Sarah Ellis Anne of Green Gables Excerpt - Lively Storyteller
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Marila came briskly forward as Matthew opened the door, but when her eyes fell on the odd little figure in the stiff ugly dress, with the long braids of red hair and the eager, luminous eyes, she stopped short in amazement. Matthew! Cuthbert! Who's that? She ejaculated. Where is the boy? There wasn't any boy, said Matthew wretchedly. There was only her. He nodded at the child, remembering that he had never even asked her name. No boy. But there must have been a boy, insisted Marila. We sent word to mrs Spencer to bring a boy. Well, she didn't. She brought her. I asked the stationmaster, and I had to bring her home. She couldn't be left there, no matter where the mistake had come in. Well, this is a pretty piece of business! Ejaculated Marila during this dialogue the child had remained silent, her eyes roving from one to the other, all the animation fading out of her face. Suddenly she seemed to grasp the full meaning of what had been said, dropping her precious carpetbag, she sprang forward a step and clasped her hands. You don't want me! She cried. You don't want me because I'm not a boy. I might have expected it. Nobody ever did want me. I might have known it was all too beautiful to last. I might have known nobody really did want me. Oh, what shall I do? I'm going to burst into tears, burst into tears. She did, sitting down on a chair by the table, flinging her arms out upon it and burying her face in them. She proceeded to cry storm early, Marila and Matthew looked at each other, depreciating lee across the stove. Neither of them knew what to say or do. Finally Marila stepped lamely into the breach. Well, well, there's no need to cry so about it. Yes, there is need! The child raised her head quickly, revealing a tear stained face and trembling lips. You would cry, too, if you were an orphan and had come to a place you thought was going to be home and found that they didn't want you because you weren't a boy. Oh, this is the most tragical thing that ever happened to me, something like a reluctant smile, rather rusty from long disuse. Mallard Marila is grim expression.