Anne's outburst at Mrs. Lynde

Anne Shirley had been at Green Gables for a fortnight when Mrs. Rachel Lynde, recovering from a severe attack of grippe, arrived to inspect the orphan girl whose arrival had already become the talk of Avonlea. Mrs. Lynde, a woman who prided herself on speaking her mind without fear or favor, found Anne in the orchard and, upon being called into the kitchen, subjected her to a merciless visual assessment. "Well, they didn't pick you for your looks, that's sure and certain," was Mrs. Lynde's emphatic comment. "She's terrible skinny and homely, Marilla. Come here, child, and let me have a look at you. Lawful heart, did any one ever see such freckles? And hair as red as carrots!"

The Explosion

Anne did not merely "come there" as Mrs. Lynde expected. With one bound she crossed the kitchen floor and stood before Mrs. Lynde, her face scarlet with anger, her lips quivering, and her whole slender form trembling from head to foot. "I hate you," she cried in a choked voice, stamping her foot on the floor. "I hate you—I hate you—I hate you—" with a louder stamp at each assertion of hatred. "How dare you call me skinny and ugly? How dare you say I'm freckled and redheaded? You are a rude, impolite, unfeeling woman!" Anne continued to face Mrs. Lynde undauntedly, head up, eyes blazing, hands clenched, passionate indignation exhaling from her like an atmosphere. She repeated her challenge: "How would you like to be told that you are fat and clumsy and probably hadn't a spark of imagination in you? I don't care if I do hurt your feelings by saying so! I hope I hurt them. You have hurt mine worse than they were ever hurt before even by Mrs. Thomas' intoxicated husband. And I'll NEVER forgive you for it, never, never!" Each assertion was punctuated by another stamp.

Immediate Aftermath

Marilla, recovering her powers of speech with difficulty, ordered Anne to her room. Anne, bursting into tears, rushed to the hall door, slammed it until the tins on the porch wall outside rattled in sympathy, and fled through the hall and up the stairs like a whirlwind. A subdued slam above told that the door of the east gable had been shut with equal vehemence. Mrs. Lynde, horrified, declared she did not envy Marilla her job bringing "that" up. But Marilla, to her own surprise, defended Anne: "You shouldn't have twitted her about her looks, Rachel." When Mrs. Lynde indignantly demanded if Marilla was upholding such a display of temper, Marilla admitted Anne had been very naughty but insisted allowances must be made—she had never been taught what was right—and added, "You WERE too hard on her, Rachel." Mrs. Lynde left with offended dignity, advising a birch switch as the most effective language for such a child.

Marilla's Response and Anne's Punishment

Marilla, feeling more humiliation over the scene than sorrow over the defect in Anne's disposition, went up to the east gable. She found Anne face downward on the bed, crying bitterly, quite oblivious of muddy boots on a clean counterpane. When ordered to get off the bed, Anne squirmed off and sat rigidly on a chair, her face swollen and tear-stained, her eyes fixed stubbornly on the floor. She defended herself: "She hadn't any right to call me ugly and redheaded." Marilla pointed out that Anne said such things about herself often enough. Anne wailed, "Oh, but there's such a difference between saying a thing yourself and hearing other people say it. You may know a thing is so, but you can't help hoping other people don't quite think it is." Marilla, recalling an old memory of being called a "dark, homely little thing" by an aunt—a sting that had lasted until she was fifty—softened slightly. She admitted Mrs. Lynde was too outspoken but insisted Anne must apologize. Anne declared she could never do that, saying she would rather be shut up in a dark, damp dungeon inhabited by snakes and toads and fed only on bread and water. Marilla replied drily that such dungeons were scarce in Avonlea, but apologize she must and shall, and she would stay in her room until she was willing.

Resolution and Thematic Significance

Anne remained obdurate through breakfast, dinner, and supper, though Marilla carried well-filled trays to the east gable. Matthew, slipping upstairs like a burglar while Marilla was out, whispered to Anne, persuading her to apologize to oblige him. Anne agreed, saying she was sorry now—the anger had left a dreadful sort of goneness and she felt ashamed. She told Marilla she was willing to go and tell Mrs. Lynde so. On the way to Mrs. Lynde's, Anne's dejection vanished; she lifted her head, her eyes fixed on the sunset sky, with an air of subdued exhilaration. When they arrived, Anne dropped to her knees before the astonished Mrs. Lynde and delivered a dramatic, thorough apology, declaring she was a dreadfully wicked and ungrateful girl who deserved to be punished and cast out by respectable people forever. Mrs. Lynde, not perceiving that Anne was actually enjoying her valley of humiliation, forgave her heartily and even offered hope that her red hair might darken to a handsome auburn. The incident established a pattern in Anne's relationship with Marilla: Marilla's instinct for punishment was repeatedly transformed by Anne's theatrical imagination into something the girl almost relished, and it revealed the deep sensitivity beneath Anne's fierce pride—a sensitivity rooted in a lifetime of rejection and neglect.