Verso Pages
These back-of-page seemingly random, out-of-order scrap pieces are drafts of Montgomery’s early short stories and poems. Some were already published when she drafted Anne in 1905 and 1906, and others were probably typed up and kept elsewhere. Some verso scrap sheets show early experiments: “A Baking of Gingersnaps” (1895) was her first published short story; she tests the pen names Maud Cavendish and Maud Eglinton. After Chapter 15, she started writing Anne front-to-back. Why did she switch from scrap pages to fresh sheets?
View an index of the verso contents here, or explore the full collection of Verso pages below:
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Chapter 20 A Good Imagination Gone Wrong
Spring had come once more to Green Gables —the beautiful capricious, reluctant, Canadian spring, lingering along through April and May in a succession of sweet, fresh,^chilly days, with pink sunsets and miracles of resurrection and growth. The maples in Lovers’ Lane were red-budded and little curly ferns pushed up around the Dryad’s Bubble. Away up in the barrens, behind2352
that died last summer and this is their heaven. But we had a splendid time to-day, Marilla. We had our lunch down in a big holl mossy hollow by an old well—such a romantic spot.^A12 Mr. Phillips gave all the mayflowers he found to Prissy Andrews, I was offer and I heard him say ‘sweets to the sweet.’ He got that out of a book I know; but it shows he has some imagination. I was offered some Mayflowers too, but I rejected them with scorn.^B12 We made wreaths of the mayflowers and put them on our hats; and when the time came to go home we marched in procession down the road, two by two, singn with our bouquets and wreaths,
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But when I’m up in school it’s all different and I care as much as ever. There’s such a lot of different Annes in me. I sometimes think that is why I’m such a troublesome person. If I was just the one Anne it would be ever so much more comfortable, but then it wouldn’t be half so interesting.”
One June evening when ^C12 the air was full of the savour of clover fields and balsamic fir woods, Anne was sitting by her gable window. She had been studying her lessons, but it had grown too dark to see the book, so she had fallen into wide-eyed reverie, looking out past the boughs of the Snow Queen, once more bestarred with its tufts of blossom[.]
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with some of Anne’s freshly ironed school aprons. She hung them over a chair and sat down with a short sigh. She had had one of her headaches that afternoon and although the pain had gone she felt weak and “tuckered out” as she expressed it. Anne looked at her with sympathetic eyes limpid with sympathy.
“I do truly wish I could have had the headache in your place, Marilla. I would have endured it joyfully for your sake.”
“I guess you did your part in attending to the work and letting me rest,” said Marilla. “XXXXXXXXXXX “You seem to have got on fairly well and made fewer mistakes than usual. Of course it wasn’t exactly necessary to starch Matthew’s handkerchiefs!
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flows right round it. At last it struck me that it would be splendid to call it Victoria Island because we found it on the Queen’s birthday. But I’m sorry Both Diana and I are very loyal. But I’m sorry about that pie and the handkerchiefs. I wanted to be extra good to-day because it’s an anniversary. Do you remember what happened this day last year, Marilla?
“No, I can’t think of anything special.”
“Oh, Marilla, it was the day I came to Green Gables. I shall never forget it. Of course It was the turning point in my life. Of course it wouldn’t seem so important to you. I’ve been here for a year and I’ve been so happy. Of course I’ve had my troubles but one can live down troubles. Are you sorry you kept me, Marilla?”
“No, I can’t say I’m sorry,” said
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haunts the corner up by Idlewild; it creeps up behind you and lays its cold fingers on your hand—so. Oh, Marilla, it gives me a shudder to think of it. I wouldn’t And there’s a headless man stalks up and down the path and skeletons glower at you between the boughs. Oh, Marilla, I wouldn’t go through the Haunted Wood after dark now for anything. I’d be sure that white things would reach out from behind the trees and grab me.”
“Did anyone ever hear the like!” ejaculated Marilla, “Anne Shirley who had listened in dumb amazement. “Anne Shirley, do you mean to tell me you believe all that ^wicked nonsense of your own imagination?”
“Not believe exactly,” faltered Anne. “At least, I don’t believe it in daylight. But after dark, Marilla, it’s different. That is when ghosts walk.”
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very real. Her imagination had run away with her and she held the spruce grove in mortal dread after nightfall. But Marilla was inexorable. She marched the shrinking ghost seer down to the spring and ordered her to proceed straight away over the bridge and into the dusky retreats of wailing ladies and headless spectres beyond. H12
“March now”
Anne marched. That is, she stumbled over the bridge and went shuddering up the horrible dim path beyond. Anne never forgot that walk. Bitterly did she repent the license given to her imagination. The goblins of her fancy lurked in every shadow about her, reaching out their cold fleshless hands to grasp the terrified