had come to Green Gables, for Mrs. Lynde could not live with anybody, whether
they were nine or ninety, without trying to bring them up properly. And it was
only the preceding afternoon that she had interfered to influence Marilla against
allowing Davy to go fishing with the Timothy Cottons. Davy was still boiling
over this.
As soon as he was out of the lane Davy stopped and twisted his countenance
into such an unearthly and terrific contortion that Dora, although she knew his
gifts in that respect, was honestly alarmed lest he should never in the world be
able to get it straightened out again.
“Darn her,” exploded Davy.
“Oh, Davy, don’t swear,” gasped Dora in dismay.
“‘Darn’ isn’t swearing—not real swearing. And I don’t care if it is,” retorted
Davy recklessly.
“Well, if you MUST say dreadful words don’t say them on Sunday,” pleaded
Dora.
Davy was as yet far from repentance, but in his secret soul he felt that,
perhaps, he had gone a little too far.
“I’m going to invent a swear word of my own,” he declared.
“God will punish you if you do,” said Dora solemnly.
“Then I think God is a mean old scamp,” retorted Davy. “Doesn’t He know a
fellow must have some way of ‘spressing his feelings?”
“Davy!!!” said Dora. She expected that Davy would be struck down dead on
the spot. But nothing happened.
“Anyway, I ain’t going to stand any more of Mrs. Lynde’s bossing,”
spluttered Davy. “Anne and Marilla may have the right to boss me, but SHE
hasn’t. I’m going to do every single thing she told me not to do. You watch me.”
In grim, deliberate silence, while Dora watched him with the fascination of
horror, Davy stepped off the green grass of the roadside, ankle deep into the fine
dust which four weeks of rainless weather had made on the road, and marched
along in it, shuffling his feet viciously until he was enveloped in a hazy cloud.
“That’s the beginning,” he announced triumphantly. “And I’m going to stop in
the porch and talk as long as there’s anybody there to talk to. I’m going to
squirm and wriggle and whisper, and I’m going to say I don’t know the Golden
Text. And I’m going to throw away both of my collections RIGHT NOW.”
And Davy hurled cent and nickel over Mr. Barry’s fence with fierce delight.