(Untitled)

[avonlea_girl]

The door opens, and the warm air that wafts in brings with it the enticing scent of plum puffs and balsam and there is the dim sound of dishes clattering in a kitchen until the door swings shut once more and Anne seats herself at a table, with a plate of plum puffs and russet apples

Comments

[white_flowers]

And company she may have, as a motherly-seeming woman in white watches this process with some amusement.

"Did you make all of those yourself, dear?" The light soft voice is warm and kindly.

[white_flowers]

The girl's reaction is impossible to mistake, and Blodwen's response is instant.

"Of course he has, and now it is that you think I am some sort of monster."

The light soft voice is grieving and weary. "He has been tricked, by the dewin his friend, and turned against me."

[avonlea_girl]

"Bran," Anne says, drily, "seems as though he would be fairly hard to trick."

The tea she was given is placed firmly on the table, and Anne gives her a smile that does not reach her eyes at all, while pushing herself back to stand.

"Help yourself to the plum puffs. I do hope you enjoy them."

[white_flowers]

"I have not dismissed you, dear -- I would not have thought you so rude," she says, and the chill in her tone is clear.

"It does not become you at all, to behave this way."

[avonlea_girl]

Anne's cheek begin to grow white--and not from fear this time, nor from shock.

Gray eyes flash, and her chin lifts.

"Then you clearly don't know me very well," she says, bitingly. "I was under the impression that I might leave any time, with or without your dismissal."

She stands, her delicate fingers on the table, and tosses her red braid over her shoulder.

"Good evening, Mrs. Rowlands."