The Three of Us

18. Three in Her Corner

As Gilbert got ready for bed, his Sunday School pin fell out of his pants pocket and clattered to the floor. He picked it up and looked at it. The pin just made him melancholy, now. He wondered if he ought to give it to Anne to keep, but realized right away that that would never do- Anne didn't want somebody else's pin handed to her. She wanted to be able to come back to the class and have her own.

Well, maybe the teacher will be able to help...she said she would.

Gilbert put the pin in the little box he kept on his desk, with all the others. He had ten of them, now.

He was glad the teacher just gave pins- he remembered his dad saying that they used to give out one pin and then there were colored bars to be added underneath. Gilbert was glad they didn't use those anymore- he'd look decorated like a war hero, and how would Anne feel then? He took the box off of his desk and shut it in a drawer, not intending to open it again.

Gilbert wished he could talk to his father about Anne.

His father knew about what had happened, and he knew a baby was a possibility, but he did not yet know that the baby was a definite thing. And Anne didn't want him to reveal her news yet. She wanted to do that herself. ...He hoped she would soon, because he hated keeping things from his father.

And John Blythe knew his son too well. It had not escaped his notice that there was something Gilbert wasn't telling him.

---

The Sunday School teacher spoke to the reverend the following Monday when she came into the church.

After a discussion- which quickly became heated- the reverend made the decision that when Sunday School resumed, boys would be in separate classes from girls.

While the teacher's concern had been for the girls in her class to be near a boy with such violent tendencies, she thought that putting girls and boys in separate classes was simply masking the problem.

The reverend's solution would keep Billy away from the girls, but it did nothing to hold Billy accountable for his actions.

---

The next week at church, the teacher left as quickly as she could so that she could catch up to the Cuthberts, who always seemed to zip right out of church the moment it was over.

"Would I be able to come over and visit Anne sometime? I couldn't help noticing she's stopped coming to Sunday School."

Marilla said, "You're certainly welcome. ...I'm sorry we pulled her from the class. She wanted to attend, but...there were things keeping us from bringing her."

"I wrongly assumed she was no longer interested. I would have encouraged her to come back, but it's been hard to talk to you at church lately," she continued. "Gilbert Blythe told me Anne was upset about not being there, so I thought perhaps I could get her back on track with the others so when Sunday School starts again she won't have missed anything."

"That's very kind of you," Marilla began. "I'm just not sure she'll come back when the new term starts."

There was a pause. "Miss Cuthbert," the teacher finally said in a low voice, "I'm aware of what has happened to Anne, and I want things changed. The reverend has decided that when Sunday School resumes, boys and girls will be in separate classes. And...I'm trying to do more."

"If the boys will be separated from the girls, perhaps we can send her back," Marilla said hesitantly. "I appreciate you being in our corner, but I'm not sure what more there is to do...the Andrews will always be at church."

"We'll have to think of something."

---

While Anne cared more about the social aspect of Sunday School than the actual content of the class, she was glad the Sunday School teacher began to come over, because having another class to study for gave her some much-needed distraction from her problems.

---

With only a little bit of time before and after school- and lunches that went by much too fast- Anne and Diana struggled to fit in everything they wanted to say. They both began writing letters at home, which they exchanged each day, so that they could fit more in. Anne, however, had to be more guarded than she'd like, because she could not bear to think of her letters falling into the wrong hands. She knew Diana was scared enough to have started to put Anne's letters in the fire after she'd read them.

Anne's 'confession' to Diana had been as follows:

Darling Diana,

My fears have been realized. The darkness is upon me. A gloomy ocean of despair has washed over my soul. All is lost.

Eternally yours, even as I perish-

Anne.

Diana had shown this vague, flowery message to Gilbert, who confirmed that, yes, Anne was talking about being 'in the family way'.

Diana's response had been more practical:

Anne,

I'm awful sorry about your sea of despair. What did you family say? They're not going to send you away, are they?

Don't tell my mother- I suppose I'll have to figure out how to do that.

Are you well? I hope you're all right. What did the doctor say about it?

Are they going to make you leave school? Oh, Anne, I don't know how we'll keep talking. At least there's Gilbert to help us get our letters back and forth.

Faithfully yours,

Diana

Diana's letter showed her worry over Anne, and Anne was grateful to have a friend who loved her, but it was not exactly a helpful or encouraging letter, and Anne felt worse after reading it.

But the next day at lunchtime, Diana hugged her and said- filling Anne with love and hope- "We'll always be bosom friends. Even if everything in the whole world changes, nothing will change that."