Picture Dictionary & Books : Free for English Learner!

"Don't speak of your going away tonight," begged Diana. "I don't want to think of it, it makes me so miserable, and I do want to have a good time this evening. What are you going to recite, Anne? And are you nervous?"

"Not a bit. I've recited so often in public I don't mind at all now. I've decided to give 'The Maiden's Vow.' It's so pathetic. Laura Spencer is going to give a comic recitation, but I'd rather make people cry than laugh."

"What will you recite if they encore you?"

"They won't dream of encoring me," scoffed Anne, who was not without her own secret hopes that they would, and already visioned herself telling Matthew all about it at the next morning's breakfast table. "There are Billy and Jane now-I hear the wheels. Come on."

Billy Andrews insisted that Anne should ride on the front seat with him, so she unwillingly climbed up.

She would have much preferred to sit back with the girls, where she could have laughed and chattered to her heart's content.

There was not much of either laughter or chatter in Billy.

He was a big, fat, stolid youth of twenty, with a round, expressionless face, and a painful lack of conversational gifts.

But he admired Anne immensely, and was puffed up with pride over the prospect of driving to White Sands with that slim, upright figure beside him.

Anne, by dint of talking over her shoulder to the girls and occasionally passing a sop of civility to Billy-who grinned and chuckled and never could think of any reply until it was too late-contrived to enjoy the drive in spite of all.

It was a night for enjoyment.

The road was full of buggies, all bound for the hotel, and laughter, silver clear, echoed and reechoed along it.

When they reached the hotel it was a blaze of light from top to bottom.

They were met by the ladies of the concert committee, one of whom took Anne off to the performers' dressing room which was filled with the members of a Charlottetown Symphony Club, among whom Anne felt suddenly shy and frightened and countrified.

Her dress, which, in the east gable, had seemed so dainty and pretty, now seemed simple and plain-too simple and plain, she thought, among all the silks and laces that glistened and rustled around her.

What were her pearl beads compared to the diamonds of the big, handsome lady near her? And how poor her one wee white rose must look beside all the hothouse flowers the others wore! Anne laid her hat and jacket away, and shrank miserably into a corner.

She wished herself back in the white room at Green Gables.

It was still worse on the platform of the big concert hall of the hotel, where she presently found herself.

The electric lights dazzled her eyes, the perfume and hum bewildered her.

She wished she were sitting down in the audience with Diana and Jane, who seemed to be having a splendid time away at the back.

She was wedged in between a stout lady in pink silk and a tall, scornful-looking girl in a white-lace dress.

The stout lady occasionally turned her head squarely around and surveyed Anne through her eyeglasses until Anne, acutely sensitive of being so scrutinized, felt that she must scream aloud; and the white-lace girl kept talking audibly to her next neighbor about the "country bumpkins" and "rustic belles" in the audience, languidly anticipating "such fun" from the displays of local talent on the program.

Anne believed that she would hate that white-lace girl to the end of life.

Unfortunately for Anne, a professional elocutionist was staying at the hotel and had consented to recite.

She was a lithe, dark-eyed woman in a wonderful gown of shimmering gray stuff like woven moonbeams, with gems on her neck and in her dark hair.

Table of Contents