be sure to ask a hundred questions and
somehow I wouldn't like it . . . nor Miss Lavendar either if she knew, I
feel sure."

"I daresay Rachel would be curious," admitted Marilla, "though she
hasn't as much time as she used to have for looking after other people's
affairs. She's tied home now on account of Thomas; and she's feeling
pretty downhearted, for I think she's beginning to lose hope of his ever
getting better. Rachel will be left pretty lonely if anything happens to
him, with all her children settled out west, except Eliza in town; and
she doesn't like her husband."

Marilla's pronouns slandered Eliza, who was very fond of her husband.

"Rachel says if he'd only brace up and exert his will power he'd get
better. But what is the use of asking a jellyfish to sit up straight?"
continued Marilla. "Thomas Lynde never had any will power to exert. His
mother ruled him till he married and then Rachel carried it on. It's a
wonder he dared to get sick without asking her permission. But there, I
shouldn't talk so. Rachel has been a good wife to him. He'd never have
amounted to anything without her, that's certain. He was born to be
ruled; and it's well he fell into the hands of a clever, capable manager
like Rachel. He didn't mind her way. It saved him the bother of ever
making up his own mind about anything. Davy, do stop squirming like an
eel."

"I've nothing else to do," protested Davy. "I can't eat any more, and
it's no fun watching you and Anne eat."

"Well, you and Dora go out and give the hens their wheat," said Marilla.
"And don't you try to pull any more feathers out of the white rooster's
tail either."

"I wanted some feathers for an Injun headdress," said Davy sulkily.
"Milty Boulter has a dandy one, made out of the feathers his mother give
him when she killed their old white gobbler. You might let me have some.
That rooster's got ever so many more'n he wants."

"You may have the old feather duster in the garret," said Anne, "and
I'll dye them green and red and yellow for you."

"You do spoil that boy dreadfully," said Marilla, when Davy, with a
radiant face, had followed prim Dora out. Marilla's education had made
great strides in the past six years; but she had not yet been able to
rid herself of the idea that it was very bad for a child to have too
many of its wishes indulged.

"All the boys of his class have Indian headdresses, and Davy wants one
too," said Anne. "_I_ know how it feels . . . I'l