bank and stuck his head right into the spring to show them. Oh, it wasn’t the
spring we drink out of . . .” seeing a horrified look on Marilla’s face . . . “it was
the little one lower down. But the bank’s awful slippy and Paul went right in. I
tell you he made a bully splash. Oh, Anne, Anne, I didn’t mean to say that . . . it
just slipped out before I thought. He made a SPLENDID splash. But he looked
so funny when he crawled out, all wet and muddy. The girls laughed more’n
ever, but Gracie didn’t laugh. She looked sorry. Gracie’s a nice girl but she’s got
a snub nose. When I get big enough to have a girl I won’t have one with a snub
nose . . . I’ll pick one with a pretty nose like yours, Anne.”
“A boy who makes such a mess of syrup all over his face when he is eating
his pudding will never get a girl to look at him,” said Marilla severely.
“But I’ll wash my face before I go courting,” protested Davy, trying to
improve matters by rubbing the back of his hand over the smears. “And I’ll wash
behind my ears too, without being told. I remembered to this morning, Marilla. I
don’t forget half as often as I did. But . . .” and Davy sighed . . . “there’s so
many corners about a fellow that it’s awful hard to remember them all. Well, if I
can’t go to Miss Lavendar’s I’ll go over and see Mrs. Harrison. Mrs. Harrison’s
an awful nice woman, I tell you. She keeps a jar of cookies in her pantry a-
purpose for little boys, and she always gives me the scrapings out of a pan she’s
mixed up a plum cake in. A good many plums stick to the sides, you see. Mr.
Harrison was always a nice man, but he’s twice as nice since he got married over
again. I guess getting married makes folks nicer. Why don’t YOU get married,
Marilla? I want to know.”
Marilla’s state of single blessedness had never been a sore point with her, so
she answered amiably, with an exchange of significant looks with Anne, that she
supposed it was because nobody would have her.
“But maybe you never asked anybody to have you,” protested Davy.
“Oh, Davy,” said Dora primly, shocked into speaking without being spoken
to, “it’s the MEN that have to do the asking.”
“I don’t know why they have to do it ALWAYS,” grumbled Davy. “Seems to
me everything’s put on the men in this world. Can I have some more pudding,
Marilla?”
“You’ve had as much as was good for you,” said Marilla; but she gave him a
moderate second helping.
“I wish people could live on pudding. Why can’t they, Marilla? I want to
know.”
“Because they’d soon get tired of it.”