“Where’s Davy?” said Marilla, with an indifferent glance at the star.
“In bed. I’ve promised to take him and Dora to the shore for a picnic to-morrow. Of course, the original agreement was that he must be good. But he tried to be good . . . and I hadn’t the heart to disappoint him.”
“You’ll drown yourself or the twins, rowing about the pond in that flat,” grumbled Marilla. “I’ve lived here for sixty years and I’ve never been on the pond yet.”
“Well, it’s never too late to mend,” said Anne roguishly. “Suppose you come with us to-morrow. We’ll shut Green Gables up and spend the whole day at the shore, daffing the world aside.”
“No, thank you,” said Marilla, with indignant emphasis. “I’d be a nice sight, wouldn’t I, rowing down the pond in a flat? I think I hear Rachel pronouncing on it. There’s Mr. Harrison driving away somewhere. Do you suppose there is any truth in the gossip that Mr. Harrison is going to see Isabella Andrews?”
“No, I’m sure there isn’t. He just called there one evening on business with Mr. Harmon Andrews and Mrs. Lynde saw him and said she knew he was courting because he had a white collar on. I don’t believe Mr. Harrison will ever marry. He seems to have a prejudice against marriage.”
“Well, you can never tell about those old bachelors. And if he had a white collar on I’d agree with Rachel
