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Anne ended a week that had been full of pleasant days by taking flowers to Matthew’s grave the next morning and in the afternoon she took the train from Carmody home. For a time she thought of all the old loved things behind her and then her thoughts ran ahead of her to the loved things before her. Her heart sang all the way because she was going home to a joyous house ... a house where every one who crossed its threshold knew it was a home ... a house that was filled all the time with laughter and silver mugs and snapshots and babies ... precious things with curls and chubby knees ... and rooms that would welcome her ... where the chairs waited patiently and the dresses in her closet were expecting her ... where little anniversaries were always being celebrated and little secrets were always being whispered.
“It’s lovely to feel you like going home,” thought Anne, fishing out of her purse a certain letter from a small son over which she had laughed gaily the night before, reading it proudly to the Green Gables folks ... the first letter she had ever received from any of her children. It was quite a nice little letter for a seven-year-old who had been going to school only a year to write, even though Jem’s spelling was a bit uncertain and there was a big blob of ink in one corner.
“Di cryed and cryed all night because Tommy Drew told her he was going to burn her doll at the steak. Susan tells us nice tails at night but she isn’t you, mummy. She let me help her sow the beats last night.”
“How could I have been happy for a whole week away from them all?” thought the chatelaine of Ingleside self-reproachfully.
“How nice to have someone meet you at the end of a journey!” she cried, as she stepped off the train at Glen St. Mary into Gilbert’s waiting arms. She could never be sure Gilbert would meet her ... somebody was always dying or being born ... but no homecoming ever seemed just right to Anne unless he did. And he had on such a nice new light-grey suit!(How glad I am I put on this frilly eggshell blouse with my brown suit, even if Mrs. Lynde thought I was crazy to wear it travelling. If I hadn’t I wouldn’t have looked so nice for Gilbert.)
Ingleside was all lighted up, with gay Japanese lanterns hanging on the veranda. Anne ran gaily along the walk bordered by daffodils.
“Ingleside, I’m here!” she called.
They were all around her ... laughing, exclaiming, jesting ... with Susan Baker smiling properly in the background. Everyone of the children had a bouquet picked specially for her, even the two-year-old Shirley.
“Oh, this is a nice welcome home! Everything about Ingleside looks so happy. It’s splendid to think my family are so glad to see me.”
“If you ever go away from home again, Mummy,” said Jem solemnly, “I’ll go and take appensitis.”
“How do you go about taking it?” asked Walter.
“S-s-sh!” Jem nudged Walter secretly and whispered, “There’s a pain somewhere, I know ... but I just want to scare Mummy so she won’t go away.”
Anne wanted to do a hundred things first ... hug everybody ... run out in the twilight and gather some of her pansies ... you found pansies everywhere at Ingleside ... pick up the little well-worn doll lying on the rug ... hear all the juicy tidbits of gossip and news, everyone contributing something. How Nan had got the top off a tube of vaseline up her nose when the doctor was out on a case and Susan had all but gone distracted ... “I assure you it was an anxious time, Mrs. Dr. dear” ... how Mrs. Jud Palmer’s cow had eaten fifty-seven wire nails and had to have a vet from Charlottetown ... how absent-minded Mrs. Fenner Douglas had gone to church bare-headed ... how Dad had dug all the dandelions out of the lawn ... “between babies, Mrs. Dr. dear ... he’s had eight while you were away” ... how Mr. Tom Flagg had dyed his moustache ... “and his wife only dead two years” ... how Rose Maxwell of the Harbour Head had jilted Jim Hudson of the Upper Glen and he had sent her a bill for all he had spent on her ... what a splendid turn-out there had been at Mrs. Amasa Warren’s funeral ... how Carter Flagg’s cat had had a piece bitten right out of the root of its tail ... how Shirley had been found in a stable standing right under one of the horses ... “Mrs. Dr. dear, never shall I be the same woman again” ... how there was sadly too much reason to fear that the blue plum trees were developing black knot ... how Di had gone about the whole day singing, “Mummy’s coming home today, home today, home today” to the tune of “Merrily We Roll Along” ... how the Joe Reeses had a kitten that was cross-eyed because it had been born with its eyes open ... how Jem had inadvertently sat on some fly-paper before he had put his little trousers on ... and how the Shrimp had fallen into the soft-water puncheon.
“He was nearly drowned, Mrs. Dr. dear, but luckily the doctor heard his howls in the nick of time and pulled him out by his hind-legs.” (What is the nick of time, Mummy?)
“He seems to have recovered nicely from it,” said Anne, stroking the glossy black-and-white curves of a contented pussy with huge jowls, purring on a chair in the firelight. It was never quite safe to sit down on a chair at Ingleside without first making sure there wasn’t a cat in it. Susan, who had not cared much for cats to begin with, vowed she had to learn to like them in self-defense. As for the Shrimp, Gilbert had called him that a year ago when Nan had brought the miserable, scrawny kitten home from the village where some boys had been torturing it, and the name clung, though it was very inappropriate now.
“But ... Susan! What has become of Gog and Magog? Oh ... they haven’t been broken, have they?”
“No, no, Mrs. Dr. dear,” exclaimed Susan, turning a deep brick-red from shame and dashing out of the room. She returned shortly with the two china dogs which always presided at the hearth of Ingleside. “I do not see how I could have forgotten to put them back before you came. You see, Mrs. Dr. dear, Mrs. Charles Day from Charlottetown called here the day after you left ... and you know how very precise and proper she is. Walter thought he ought to entertain her and he started in by pointing out the dogs to her. ‘This one is God and this is My God,’ he said, poor innocent child. I was horrified ... though I thought that die I would to see Mrs. Day’s face. I explained as best I could, for I did not want her to think us a profane family, but I decided I would just put the dogs away in the china closet, out of sight, till you got back.”
“Mummy, can’t we have supper soon?” said Jem pathetically. “I’ve got a gnawful feeling in the pit of my stomach. And oh, Mummy, we’ve made everybody’s favourite dish!”
“We, as the flea said to the elephant, have done that very thing,” said Susan with a grin. “We thought that your return should be suitably celebrated, Mrs. Dr. dear. And now where is Walter? It is his week to ring the gong for meals, bless his heart.”
Supper was a gala meal ... and putting all the babies to bed afterwards was a delight. Susan even allowed her to put Shirley to bed, seeing what a very special occasion it was.
“This is no common day, Mrs. Dr. dear,” she said solemnly.
“Oh, Susan, there is no such thing as a common day. Every day has something about it no other day has. Haven’t you noticed?”
“How true that is, Mrs. Dr. dear. Even last Friday now, when it rained all day, and was so dull, my big pink geranium showed buds at last after refusing to bloom for three long years. And have you noticed the calceolarias, Mrs. Dr. dear?”
“Noticed them! I never saw such calceolarias in my life, Susan. How do you manage it?” (There, I’ve made Susan happy and haven’t told a fib. I never did see such calceolarias ... thank heaven!)
“It is the result of constant care and attention, Mrs. Dr. dear. But there is something I think I ought to speak of. I think Walter suspects something. No doubt some of the Glen children have said things to him. So many children nowadays know so much more than is fitting. Walter said to me the other day, very thoughtful-like, ‘Susan,’ he said, ‘are babiesvery expensive?’ I was a bit dumfounded, Mrs. Dr. dear, but I kept my head. ‘Some folks think they are luxuries,’ I said, ‘but at Ingleside we think they are necessities.’ And I reproached myself with having complained aloud about the shameful price of things in all the Glen stores. I am afraid it worried the child. But if he says anything to you, Mrs. Dr. dear, you will be prepared.”
“I’m sure you handled the situation beautifully, Susan,” said Anne gravely. “And I think it is time they all knew what we are hoping for.”
But the best of all was when Gilbert came to her, as she stood at her window, watching a fog creeping in from the sea, over the moonlit dunes and the harbour, right into the long narrow valley upon which Ingleside looked down and in which nestled the village of Glen St. Mary.
“To come back at the end of a hard day and find you! Are you happy, Annest of Annes?”
“Happy!” Anne bent to sniff a vaseful of apple blossoms Jem had set on her dressing-table. She felt surrounded and encompassed by love. “Gilbert dear, it’s been lovely to be Anne of Green Gables again for a week, but it’s a hundred times lovelier to come back and be Anne of Ingleside.”