Marilla walked home one late April evening and realized happily that winter was over.
She looked affectionately at Green Gables, and looked forward to a warm fire and a cup of tea with Anne.
When she got home, the fire wasn't lit, and there was no sign of Anne anywhere. Marilla was disappointed and irritated.
By the time Marilla got dinner ready, it was dark, and Anne had still not come home.
Marilla went upstairs and found Anne lying on the bed, face down among the pillows.
"My goodness!" said the astonished Marilla. "Have you been asleep, Anne?"
"No," was the muffled reply.
"Are you sick then?" asked Marilla anxiously. Marilla moved closer to the bed.
"No. But please, Marilla, go away and don't look at me.
I'll never be able to go anywhere again."
"Anne Shirley, what's the matter?" said Marilla.
Anne turned over. "Look at my hair, Marilla," she whispered.
Marilla lifted her candle and looked closely. Anne's hair certainly looked very strange.
"Anne, what have you done? Why, your hair is green!" And it was green.
Never in all her life had Marilla seen anything so ugly as Anne's hair at that moment.
"Yes, it's green," moaned Anne. "I thought nothing could be as bad as red hair.
But now I know it's ten times worse to have green hair."
"Anne," Marilla said, "I've been expecting something to happen because you haven't done anything strange for two months! How did your hair turn green?"
"I dyed it."
"Dyed it? You dyed your hair?" Marilla looked at Anne sternly.
"Well," continued Marilla sarcastically, "I would have dyed it a decent color, at least. I wouldn't have dyed it green."
"He said it would turn my hair a beautiful raven black," protested Anne.
"Who said that?"
"The peddler that was here this afternoon. I bought the dye from him."
"Anne Shirley! This is what your vanity has done.
Now give your hair a good wash," Marilla said.
Anne washed her hair, but it made no difference. "Oh Marilla, what can I do?
People have forgotten my other mistakes—shouting at Mrs. Lynde, making Diana drunk, jumping on Miss Barry, and cracking a slate on Gilbert Blythe.
But they'll never forget this one."
For the next week, Anne went nowhere and washed her hair every day.
At the end of the week, Marilla said firmly, "It's no use, Anne. Your hair must be cut off."
Anne nodded and wept.
Marilla's haircut was very thorough, and the result was not pretty.
Anne's hair was quite short, and it made a sensation in school on Monday.
But to her relief, nobody guessed the real reason behind her haircut.
However, Josie Pye did tell Anne she looked like a scarecrow.
A few weeks later, the girls were standing at the brook.
In the brook was a small boat. It was Anne's idea that they act out a poem.
"You must be the Lily Maid, Anne," said Diana.
"I'm not brave enough to float down the river."
"But it's ridiculous to have a redheaded Lily Maid," said Anne.
"Your hair is much darker since you cut it," said Diana earnestly.
"Really?" exclaimed Anne, flushing with delight. Then she went back to deciding the parts for their skit.
"I'll be the Lily Maid," she agreed reluctantly.
"Ruby, you be King Arthur, and Diana must be Lancelot."
Anne lay down in the boat, closed her eyes and folded her hands on her chest.
"She really looks dead," whispered Ruby Gillis.
Instead of lilies Diana placed a posy of violets in Anne's hands.
"Now she's ready," said Ruby. The girls kissed the "Lily Maid" and pushed the boat off.
For a few minutes, as the boat slowly drifted, Anne enjoyed the romance of her journey.
Then something very unromantic happened. The boat began to leak.
The Lily Maid was forced to get up and look at the big crack, through which water was pouring.
Anne gave a gasping little scream that nobody heard, and then she went pale.
But she stayed calm. There was one chance—just one.
Anne prayed that the boat would keep drifting toward the bridge and float near one of its columns.
The columns were made of old tree trunks, with branch stubs that she could sit on.
Anne's prayer was answered. The boat drifted under the bridge, and Anne scrambled onto a column.
She sat there, with no way of getting up or down.
The boat kept drifting and then sank.
Ruby and Diana waited farther down the brook, and they saw the boat disappear underwater.
They went white as sheets, shrieked, and ran off.
For the unlucky Lily Maid, the minutes ticked by, each one like an hour.
Why didn't someone come? Where had her friends gone? Suppose nobody came!
Just when Anne thought she could hold on no longer, Gilbert Blythe rowed toward her.
"Anne Shirley! How did you get there?" he exclaimed. He helped Anne into his boat.
She sat there, furious and soaking wet. "What happened?" asked Gilbert.
"We were playing, and I was the Lily Maid," Anne said, not even looking at Gilbert.
"I had to float to Camelot—I mean, down the brook. The boat leaked, and I had to get out.
Can you row me to the bank?" asked Anne.
Gilbert obliged.
"I'm very grateful," said Anne haughtily.
"Anne," he said quickly, "I'm sorry I made fun of your hair.
It was only a joke. Besides, it was so long ago. Can't we be friends?"
For a moment Anne hesitated. Her heart gave a strange, quick little beat.
But then the scene of two years ago flashed in her head, like it had happened yesterday.
She hated Gilbert Blythe! She would never forgive him!
"No," she said coldly. "I will never be friends with you, Gilbert Blythe."
"All right!" Gilbert went down to his boat, his cheeks red.
"I'll never ask you to be friends again, Anne Shirley.
And I don't care either!" He rowed away furiously.
As Anne walked home, she held her head high, but she was conscious of an odd feeling—regret.