In the Woods When First We Met

177. Harm, Part I

"It's not a metaphor, it's a simile."

Gilbert glanced through the school notes he'd written for her. "No wonder you didn't get it- I never wrote down the difference. I'm sorry."

Anne sighed. "It's all right," she told him, putting her pencil down. "I really shouldn't be letting you do this, Gilbert. It isn't fair to you. You're having to re-write all your notes every day. And you're in school all day and coming home to do even more school. ...And today you skipped church to come see me."

"There wasn't any point in going if I wasn't going to see you there," Gilbert said, smiling at her.

"Right. There's God and all, but what does He matter, if I'm not there?" Anne said sarcastically, with a hint of a smile.

"Exactly. Now you know how I feel."

Anne shook her head, laughing with a blush.

Gilbert watched her. The beauty of the church bells faded in comparison to her laughter.

Then she said, "But I still don't like you doing all this work for me."

Gilbert shook his head. "Going over it all again helps me to remember things. They say you know you've really learned something if you're able to teach it to someone else. Besides, you'll be back at school soon enough and then you won't need my help anymore. Let me enjoy it while I can."

Anne smiled a small smile.

"Have Mr. or Miss Cuthbert said anything about you coming back?"

"No," she said sadly.

"Maybe they're trying to work out some plan to have you go to school but be apart from Billy," Gilbert suggested.

"Considering it's one room, I don't see how."

"Maybe they're wanting you to switch off days or something. So you're not there at the same time as each other," Gilbert thought of. "I'm not sure how well that would work, but it's a thought."

"Maybe," she said, stretching. She was tired of doing school work. She looked at the clock. "It's past lunchtime," she told him. "I'm going to make us lunch."

Gilbert closed his book. "Sounds good to me. What can I do?"

She got up. "You can keep the house from burning down."

"Okay," he laughed.

Anne explained, "Marilla doesn't like me to use the stove when I'm by myself. But I'm not by myself, you're here."

"I see. Well, I will dutifully keep the house from burning down. And if I fail and it burns down around us, I will save you from the ravaging flames."

"My hero," Anne said dryly.

"I'll go use the privy, be right back." Gilbert slipped out the back door.

Anne turned the stove on low and got leftover mashed potatoes from the pantry, taking the cheesecloth off. She put a little oil in a pan. She was going to make potato pancakes.

Suddenly the front door seemed to burst open. Had it blown open with the wind? It was flung open too abruptly for it to be Matthew and Marilla. She heard footsteps, but it couldn't be Gilbert- it was too soon for him to be back, and he'd have used the kitchen door. But if it wasn't Matthew or Marilla, and it wasn't Gilbert...whoever it was should have knocked before entering. She slowly turned the knob on the stove, to turn off the burner, as she listened. 

She timidly crept toward the parlor.

An angry figure greeted her. The spatula she'd been holding clattered to the floor.

It wasn't very common for people to lock their doors, in a small, safe farming community in this day and age.

But after this moment, Anne would never again leave a door unlocked.