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“
Mrs
.
Spencer
said
that
my
tongue
must
be
hung
in
the
middle
.
But
it
isn
’
t
—
it
’
s
firmly
fastened
at
one
end
.
Mrs
.
Spencer
said
your
place
was
named
Green
Gables
.
I
asked
her
all
about
it
.
And
she
said
there
were
trees
all
around
it
.
I
was
gladder
than
ever
.
I
just
love
trees
.
And
there
weren
’
t
any
at
all
about
the
asylum
,
only
a
few
poor
weeny
-
teeny
things
out
in
front
with
little
whitewashed
cagey
things
about
them
.
They
just
looked
like
orphans
themselves
,
those
trees
did
.
It
used
to
make
me
want
to
cry
to
look
at
them
.
I
used
to
say
to
them
,
‘
Oh
,
you
poor
little
things
!
If
you
were
out
in
a
great
big
woods
with
other
trees
all
around
you
and
little
mosses
and
June
bells
growing
over
your
roots
and
a
brook
not
far
away
and
birds
singing
in
you
branches
,
you
could
grow
,
couldn
’
t
you
?
But
you
can
’
t
where
you
are
.
I
know
just
exactly
how
you
feel
,
little
trees
.
’
I
felt
sorry
to
leave
them
behind
this
morning
.
You
do
get
so
attached
to
things
like
that
,
don
’
t
you
?
Is
there
a
brook
anywhere
near
Green
Gables
?
I
forgot
to
ask
Mrs
.
Spencer
that
.
”
“
Well
now
,
yes
,
there
’
s
one
right
below
the
house
.
”
“
Fancy
.
It
’
s
always
been
one
of
my
dreams
to
live
near
a
brook
.
I
never
expected
I
would
,
though
.
Dreams
don
’
t
often
come
true
,
do
they
?
Wouldn
’
t
it
be
nice
if
they
did
?
But
just
now
I
feel
pretty
nearly
perfectly
happy
.
I
can
’
t
feel
exactly
perfectly
happy
because
—
well
,
what
color
would
you
call
this
?
”
She
twitched
one
of
her
long
glossy
braids
over
her
thin
shoulder
and
held
it
up
before
Matthew
’
s
eyes
.
Matthew
was
not
used
to
deciding
on
the
tints
of
ladies
’
tresses
,
but
in
this
case
there
couldn
’
t
be
much
doubt
.
“
It
’
s
red
,
ain
’
t
it
?
”
he
said
.
The
girl
let
the
braid
drop
back
with
a
sigh
that
seemed
to
come
from
her
very
toes
and
to
exhale
forth
all
the
sorrows
of
the
ages
.
“
Yes
,
it
’
s
red
,
”
she
said
resignedly
.
“
Now
you
see
why
I
can
’
t
be
perfectly
happy
.
Nobody
could
who
has
red
hair
.
I
don
’
t
mind
the
other
things
so
much
—
the
freckles
and
the
green
eyes
and
my
skinniness
.
I
can
imagine
them
away
.
I
can
imagine
that
I
have
a
beautiful
rose
-
leaf
complexion
and
lovely
starry
violet
eyes
.
But
I
cannot
imagine
that
red
hair
away
.
I
do
my
best
.
I
think
to
myself
,
‘
Now
my
hair
is
a
glorious
black
,
black
as
the
raven
’
s
wing
.
’
But
all
the
time
I
know
it
is
just
plain
red
and
it
breaks
my
heart
.
It
will
be
my
lifelong
sorrow
.
I
read
of
a
girl
once
in
a
novel
who
had
a
lifelong
sorrow
but
it
wasn
’
t
red
hair
.
Her
hair
was
pure
gold
rippling
back
from
her
alabaster
brow
.
What
is
an
alabaster
brow
?
I
never
could
find
out
.
Can
you
tell
me
?
”
“
Well
now
,
I
’
m
afraid
I
can
’
t
,
”
said
Matthew
,
who
was
getting
a
little
dizzy
.
He
felt
as
he
had
once
felt
in
his
rash
youth
when
another
boy
had
enticed
him
on
the
merry
-
go
-
round
at
a
picnic
.
