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Anne of the Island

XIII. The Way of Transgressors
Davy and Dora were ready for Sunday School. They were going alone, which did not
often happen, for Mrs. Lynde always attended Sunday School. But Mrs. Lynde had
twisted her ankle and was lame, so she was staying home this morning. The twins were
also to represent the family at church, for Anne had gone away the evening before to
spend Sunday with friends in Carmody, and Marilla had one of her headaches.
Davy came downstairs slowly. Dora was waiting in the hall for him, having been made
ready by Mrs. Lynde. Davy had attended to his own preparations. He had a cent in his
pocket for the Sunday School collection, and a five-cent piece for the church collection;
he carried his Bible in one hand and his Sunday School quarterly in the other; he knew
his lesson and his Golden Text and his catechism question perfectly. Had he not
studied them--perforce--in Mrs. Lynde's kitchen, all last Sunday afternoon? Davy,
therefore, should have been in a placid frame of mind. As a matter of fact, despite text
and catechism, he was inwardly as a ravening wolf.
Mrs. Lynde limped out of her kitchen as he joined Dora.
"Are you clean?" she demanded severely.
"Yes--all of me that shows," Davy answered with a defiant scowl.
Mrs. Rachel sighed. She had her suspicions about Davy's neck and ears. But she knew
that if she attempted to make a personal examination Davy would likely take to his heels
and she could not pursue him today.
"Well, be sure you behave yourselves," she warned them. "Don't walk in the dust. Don't
stop in the porch to talk to the other children. Don't squirm or wriggle in your places.
Don't forget the Golden Text. Don't lose your collection or forget to put it in. Don't
whisper at prayer time, and don't forget to pay attention to the sermon."
Davy deigned no response. He marched away down the lane, followed by the meek
Dora. But his soul seethed within. Davy had suffered, or thought he had suffered, many
things at the hands and tongue of Mrs. Rachel Lynde since she had come to Green
Gables, for Mrs. Lynde could not live with anybody, whether they were nine or ninety,
without trying to bring them up properly. And it was only the preceding afternoon that
she had interfered to influence Marilla against allowing Davy to go fishing with the
Timothy Cottons. Davy was still boiling over this.
As soon as he was out of the lane Davy stopped and twisted his countenance into such
an unearthly and terrific contortion that Dora, although she knew his gifts in that respect,
was honestly alarmed lest he should never in the world be able to get it straightened out
again.
 
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