The Three of Us

97. Leaving the Baby

Mrs. Warren had a moment of doubt that Anne understood what she was doing here.

She said kindly, "I know Miss Cuthbert said that you didn't want to have any further contact, but you do know you can change your mind, don't you? If you decide you want to come see him, or even if you want to take him-"

"I don't," Anne said. "I don't want to see him ever again."

"Then why don't you set him down?" Marilla asked. "You look as if he's getting heavy."

"No," Anne said. "I can hold him." She held the basket closer.

"You know, Mrs. Warren ought to see him, Anne. Take him out of his basket and let the two meet! We want to see how he likes her, don't we?" Marilla pushed gently.

"He's sleeping," Anne said flatly. She kept the basket pressed against herself.

There was an awkward silence, until Mrs. Warren cleared her throat. "I believe I'd better go check the oven. I put muffins in earlier, and I'd hate to let them get overdone. Excuse me."

Marilla knew exactly why Mrs. Warren had left. She closed the door softly and came over to Anne. "Are you uncomfortable with the situation here?" she asked.

"No, why?"

"You seemed rather distrustful of Mrs. Warren and I was worried you'd gotten a bad feeling about her."

"I didn't. Did you?"

"No," Marilla said, intently staring at Anne. "I think she seems very nice and normal. But I thought you'd perhaps felt something I hadn't. You seem...unwilling to move ahead."

"I'm not," Anne said with a frown. "I'm glad we're here. I'm glad to leave him!"

"Could you get him out of his basket so she can meet him?'

"I don't want to wake him up," Anne argued.

"But Anne, I don't want him to wake up to us gone. This will be confusing for him, you know. He ought to begin to know her and the house while we're still here with him."

Anne looked unsure.

"I also think it's important that we see how she interacts with him."

Anne sighed. She looked away. "She can look at him later."

"Let's go downstairs," Marilla said, shaking her head.

Down in the kitchen, Marilla said, "Remember Mrs. Warren wants you to show her exactly how Walter likes his bottles."

"He isn't particular," Anne said offhandedly. "He's even fine with them cold, so you needn't bother with how they're made."

"Would you like for us to get one ready together now?" Mrs. Warren asked, getting a pot out.

Anne shook her head. "He doesn't want to eat right now."

Mrs. Warren put the pot back into the cupboard. "All right. Can you think of anything else I ought to know about him?"

Anne bit her lip. "He might be awful. I hope you won't hate him."

"My goodness, child! What a thing to say! Of course I won't hate him!" Mrs. Warren cried.

"You haven't seen him yet," Anne pointed out. "Everyone thinks he's sweet, but..."

She finally lifted back the blanket that covered his basket.

Mrs. Warren caught her first glimpse of the little blonde boy. "Oh, Anne...isn't he just the cutest thing?"

"No, he isn't," Anne answered her plainly. "He isn't a bit cute. Everyone seems to think he is, but he isn't."