w had something on
his mind, but what it was she could not guess, until Christmas Eve,
when Mrs. Lynde brought up the new dress. Marilla behaved pretty well
on the whole, although it is very likely she distrusted Mrs. Lynde's
diplomatic explanation that she had made the dress because Matthew was
afraid Anne would find out about it too soon if Marilla made it.

"So this is what Matthew has been looking so mysterious over and
grinning about to himself for two weeks, is it?" she said a little
stiffly but tolerantly. "I knew he was up to some foolishness. Well, I
must say I don't think Anne needed any more dresses. I made her three
good, warm, serviceable ones this fall, and anything more is sheer
extravagance. There's enough material in those sleeves alone to make a
waist, I declare there is. You'll just pamper Anne's vanity, Matthew,
and she's as vain as a peacock now. Well, I hope she'll be satisfied
at last, for I know she's been hankering after those silly sleeves
ever since they came in, although she never said a word after the
first. The puffs have been getting bigger and more ridiculous right
along; they're as big as balloons now. Next year anybody who wears
them will have to go through a door sideways."

Christmas morning broke on a beautiful white world. It had been a very
mild December and people had looked forward to a green Christmas; but
just enough snow fell softly in the night to transfigure Avonlea. Anne
peeped out from her frosted gable window with delighted eyes. The firs
in the Haunted Wood were all feathery and wonderful; the birches and
wild cherry trees were outlined in pearl; the ploughed fields were
stretches of snowy dimples; and there was a crisp tang in the air that
was glorious. Anne ran downstairs singing until her voice re-echoed
through Green Gables.

"Merry Christmas, Marilla! Merry Christmas, Matthew! Isn't it a lovely
Christmas? I'm so glad it's white. Any other kind of Christmas doesn't
seem real, does it? I don't like green Christmases. They're _not_
green--they're just nasty faded browns and greys. What makes people
call them green? Why--why--Matthew, is that for me? Oh, Matthew!"

Matthew had sheepishly unfolded the dress from its paper swathings and
held it out with a deprecatory glance at Marilla, who feigned to be
contemptuously filling the teapot, but nevertheless watched the scene
out of the corner of her eye with a rather interested air.

Anne took the dress and looked at it