bed again,” said Marilla, rising and going out hurriedly.
The slandered hens were nowhere near the pansy bed and Marilla did not even glance at it. Instead, she sat down on the cellar hatch and laughed until she was ashamed of herself.
When Anne and Paul reached the stone house that afternoon they found Miss Lavendar and Charlotta the Fourth in the garden, weeding, raking, clipping, and trimming as if for dear life. Miss Lavendar herself, all gay and sweet in the frills and laces she loved, dropped her shears and ran joyously to meet her guests, while Charlotta the Fourth grinned cheerfully.
“Welcome, Anne. I thought you’d come to-day. You belong to the afternoon so it brought you. Things that belong together are sure to come together. What a lot of trouble that would save some people if they only knew it. But they don’t . . . and so they waste beautiful energy moving heaven and earth to bring things together that don’t belong. And you, Paul . . . why, you’ve grown! You’re half a head taller than when you were here before.”
“Yes, I’ve begun to grow like pigweed in the night, as Mrs. Lynde says,” said Paul, in frank delight over the fact. “Grandma says it’s the porridge taking effect at last. Perhaps it is. Goodness knows . . .” Paul sighed deeply . . . “I’ve eaten enough to make anyone grow. I do hope, now that I’ve begun, I’ll keep on till I’m as tall as father. He is six feet, you know, Miss Lavendar.”
