muddy. The girls laughed more’n ever, but Gracie didn’t laugh. She looked sorry. Gracie’s a nice girl but she’s got a snub nose. When I get big enough to have a girl I won’t have one with a snub nose . . . I’ll pick one with a pretty nose like yours, Anne.”
“A boy who makes such a mess of syrup all over his face when he is eating his pudding will never get a girl to look at him,” said Marilla severely.
“But I’ll wash my face before I go courting,” protested Davy, trying to improve matters by rubbing the back of his hand over the smears. “And I’ll wash behind my ears too, without being told. I remembered to this morning, Marilla. I don’t forget half as often as I did. But . . . ” and Davy sighed . . . “there’s so many corners about a fellow that it’s awful hard to remember them all. Well, if I can’t go to Miss Lavendar’s I’ll go over and see Mrs. Harrison. Mrs. Harrison’s an awful nice woman, I tell you. She keeps a jar of cookies in her pantry a-purpose for little boys, and she always gives me the scrapings out of a pan she’s mixed up a plum cake in. A good many plums stick to the sides, you see. Mr. Harrison was always a nice man, but he’s twice as nice since he got married over again. I guess getting married makes folks nicer. Why don’t you get married, Marilla? I want to know.”
Marilla’s state of single blessedness had never been a sore point with her, so she answered amiably, with an exchange of significant looks with Anne, that she supposed it was because nobody would have her.
