Charlotta the Fourth

Charlotta the Fourth is the young helper whose affection and practical work hold together the imaginative household at Echo Lodge. She is at once Miss Lavendar Lewis’s companion, an ally to Anne Shirley and Diana Barry, and a keen observer of the changes in her mistress. Her care becomes especially visible when Miss Lavendar grows withdrawn and when preparations for Miss Lavendar’s marriage fill the house with activity.

Identity and Background

When Anne Shirley and Diana Barry first visit Echo Lodge, Charlotta appears as a girl of about fourteen, with a freckled face, a snub nose, a very wide mouth, and two long fair braids fastened with large blue bows. Her appearance is described in comic detail, but her later actions establish that she is more than a picturesque presence: she is the person who welcomes visitors, helps manage the household, and remains closest to Miss Lavendar Lewis.

Charlotta is not her actual name. Miss Lavendar explains that she is probably called Leonora, although she has to think before recalling it. The name Charlotta marks a succession of Bowman girls who have stayed with Miss Lavendar in exchange for board and clothes. The first, Charlotta Bowman, came at thirteen and left for Boston at sixteen, when she could find better prospects there. Her sister Julietta, who resembled her, became Charlotta the Second in Miss Lavendar’s thoughts; Evelina became the Third; and Leonora is the Fourth. Miss Lavendar has continued the numbering because the girls look alike to her and she has given up trying to keep their names straight. The arrangement is practical as well as affectionate: after her mother’s death, Miss Lavendar could not manage the house alone or afford the wages of a grown-up helper.

Life at Echo Lodge

Charlotta makes room for Miss Lavendar’s private fancies rather than exposing or ridiculing them. When Anne and Diana arrive unexpectedly, Miss Lavendar admits that she had been pretending to expect company: loneliness had led her to prepare a tea party, decorate the table with her mother’s wedding china, and dress for imaginary guests. Charlotta is trusted with the secret and, in Miss Lavendar’s words, never tells. Her acceptance allows the make-believe to remain a source of comfort instead of becoming an occasion for embarrassment.

That tolerance is matched by ordinary attentiveness. At Miss Lavendar’s direction, Charlotta fetches the little tin horn hanging over the clock shelf and is told to blow it. Miss Lavendar takes pleasure in the echoes, and says that she and Charlotta often sit outside on calm evenings to amuse themselves with them. The girl is thus part of the small rituals through which the secluded house turns its surroundings into company. The numbered name is another such accommodation: Charlotta accepts a role that might seem silly to others because it belongs to the shared imaginative life of the household.

When Anne and Diana become regular visitors, Charlotta greets them with her exceptionally wide smile. The visits bring youth and activity into the stone house, and Charlotta loves the girls both for themselves and for the happiness they bring Miss Lavendar. Anne, in particular, becomes someone Charlotta watches and admires. After Anne has visited, Charlotta goes up to her little room over the kitchen and practises speaking, looking, and moving like her, trying to imitate the lift of Anne’s chin, the brightness of her eyes, and her swaying way of walking. She does not imagine that she succeeds completely. Her admiration is not simply a judgment of beauty: although she prefers Diana Barry’s dark curls and bright complexion, she tells Anne that she would rather look like her than be pretty. Anne receives the compliment with amusement, while the narration distinguishes Charlotta’s sincere regard from any claim that Anne possesses conventional beauty.

Loyalty and Observation

Charlotta’s devotion makes her an important witness when Miss Lavendar’s mood changes. She tells Anne that her mistress has seemed unlike herself for a long while, perhaps since the night Anne and Paul Irving visited and Miss Lavendar walked in the snowy garden afterward with only a small shawl. Charlotta suspects that Miss Lavendar caught cold, but what troubles her most is the change in her behaviour: Miss Lavendar seems tired and lonely, takes interest in little, and no longer pretends that company is coming or prepares for it. Charlotta also notices that her mistress brightens when Anne arrives. Her report ties the household’s imaginative customs to Miss Lavendar’s emotional well-being: the tea-party preparations and welcome rituals had been signs of a livelier spirit.

A broken bowl sharpens Charlotta’s alarm. While dusting, she accidentally drops a green-and-yellow bowl that had stood on the bookcase. It had belonged to Miss Lavendar’s grandmother, who brought it from England, and Charlotta expects a severe reprimand. Instead, Miss Lavendar barely looks at the many pieces and tells her to clear them away. Charlotta is not relieved by this leniency; she regards the lack of scolding over a treasured family object as the worst sign that Miss Lavendar is unwell. Her concern is affectionate and concrete: she is watching not just for complaints but for the loss of familiar responses, and she fears that she is the only person available to care for her mistress.

A Future She Fears and Hopes For

Charlotta understands the vulnerability built into her place at Echo Lodge. She is the last of the Bowman girls, and expects that at sixteen she, too, will want to go to Boston. There is no younger sister to follow her. She worries about what will happen to Miss Lavendar afterward: a stranger might laugh at her make-believe, fail to put things back where they belong, or refuse to accept the next borrowed name, Charlotta the Fifth. Charlotta acknowledges that another girl might be less unlucky at breaking dishes, but insists that nobody could love Miss Lavendar more. Her words show how a household arrangement based on board and clothes has become a bond of personal loyalty, while also leaving both women facing the possibility of separation.

She is equally clear-eyed about the romantic change that may alter that future. When Anne explains that Miss Lavendar’s old intended is Paul Irving’s father, Stephen Irving, Charlotta hopes he will marry her. She thinks of herself as likely to remain unmarried because she has little patience with men, but does not project that expectation onto Miss Lavendar. Her concern is not only that her mistress should have a husband; it is that Miss Lavendar should not be left without loving company when Charlotta eventually departs.

The Wedding and Narrative Role

When Miss Lavendar and Stephen Irving prepare to marry, Charlotta turns apprehension into energetic work. During one evening’s preparations she rushes among the tasks: the cake frosting will not harden, the silver needs polishing, the horsehair trunk must be packed, and the roosters intended for chicken salad are still outside the henhouse. She is thankful when Stephen takes Miss Lavendar for a walk, since she judges that courtship and cooking do not mix well. Anne and Diana help, and by ten o’clock the work has satisfied Charlotta.

At the wedding, she is still thinking ahead to practical details. After the ceremony she is relieved that the couple are married and safe, and reports that the rice is in the pantry, old shoes are behind the door, and cream for whipping is on the cellar steps. When Miss Lavendar leaves her old home with Stephen, the rice is thrown and Charlotta hurls an old shoe, striking Mr. Allan on the head. The episode gives her practical service a comic, physical punctuation, but the send-off also carries a more tender note: Paul rings a great brass dinner bell, and the familiar echoes answer across the river as Miss Lavendar departs. Charlotta does not leave with her; the text shows her helping her mistress move from a life organized around dreams and make-believe toward marriage and a wider world. Throughout, Charlotta’s importance lies in the fidelity with which she makes room for another person’s imagination while noticing, and responding to, the loneliness that imagination cannot always dispel.