Chapter 34

THE SHIP O'DREAMS COMES TO HARBOR

One morning, when a windy golden sunrise was billowing
over the gulf in waves of light, a certain weary stork
flew over the bar of Four Winds Harbor on his way from
the Land of Evening Stars. Under his wing was tucked a
sleepy, starry-eyed, little creature. The stork was
tired, and he looked wistfully about him. He knew he
was somewhere near his destination, but he could not
yet see it. The big, white light-house on the red
sandstone cliff had its good points; but no stork
possessed of any gumption would leave a new, velvet
baby there. An old gray house, surrounded by willows,
in a blossomy brook valley, looked more promising, but
did not seem quite the thing either. The staring
green abode further on was manifestly out of the
question. Then the stork brightened up. He had
caught sight of the very place--a little white house
nestled against a big, whispering firwood, with a
spiral of blue smoke winding up from its kitchen
chimney--a house which just looked as if it were meant
for babies. The stork gave a sigh of satisfaction, and
softly alighted on the ridge-pole.

Half an hour later Gilbert ran down the hall and tapped
on the spare-room door. A drowsy voice answered him
and in a moment Marilla's pale, scared face peeped out
from behind the door.

"Marilla, Anne has sent me to tell you that a certain
young gentleman has arrived here. He hasn't brought
much luggage with him, but he evidently means to
stay."

"For pity's sake!" said Marilla blankly. "You don't
mean to tell me, Gilbert, that it's all over. Why
wasn't I called?"

"Anne wouldn't let us disturb you when there was no
need. Nobody was called until about two hours ago.
There was no `passage perilous' this time."

"And--and--Gilbert--will this baby live?"

"He certainly will. He weighs ten pounds and--why,
listen to him. Nothing wrong with his lungs, is there?
The nurse says his hair will be red. Anne is furious
with her, and I'm tickled to death."

That was a wonderful day in the little house of dreams.

"The best dream of all has come true," said Anne, pale
and rapturous. "Oh, Marilla, I hardly dare believe it,
after that horrible day last summer. I have had a
heartache ever since then--but it is gone now."

"This baby will take Joy's place," said Marilla.

"Oh, no, no, NO, Marilla. He can't--nothing can ever
do that. He has his own place, my dear, wee
man-child. But little Joy has hers, and always will
have it. If she had lived she would have been over a
year old. She would have been toddling around on her
tiny feet and lisping a few words. I can see her so
plainly, Marilla. Oh, I know now that Captain Jim was
right when he said God would manage better than that my
baby would seem a stranger to me when I found her
Beyond. I've learned THAT this past year. I've
followed her development day by day and week by week--I
always shall. I shall know just how she grows from
year to year--and when I meet her again I'll know
her--she won't be a stranger. Oh, Marilla, LOOK at his
dear, darling toes! Isn't it strange they should be so
perfect?"

"It would be stranger if they weren't," said Marilla
crisply. Now that all was safely over, Marilla was
herself again.

"Oh, I know--but it seems as if they couldn't be quite
FINISHED, you know--and they are, even to the tiny
nails. And his hands--JUST look at his hands,
Marilla."

"They appear to be a good deal like hands," Marilla
conceded.

"See how he clings to my finger. I'm sure he knows me
already. He cries when the nurse takes him away. Oh,
Marilla, do you think--you don't think, do you--that
his hair is going to be red?"

"I don't see much hair of any color," said Marilla.
" I wouldn't worry about it, if I were you, until it
becomes visible."

"Marilla, he HAS hair--look at that fine little down
all over his head. Anyway, nurse says his eyes will be
hazel and his forehead is exactly like Gilbert's."

"And he has the nicest little ears, Mrs. Doctor,
dear," said Susan. "The first thing I did was to look
at his ears. Hair is deceitful and noses and eyes
change, and you cannot tell what is going to come of
them, but ears is ears from start to finish, and you
always know where you are with them. Just look at
their shape--and they are set right back against his
precious head. You will never need to be ashamed of
his ears, Mrs. Doctor, dear."

Anne's convalescence was rapid and happy. Folks came
and worshipped the baby, as people have bowed before
the kingship of the new-born since long before the Wise
Men of the East knelt in homage to the Royal Babe of
the Bethlehem manger. Leslie, slowly finding herself
amid the new conditions of her life, hovered over it,
like a beautiful, golden-crowned Madonna. Miss
Cornelia nursed it as knackily as could any mother in
Israel. Captain Jim held the small creature in his big
brown hands and gazed tenderly at it, with eyes that
saw the children who had never been born to him.

"What are you going to call him?" asked Miss Cornelia.

"Anne has settled his name," answered Gilbert.

"James Matthew--after the two finest gentlemen I've
ever known--not even saving your presence," said Anne
with a saucy glance at Gilbert.

Gilbert smiled.

"I never knew Matthew very well; he was so shy we boys
couldn't get acquainted with him--but I quite agree
with you that Captain Jim is one of the rarest and
finest souls God ever clothed in clay. He is so
delighted over the fact that we have given his name to
our small lad. It seems he has no other namesake."

"Well, James Matthew is a name that will wear well and
not fade in the washing," said Miss Cornelia. "I'm
glad you didn't load him down with some highfalutin,
romantic name that he'd be ashamed of when he gets to
be a grandfather. Mrs. William Drew at the Glen has
called her baby Bertie Shakespeare. Quite a
combination, isn't it? And I'm glad you haven't had
much trouble picking on a name. Some folks have an
awful time. When the Stanley Flaggs' first boy was
born there was so much rivalry as to who the child
should be named for that the poor little soul had to
go for two years without a name. Then a brother came
along and there it was--`Big Baby' and `Little Baby.'
Finally they called Big Baby Peter and Little Baby
Isaac, after the two grandfathers, and had them both
christened together. And each tried to see if it
couldn't howl the other down. You know that Highland
Scotch family of MacNabs back of the Glen? They've got
twelve boys and the oldest and the youngest are both
called Neil--Big Neil and Little Neil in the same
family. Well, I s'pose they ran out of names."

"I have read somewhere," laughed Anne, "that the first
child is a poem but the tenth is very prosy prose.
Perhaps Mrs. MacNab thought that the twelfth was merely
an old tale re-told."

"Well, there's something to be said for large
families," said Miss Cornelia, with a sigh. "I was an
only child for eight years and I did long for a
brother and sister. Mother told me to pray for
one--and pray I did, believe ME. Well, one day Aunt
Nellie came to me and said, `Cornelia, there is a
little brother for you upstairs in your ma's room. You
can go up and see him.' I was so excited and delighted
I just flew upstairs. And old Mrs. Flagg lifted up the
baby for me to see. Lord, Anne, dearie, I never was so
disappointed in my life. You see, I'd been praying for
A BROTHER TWO YEARS OLDER THAN MYSELF."

"How long did it take you to get over your
disappointment?" asked Anne, amid her laughter.

"Well, I had a spite at Providence for a good spell,
and for weeks I wouldn't even look at the baby. Nobody
knew why, for I never told. Then he began to get real
cute, and held out his wee hands to me and I began to
get fond of him. But I didn't get really reconciled to
him until one day a school chum came to see him and
said she thought he was awful small for his age. I
just got boiling mad, and I sailed right into her, and
told her she didn't know a nice baby when she saw one,
and ours was the nicest baby in the world. And after
that I just worshipped him. Mother died before he was
three years old and I was sister and mother to him
both. Poor little lad, he was never strong, and he
died when he wasn't much over twenty. Seems to me I'd
have given anything on earth, Anne, dearie, if he'd
only lived."

Miss Cornelia sighed. Gilbert had gone down and
Leslie, who had been crooning over the small James
Matthew in the dormer window, laid him asleep in his
basket and went her way. As soon as she was safely out
of earshot, Miss Cornelia bent forward and said in a
conspirator's whisper:

"Anne, dearie, I'd a letter from Owen Ford yesterday.
He's in Vancouver just now, but he wants to know if I
can board him for a month later on. YOU know what that
means. Well, I hope we're doing right."

"We've nothing to do with it--we couldn't prevent him
from coming to Four Winds if he wanted to," said Anne
quickly. She did not like the feeling of match-making
Miss Cornelia's whispers gave her; and then she weakly
succumbed herself.

"Don't let Leslie know he is coming until he is here,"
she said. "If she found out I feel sure she would go
away at once. She intends to go in the fall
anyhow--she told me so the other day. She is going to
Montreal to take up nursing and make what she can of
her life."

"Oh, well, Anne, dearie," said Miss Cornelia, nodding
sagely "that is all as it may be. You and I have done
our part and we must leave the rest to Higher Hands."

Chapter 35
Anne's House of Dreams Index