"Matthew Cuthbert, who's that?" she ejaculated. "Where is the
boy?" Matthew had been to the train station to fetch the child they
were to adopt, a boy. Marilla had insisted on a boy.
"There wasn't any boy," said Matthew wretchedly. "There was only
"her.""
He nodded at the girl. He didn't know her name. He was
embarrassed to realize that he had never even asked her name.
"No boy But there "must" have been a boy," insisted Marilla. "We
sent word to Mrs. Spencer to bring a boy."
"Well, she didn't. She brought "her." I asked the
station-master. And I had to bring her home. She couldn't be left
there, no matter where the mistake had come in."
"Well, this is a pretty piece of business " ejaculated
Marilla.
During this dialogue the child had remained silent, her eyes
roving from one to the other, all the animation fading out of her
face. Suddenly she seemed to grasp the full meaning of what had
been said. Dropping her precious carpet-bag she sprang forward a
step and clasped her hands.
"You don't want me " she cried. "You don't want me because I'm
not a boy I might have expected it. Nobody ever did want me. I
might have known it was all too beautiful to last. I might have
known nobody really did want me. Oh, what shall I do? I'm going to
burst into tears "
And burst into tears the little girl did. . . .
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