"Course I do. But you can't be a gemplum till you grow up.""Oh, indeed you can," Anne hastened to say, thinking she saw a chance to sow good seed betimes. "You can begin to be a gentleman when you are a little boy. And gentlemen NEVER snatch things from ladies. . .
or forget to say thank you. . .or pull anybody's hair.""They don't have much fun, that's a fact," said Davy frankly.
"I guess I'll wait till I'm grown up to be one."Marilla, with a resigned air, had cut another piece of cake for Dora.
She did not feel able to cope with Davy just then. It had been a hard day for her, what with the funeral and the long drive.
At that moment she looked forward to the future with a pessimism that would have done credit to Eliza Andrews herself.
The twins were not noticeably alike, although both were fair.
Dora had long sleek curls that never got out of order. Davy had a crop of fuzzy little yellow ringlets all over his round head.
Dora's hazel eyes were gentle and mild; Davy's were as roguish and dancing as an elf's. Dora's nose was straight, Davy's a positive snub; Dora had a "prunes and prisms" mouth, Davy's was all smiles; and besides, he had a dimple in one cheek and none in the other, which gave him a dear, comical, lopsided look when he laughed.
Mirth and mischief lurked in every corner of his little face.
"They'd better go to bed," said Marilla, who thought it was the easiest way to dispose of them. "Dora will sleep with me and you can put Davy in the west gable. You're not afraid to sleep alone, are you, Davy?""No; but I ain't going to bed for ever so long yet," said Davy comfortably.
"Oh, yes, you are." That was all the muchtried Marilla said, but something in her tone squelched even Davy. He trotted obediently upstairs with Anne."When I'm grown up the very first thing I'm going to do is stay up ALLnight just to see what it would be like," he told her confidentially.
In after years Marilla never thought of that first week of the twins' sojourn at Green Gables without a shiver. Not that it really was so much worse than the weeks that followed it; but it seemed so by reason of its novelty. There was seldom a waking minute of any day when Davy was not in mischief or devising it;but his first notable exploit occurred two days after his arrival, on Sunday morning. . .a fine, warm day, as hazy and mild as September.
Anne dressed him for church while Marilla attended to Dora.
Davy at first objected strongly to having his face washed.
"Marilla washed it yesterday. . .and Mrs. Wiggins scoured me with hard soap the day of the funeral. That's enough for one week.
I don't see the good of being so awful clean. It's lots more comfable being dirty.""Paul Irving washes his face every day of his own accord," said Anne astutely.
Davy had been an inmate of Green Gables for little over forty-eight hours; but he already worshipped Anne and hated Paul Irving, whom he had heard Anne praising enthusiastically the day after his arrival.
If Paul Irving washed his face every day, that settled it. He, Davy Keith, would do it too, if it killed him. The same consideration induced him to submit meekly to the other details of his toilet, and he was really a handsome little lad when all was done.
Anne felt an almost maternal pride in him as she led him into the old Cuthbert pew.
Davy behaved quite well at first, being occupied in casting covert glances at all the small boys within view and wondering which was Paul Irving. The first two hymns and the Scripture reading passed off uneventfully. Mr. Allan was praying when the sensation came.
Lauretta White was sitting in front of Davy, her head slightly bent and her fair hair hanging in two long braids, between which a tempting expanse of white neck showed, encased in a loose lace frill. Lauretta was a fat, placid-looking child of eight, who had conducted herself irreproachably in church from the very first day her mother carried her there, an infant of six months.
Davy thrust his hand into his pocket and produced. . .a caterpillar, a furry, squirming caterpillar. Marilla saw and clutched at him but she was too late. Davy dropped the caterpillar down Lauretta's neck.
Right into the middle of Mr. Allan's prayer burst a series of piercing shrieks. The minister stopped appalled and opened his eyes.
Every head in the congregation flew up. Lauretta White was dancing up and down in her pew, clutching frantically at the back of her dress.
"Ow. . .mommer. . .mommer. . .ow. . .take it off. . .ow. . .get it out. . .ow. . .that bad boy put it down my neck. . .ow. . .mommer.
. .it's going further down. . .ow. . .ow. . .ow...."Mrs. White rose and with a set face carried the hysterical, writhing Lauretta out of church. Her shrieks died away in the distance and Mr. Allan proceeded with the service. But everybody felt that it was a failure that day. For the first time in her life Marilla took no notice of the text and Anne sat with scarlet cheeks of mortification.
