Still Matthew said nothing and Marilla had a sense of having wasted words and breath. There is nothing more aggravating than a man who won't talk back-unless it is a woman who won't.
Matthew hitched the sorrel into the buggy in due time and Marilla and Anne set off. Matthew opened the yard gate for them and as they drove slowly through, he said, to nobody in particular as it seemed:
"Little Jerry Buote from the Creek was here this morning, and I told him I guessed I'd hire him for the summer."
Marilla made no reply, but she hit the unlucky sorrel such a vicious clip with the whip that the fat mare, unused to such treatment, whizzed indignantly down the lane at an alarming pace.
Marilla looked back once as the buggy bounced along and saw that aggravating Matthew leaning over the gate, looking wistfully after them.
CHAPTER V. Anne's History
"Do you know," said Anne confidentially, "I've made up my mind to enjoy this drive.
It's been my experience that you can nearly always enjoy things if you make up your mind firmly that you will.
Of course, you must make it up FIRMLY.
I am not going to think about going back to the asylum while we're having our drive.