VIII
Marilla Adopts Twins
Mrs. Rachel Lynde was sitting at her kitchen window, knitting a
quilt, just as she had been sitting one evening several years
previously when Matthew Cuthbert had driven down over the hill with
what Mrs. Rachel called "his imported orphan." But that had been
in springtime; and this was late autumn, and all the woods were
leafless and the fields sere and brown. The sun was just setting
with a great deal of purple and golden pomp behind the dark woods
west of Avonlea when a buggy drawn by a comfortable brown nag came
down the hill. Mrs. Rachel peered at it eagerly.
"There's Marilla getting home from the funeral," she said to her
husband, who was lying on the kitchen lounge. Thomas Lynde lay
more on the lounge nowadays than he had been used to do, but Mrs.
Rachel, who was so sharp at noticing anything beyond her own
household, had not as yet noticed this. "And she's got the twins
with her,. . .yes, there's Davy leaning over the dashboard
grabbing at the pony's tail and Marilla jerking him back.
Dora's sitting up on the seat as prim as you please. She always
looks as if she'd just been starched and ironed. Well, poor
Marilla is going to have her hands full this winter and no mistake.
Still, I don't see that she could do anything less than take them,
under the circumstances, and she'll have Anne to help her.
Anne's tickled to death over the whole business, and she has a
real knacky way with children, I must say. Dear me, it doesn't
seem a day since poor Matthew brought Anne herself home and
everybody laughed at the idea of Marilla bringing up a child.
And now she has adopted twins. You're never safe from being
surprised till you're dead."
The fat pony jogged over the bridge in Lynde's Hollow and along the
Green Gables lane. Marilla's face was rather grim. It was ten
miles from East Grafton and Davy Keith seemed to be possessed with
a passion for perpetual motion. It was beyond Marilla's power to
make him sit still and she had been in an agony the whole way lest
he fall over the back of the wagon and break his neck, or tumble
over the dashboard under the pony's heels. In despair she finally
threatened to whip him soundly when she got him home. Whereupon
Davy climbed into her lap, regardless of the reins, flung his
chubby arms about her neck and gave her a bear-like hug.
"I don't believe you mean it," he said, smacking her wrinkled cheek
affectionately. "You don't LOOK like a lady who'd whip a little
boy just 'cause he couldn't keep still. Didn't you find it awful
hard to keep still when you was only 's old as me?"
"No, I always kept still when I was told," said Marilla, trying to
speak sternly, albeit she felt her heart waxing soft within her
under Davy's impulsive caresses.
"Well, I s'pose that was 'cause you was a girl," said Davy,
squirming back to his place after another hug. "You WAS a
girl once, I s'pose, though it's awful funny to think of it.
Dora can sit still. . .but there ain't much fun in it _I_ don't think.
Seems to me it must be slow to be a girl. Here, Dora, let me liven
you up a bit."
Davy's method of "livening up" was to grasp Dora's curls in his
fingers and give them a tug. Dora shrieked and then cried.
"How can you be such a naughty boy and your poor mother just laid
in her grave this very day?" demanded Marilla despairingly.
"But she was glad to die," said Davy confidentially. "I know,
'cause she told me so. She was awful tired of being sick.
We'd a long talk the night before she died. She told me you was
going to take me and Dora for the winter and I was to be a good boy.
I'm going to be good, but can't you be good running round just as
well as sitting still? And she said I was always to be kind to Dora
and stand up for her, and I'm going to."
"Do you call pulling her hair being kind to her?"
"Well, I ain't going to let anybody else pull it," said Davy,
doubling up his fists and frowning. "They'd just better try it.
I didn't hurt her much. . .she just cried 'cause she's a girl.
I'm glad I'm a boy but I'm sorry I'm a twin. When Jimmy Sprott's
sister conterdicks him he just says, `I'm oldern you, so of course
I know better,' and that settles HER. But I can't tell Dora that,
and she just goes on thinking diffrunt from me. You might let me
drive the gee-gee for a spell, since I'm a man."
Altogether, Marilla was a thankful woman when she drove into her own yard,
where the wind of the autumn night was dancing with the brown leaves.
Anne was at the gate to meet them and lift the twins out. Dora submitted
calmly to be kissed, but Davy responded to Anne's welcome with one of his
hearty hugs and the cheerful announcement, "I'm Mr. Davy Keith."
At the supper table Dora behaved like a little lady, but Davy's
manners left much to be desired.
"I'm so hungry I ain't got time to eat p'litely," he said when Marilla
reproved him. "Dora ain't half as hungry as I am. Look at all the
ex'cise I took on the road here. That cake's awful nice and plummy.
We haven't had any cake at home for ever'n ever so long, 'cause
mother was too sick to make it and Mrs. Sprott said it was as much
as she could do to bake our bread for us. And Mrs. Wiggins never
puts any plums in HER cakes. Catch her! Can I have another piece?"
Marilla would have refused but Anne cut a generous second slice.
However, she reminded Davy that he ought to say "Thank you" for it.
Davy merely grinned at her and took a huge bite. When he had
finished the slice he said,
"If you'll give me ANOTHER piece I'll say thank you for IT."
"No, you have had plenty of cake," said Marilla in a tone which
Anne knew and Davy was to learn to be final.
Davy winked at Anne, and then, leaning over the table, snatched
Dora's first piece of cake, from which she had just taken one
dainty little bite, out of her very fingers and, opening his mouth
to the fullest extent, crammed the whole slice in. Dora's lip
trembled and Marilla was speechless with horror. Anne promptly
exclaimed, with her best "schoolma'am" air,
"Oh, Davy, gentlemen don't do things like that."
"I know they don't," said Davy, as soon as he could speak,
"but I ain't a gemplum."
"But don't you want to be?" said shocked Anne.
"Course I do. But you can't be a gemplum till you grow up."
"Oh, indeed you can," Anne hastened to say, thinking she saw a chance
to sow good seed betimes. "You can begin to be a gentleman when you
are a little boy. And gentlemen NEVER snatch things from ladies. . .
or forget to say thank you. . .or pull anybody's hair."
"They don't have much fun, that's a fact," said Davy frankly.
"I guess I'll wait till I'm grown up to be one."
Marilla, with a resigned air, had cut another piece of cake for Dora.
She did not feel able to cope with Davy just then. It had been a
hard day for her, what with the funeral and the long drive.
At that moment she looked forward to the future with a pessimism
that would have done credit to Eliza Andrews herself.
The twins were not noticeably alike, although both were fair.
Dora had long sleek curls that never got out of order. Davy had
a crop of fuzzy little yellow ringlets all over his round head.
Dora's hazel eyes were gentle and mild; Davy's were as roguish
and dancing as an elf's. Dora's nose was straight, Davy's a
positive snub; Dora had a "prunes and prisms" mouth, Davy's was
all smiles; and besides, he had a dimple in one cheek and none in the
other, which gave him a dear, comical, lopsided look when he laughed.
Mirth and mischief lurked in every corner of his little face.
"They'd better go to bed," said Marilla, who thought it was the
easiest way to dispose of them. "Dora will sleep with me and you
can put Davy in the west gable. You're not afraid to sleep alone,
are you, Davy?"
"No; but I ain't going to bed for ever so long yet," said Davy comfortably.
"Oh, yes, you are." That was all the muchtried Marilla said, but
something in her tone squelched even Davy. He trotted obediently
upstairs with Anne."
When I'm grown up the very first thing I'm going to do is stay up ALL
night just to see what it would be like," he told her confidentially.
In after years Marilla never thought of that first week of the
twins' sojourn at Green Gables without a shiver. Not that it
really was so much worse than the weeks that followed it; but it
seemed so by reason of its novelty. There was seldom a waking
minute of any day when Davy was not in mischief or devising it;
but his first notable exploit occurred two days after his arrival,
on Sunday morning. . .a fine, warm day, as hazy and mild as September.
Anne dressed him for church while Marilla attended to Dora.
Davy at first objected strongly to having his face washed.
"Marilla washed it yesterday. . .and Mrs. Wiggins scoured me with
hard soap the day of the funeral. That's enough for one week.
I don't see the good of being so awful clean. It's lots more
comfable being dirty."
"Paul Irving washes his face every day of his own accord," said
Anne astutely.
Davy had been an inmate of Green Gables for little over forty-eight
hours; but he already worshipped Anne and hated Paul Irving, whom
he had heard Anne praising enthusiastically the day after his arrival.
If Paul Irving washed his face every day, that settled it. He, Davy
Keith, would do it too, if it killed him. The same consideration
induced him to submit meekly to the other details of his toilet,
and he was really a handsome little lad when all was done.
Anne felt an almost maternal pride in him as she led him into
the old Cuthbert pew.
Davy behaved quite well at first, being occupied in casting covert
glances at all the small boys within view and wondering which was
Paul Irving. The first two hymns and the Scripture reading passed
off uneventfully. Mr. Allan was praying when the sensation came.
Lauretta White was sitting in front of Davy, her head slightly bent
and her fair hair hanging in two long braids, between which a
tempting expanse of white neck showed, encased in a loose lace
frill. Lauretta was a fat, placid-looking child of eight, who had
conducted herself irreproachably in church from the very first day
her mother carried her there, an infant of six months.
Davy thrust his hand into his pocket and produced. . .a
caterpillar, a furry, squirming caterpillar. Marilla saw
and clutched at him but she was too late. Davy dropped the
caterpillar down Lauretta's neck.
Right into the middle of Mr. Allan's prayer burst a series of
piercing shrieks. The minister stopped appalled and opened his eyes.
Every head in the congregation flew up. Lauretta White was dancing
up and down in her pew, clutching frantically at the back of her dress.
"Ow. . .mommer. . .mommer. . .ow. . .take it off. . .ow. . .get it
out. . .ow. . .that bad boy put it down my neck. . .ow. . .mommer.
. .it's going further down. . .ow. . .ow. . .ow...."
Mrs. White rose and with a set face carried the hysterical,
writhing Lauretta out of church. Her shrieks died away in the
distance and Mr. Allan proceeded with the service. But everybody
felt that it was a failure that day. For the first time in her
life Marilla took no notice of the text and Anne sat with scarlet
cheeks of mortification.
When they got home Marilla put Davy to bed and made him stay there
for the rest of the day. She would not give him any dinner but
allowed him a plain tea of bread and milk. Anne carried it to him
and sat sorrowfully by him while he ate it with an unrepentant relish.
But Anne's mournful eyes troubled him.
"I s'pose," he said reflectively, "that Paul Irving wouldn't have
dropped a caterpillar down a girl's neck in church, would he?"
"Indeed he wouldn't," said Anne sadly.
"Well, I'm kind of sorry I did it, then," conceded Davy. "But it
was such a jolly big caterpillar. . .I picked him up on the church
steps just as we went in. It seemed a pity to waste him. And say,
wasn't it fun to hear that girl yell?"
Tuesday afternoon the Aid Society met at Green Gables. Anne hurried
home from school, for she knew that Marilla would need all the assistance
she could give. Dora, neat and proper, in her nicely starched white dress
and black sash, was sitting with the members of the Aid in the parlor,
speaking demurely when spoken to, keeping silence when not, and in every
way comporting herself as a model child. Davy, blissfully dirty, was
making mud pies in the barnyard.
"I told him he might," said Marilla wearily. "I thought it would
keep him out of worse mischief. He can only get dirty at that.
We'll have our teas over before we call him to his. Dora can have
hers with us, but I would never dare to let Davy sit down at the
table with all the Aids here."
When Anne went to call the Aids to tea she found that Dora was not
in the parlor. Mrs. Jasper Bell said Davy had come to the front
door and called her out. A hasty consultation with Marilla in the
pantry resulted in a decision to let both children have their teas
together later on.
Tea was half over when the dining room was invaded by a forlorn
figure. Marilla and Anne stared in dismay, the Aids in amazement.
Could that be Dora. . .that sobbing nondescript in a drenched,
dripping dress and hair from which the water was streaming on
Marilla's new coin-spot rug?
"Dora, what has happened to you?" cried Anne, with a guilty glance
at Mrs. Jasper Bell, whose family was said to be the only one in
the world in which accidents never occurred.
"Davy made me walk the pigpen fence," wailed Dora. "I didn't want
to but he called me a fraid-cat. And I fell off into the pigpen and
my dress got all dirty and the pig runned right over me. My dress
was just awful but Davy said if I'd stand under the pump he'd wash
it clean, and I did and he pumped water all over me but my dress
ain't a bit cleaner and my pretty sash and shoes is all spoiled."
Anne did the honors of the table alone for the rest of the meal
while Marilla went upstairs and redressed Dora in her old clothes.
Davy was caught and sent to bed without any supper. Anne went to
his room at twilight and talked to him seriously. . .a method in
which she had great faith, not altogether unjustified by results.
She told him she felt very badly over his conduct.
"I feel sorry now myself," admitted Davy, "but the trouble is I
never feel sorry for doing things till after I've did them.
Dora wouldn't help me make pies, cause she was afraid of messing her
clo'es and that made me hopping mad. I s'pose Paul Irving wouldn't
have made HIS sister walk a pigpen fence if he knew she'd fall in?"
"No, he would never dream of such a thing. Paul is a perfect
little gentleman."
Davy screwed his eyes tight shut and seemed to meditate on this for
a time. Then he crawled up and put his arms about Anne's neck,
snuggling his flushed little face down on her shoulder.
"Anne, don't you like me a little bit, even if I ain't a good boy like Paul?"
"Indeed I do," said Anne sincerely. Somehow, it was impossible to help
liking Davy. "But I'd like you better still if you weren't so naughty."
"I. . .did something else today," went on Davy in a muffled voice.
"I'm sorry now but I'm awful scared to tell you. You won't be very
cross, will you? And you won't tell Marilla, will you?"
"I don't know, Davy. Perhaps I ought to tell her. But I think I
can promise you I won't if you promise me that you will never do it
again, whatever it is."
"No, I never will. Anyhow, it's not likely I'd find any more of
them this year. I found this one on the cellar steps."
"Davy, what is it you've done?"
"I put a toad in Marilla's bed. You can go and take it out if you like.
But say, Anne, wouldn't it be fun to leave it there?"
"Davy Keith!" Anne sprang from Davy's clinging arms and flew across
the hall to Marilla's room. The bed was slightly rumpled. She
threw back the blankets in nervous haste and there in very truth
was the toad, blinking at her from under a pillow.
"How can I carry that awful thing out?" moaned Anne with a shudder.
The fire shovel suggested itself to her and she crept down to get it
while Marilla was busy in the pantry. Anne had her own troubles carrying
that toad downstairs, for it hopped off the shovel three times and
once she thought she had lost it in the hall. When she finally
deposited it in the cherry orchard she drew a long breath of relief.
"If Marilla knew she'd never feel safe getting into bed again in
her life. I'm so glad that little sinner repented in time.
There's Diana signaling to me from her window. I'm glad. . .I
really feel the need of some diversion, for what with Anthony Pye
in school and Davy Keith at home my nerves have had about all they
can endure for one day."
