Anne choked a little over the word—“baking powder.”
“Oh, I put that in,” said Diana, reassured. “It was as easy as wink—and of
course my experience in our old Story Club helped me. You know the scene
where Averil makes the cake? Well, I just stated that she used the Rollings
Reliable in it, and that was why it turned out so well; and then, in the last
paragraph, where PERCEVAL clasps AVERIL in his arms and says,
‘Sweetheart, the beautiful coming years will bring us the fulfilment of our home
of dreams,’ I added, ‘in which we will never use any baking powder except
Rollings Reliable.’”
“Oh,” gasped poor Anne, as if some one had dashed cold water on her.
“And you’ve won the twenty-five dollars,” continued Diana jubilantly. “Why,
I heard Priscilla say once that the Canadian Woman only pays five dollars for a
story!”
Anne held out the hateful pink slip in shaking fingers.
“I can’t take it—it’s yours by right, Diana. You sent the story in and made the
alterations. I—I would certainly never have sent it. So you must take the check.”
“I’d like to see myself,” said Diana scornfully. “Why, what I did wasn’t any
trouble. The honor of being a friend of the prizewinner is enough for me. Well, I
must go. I should have gone straight home from the post office for we have
company. But I simply had to come and hear the news. I’m so glad for your
sake, Anne.”
Anne suddenly bent forward, put her arms about Diana, and kissed her cheek.
“I think you are the sweetest and truest friend in the world, Diana,” she said,
with a little tremble in her voice, “and I assure you I appreciate the motive of
what you’ve done.”
Diana, pleased and embarrassed, got herself away, and poor Anne, after
flinging the innocent check into her bureau drawer as if it were blood-money,
cast herself on her bed and wept tears of shame and outraged sensibility. Oh, she
could never live this down—never!
Gilbert arrived at dusk, brimming over with congratulations, for he had called
at Orchard Slope and heard the news. But his congratulations died on his lips at
sight of Anne’s face.
“Why, Anne, what is the matter? I expected to find you radiant over winning
Rollings Reliable prize. Good for you!”
“Oh, Gilbert, not you,” implored Anne, in an ET-TU BRUTE tone. “I thought
YOU would understand. Can’t you see how awful it is?”