through a door sideways.ā€

Christmas morning broke on a beautiful white world. It had been a very mild December and people had looked forward to a green Christmas; but just enough snow fell softly in the night to transfigure Avonlea. Anne peeped out from her frosted gable window with delighted eyes. The firs in the Haunted Wood were all feathery and wonderful; the birches and wild cherry trees were outlined in pearl; the plowed fields were stretches of snowy dimples; and there was a crisp tang in the air that was glorious. Anne ran downstairs singing until her voice reechoed through Green Gables.

ā€œMerry Christmas, Marilla! Merry Christmas, Matthew! Isnā€™t it a lovely Christmas? Iā€™m so glad itā€™s white. Any other kind of Christmas doesnā€™t seem real, does it? I donā€™t like green Christmases. Theyā€™re not greenā€” theyā€™re just nasty faded browns and grays. What makes people call them green? Whyā€”whyā€”Matthew, is that for me? Oh, Matthew!ā€

Matthew had sheepishly unfolded the dress from its paper swathings and held it out with a deprecatory glance at Marilla, who feigned to be contemptuously filling the teapot, but nevertheless watched the scene out of the corner of her eye with a rather interested air.

Anne took the dress and looked at it in reverent silence. Oh, how pretty it wasā€”a lovely soft brown gloria with all the gloss of silk; a skirt with dainty frills and shirrings; a waist elaborately pintucked in the most fashionable way, with a little ruffle of filmy lace at the neck. But the sleevesā€”they were the crowning glory! Long elbow cuffs, and above them two beautiful puffs divided by rows of shirring and bows of brown-silk ribbon.

ā€œThatā€™s a Christmas present for you, Anne,ā€ said Matthew shyly. ā€œWhyā€”whyā€”Anne, donā€™t you like it? Well nowā€”well now.ā€

For Anneā€™s eyes had suddenly filled with tears.

ā€œLike it! Oh, Matthew!ā€ Anne laid the dress over a chair and clasped her

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