Here's an answer to Anne O' the Island's request for a story that includes A Disaster Involving Water. As I've already written a notable shipwreck in "Glen Notes," I thought I'd try for something different here. I think I've only written one other piece for pre-teen Anne ("The Path Made Clear") and that was a flashback (I suppose this must be the summer she is 13). Here goes nothing!

Divining Disaster

"Anne said the bowl should be silver," scoffed Ruby Gillis, gazing down her pert little nose at the tin basin Diana Barry had lain reverently in the middle of the sun-dappled clearing. "Haven't you got a silver bowl at Orchard Slope?"

"Of course we have," Diana said, chewing her lip. "Silver-plated, anyway. But Mother would skin me alive if she found I had brought it out into the woods!"

"I'm sure tin will do just as well, dearest," said Anne, knowing very well that it would not. "It's quite as shiny as silver, isn't it? And that's the main thing."

If Anne were disappointed at the substitution, she would never betray such treasonous sentiments to her beloved friend. Still, they had been planning this special meeting of the Story Club all week, and how would Mrs. Barry ever know that the silver bowl had gone missing? They only wanted it for an hour.

"I brought the needle," said Jane Andrews, retrieving a slim cylinder from her apron pocket and tipping a large darning needle into her palm.

"It's awful big," squeaked Ruby, recoiling. "Must we really use a darning needle?"

"That's what it said in the story," Anne muttered. Honestly, they couldn't change everything and expect the charm to work. Even though that needle did seem terribly thick.

"And you've got the snapdragons," Diana observed unnecessarily. No one could miss the riotous bouquet Anne had gathered, all yellow and pink and blood-red. "Is it true that snapdragons tell the future, Anne?"

"Not ordinarily," Anne mused, regarding the bright sprays in her hands. "You have to open their little mouths first. Then they tell the future."

Ruby giggled. "Whoever heard of anything so silly?"

"If you do not wish to participate, you need not stay," Anne replied in her loftiest tone. "I notice you didn't bring anything useful, Ruby."

"Oh, but I did," Ruby replied, flashing her pearly little teeth. Smiling, she drew a handkerchief from her pocket and unknotted it, revealing a simple gold ring.

Jane and Diana gasped. Even Anne's eyes flew wide. "Ruby! That's never . . ."

"It's great-grandmother Gillis's wedding ring," Ruby announced with the air of one introducing Queen Victoria. "She left it to Emily in her will."

"But how . . ."

"Oh, I just borrowed it," Ruby snapped defensively. "I'll have it back on her bureau before she ever knows it's gone!"

"But why . . ."

"Anne said that the charm would tell us the future based on what we put in the bowl," Ruby explained. "And I want to know who I'm going to marry. So that means a wedding ring."

"But I thought we had agreed to use a coin!" Anne protested, feeling the weight of the silver dime in her apron pocket.

Ruby waved an impatient hand. "Who cares about money? If we can catch a glimpse of our husbands, that will tell us whether we'll be rich or not, won't it?"

Jane and Diana nodded at this perfectly reasonable statement.

"But . . ." Anne could think of no persuasive protest. A gold wedding ring was awfully good for augury . . .

"That's settled, then," said Ruby comfortably. "Diana, go fetch the water."

Diana did as she was bid, dipping the tin basin into the sparkling waters of the nearby stream and settling it in the lush grass of the clearing. The girls knelt to wreathe the circular pool with Anne's snapdragons, pausing to press open each blossom's tiny mouth. Ruby dropped great-grandmother Gillis's gold ring into the water and sat back on her heels.

"Just the needle now."

Jane held up that terrible implement, glinting in the summer sunshine.

"What must we do, Anne?" asked Diana, a tremor in her voice.

"We only need a single drop each," Anne reassured her. "You just prick your thumb and put a drop of blood into the bowl. Then you look in and you'll see your future."

"Shouldn't it be the ring finger?" Ruby asked.

"What?"

"The ring finger. There's a vein there that goes straight to your heart," Ruby explained. "That's why you wear a wedding ring on it."

"I've heard that, too," nodded Jane.

"Oh." Anne had not considered this. It did make a certain sort of sense . . .

"Right," said Ruby. "Prick your ring finger, get some blood, and put it in the basin. And when you look in, you'll see your husband!"

"That needle's awfully big . . ." Diana whispered.

Unconcerned, Jane turned the darning needle and pressed it to the tip of her third finger. A bubble of dark blood welled, popped, and trickled a crimson trail toward her palm. Jane turned her hand downward and shook the drop into the basin, where it splashed and settled beneath the surface in a jagged curl.

The girls leaned forward to look, black and gold and red crowding around Jane's mouse-brown crown.

Jane bent lowest over the basin. Peering into the water, she squinted. "I see . . . a man. He's . . . sort of old . . . and thin . . . but he is dressed very well. And he's holding out a ring — such a ring! A cluster of diamonds so big it looks like a chrysanthemum! And there I am — yes, that's me! I'm a bride, all glittering with diamonds from top to toe, and white satin and tulle and orange blossoms and roses . . ."

Ruby sat up with a huff. "Oh, honestly, Jane! This isn't a Story Club story! It's real life."

"Perhaps Jane really will have diamonds from top to toe at her wedding," objected Anne."I don't see why she shouldn't."

"Oh, give me that," Ruby muttered, plucking the needle from Jane's hand. She pierced her own ring finger and sent a drop of blood swirling into the depths beside Jane's. Ruby looked and looked, bowing so low over the water that her nose nearly touched the surface.

"What do you see?" tittered Diana. "Is it Charlie Sloane?"

"Bother Charlie Sloane," Ruby sneered, retreating from the oracle. "This doesn't work — I don't see anyone at all!"

"Let me have a try," said Diana, holding out her palm for the needle. Ruby handed it over with bad grace, pouting over the failure of prophecy.

When the bright needle flashed against her porcelain skin, Diana hesitated. She grimaced, screwing up her courage, but could not apply the necessary force to draw blood.

"Oh, Anne, won't you do it for me?" Diana beseeched her friend.

"N . . . no," Anne replied, haltingly. "You must do it yourself, Di, for the full effect. But . . . but I will place my own hand over yours to bolster your resolve."

"Alright," Diana gulped, her already pale face blanched to a most Romantic absence of color.

Anne pressed her slender fingers over Diana's dimpled hand and guided the needle to its target. Diana winced, not when the point touched the skin, but a moment before, such that she missed the actual pinch. She swayed dangerously at the sight of her own blood, but Anne directed her finger toward the basin and sent the drop of precious red to mingle with Jane's and Ruby's.

"There now, Diana," said Anne, wrapping the finger in a green-bordered handkerchief. "All over. Now the only thing to do is look in and discover your future."

Diana nodded, black curls bouncing. She looked, blinked, then looked again.

"What is it, Di?" Anne asked in alarm as color flooded back into Diana's face. This was not the delicate blush of flattered maidenhood, but the blotchy, heated flush of humiliation. "Did you see someone?"

"No," Diana answered, her cheeks surpassing fuchsia and barreling onward toward proper purple. "Ruby's right. It doesn't work."

"Good," Anne replied. "Then I won't bother."

"Now, now, Anne," Jane scolded. "You're the one who wanted to tell the future."

"Well, I didn't realize it was going to be all talk of husbands," Anne retorted. "As it is, I guess I'll just have to let myself be surprised."

"Aren't you the least bit curious?" Diana asked, her flaming cheeks beginning to regain their ordinary pink.

"Haven't you just assured me that it doesn't work?"

"Oh. Right." Diana replied, not daring to look Anne in the eye.

Ruby pursed her lips. "Come on, Anne. We've all done it. Unless you're scared."

"I'm certainly not," Anne flared.

"I'm sure you can bear the needle well enough," Ruby simpered. "But you're scared to see your husband!"

"It doesn't work!" Anne wailed.

"Then there's no reason to be scared," said Jane, holding the needle before Anne's face. Sunlight sparkled off its point, practically daring Anne to take it.

"Fine," she snapped, grabbing the needle and raking it across the tip of her ring finger. Blood speckled the surface of the water, grown cloudy now, and dark.

Anne bent forward . . .

"What's all this, now?" said the brown, handsome face reflected in the water.

"AARGH!" Anne yelled, springing upright so precipitously that she upset the basin, spattering its contents over her companions.

"Aaaarrrgh!" howled Diana and Jane, ascertaining the damage to their pinafores.

"The ring!" shrieked Ruby.

All four girls scrabbled frantically in the grass until a triumphant Jane held up the ring for all to see.

"I see I've interrupted something . . ." said Gilbert Blythe, who had appeared, very much in the flesh, at the edge of their circle.

"Gilbert Blythe!" Anne spat, red braids flying as she gained her feet. "How dare you spy on us, you . . . you . . . SNEAK!"

Gilbert held his hands up protectively and took a step backward. "I wasn't spying! I just saw you all crowded around on the ground like that and stopped to make sure everything was alright."

"We are perfectly well, thank you." Anne sniffed, attempting to muster her dignity. "We require no assistance whatsoever. Good day!"

"No?" he asked, a maddening twinkle in his hazel eyes. "Very well. I'm just on my way over to the Wrights'. Fred says the cherries are in and wants some help eating the first pies. Anyone care to join me?"

"No," exclaimed Diana, rather more forcefully than necessary.

"I'll go," shrugged Jane, not seeing any reason to turn down the first cherry pie of the season.

"Me, too!" smiled Ruby, rising to her feet. Stowing the ring in her pocket, she stepped lightly toward Gilbert and put her arm through his before he even offered it.

Gilbert did not seem much put out by this forward gesture. Indeed, he crooked his other arm and invited Jane to take it. Thus accompanied, he set out for the Wright farm without a backward glance. Anne and Diana were left standing in the middle of the clearing, listening to fading peals of merry laughter skirling aloft on the gentle summer breeze.

Anne bent and retrieved the overturned basin, wiping it dry on her apron.

"It isn't dented, is it?" asked Diana.

"No. Doesn't seem to be." Anne said, turning the shining round over in her hands. "It's curious that it didn't work, though."

"I guess it really does need to be real silver," Diana shrugged. "Perhaps next time you come for tea, we could drip a little water onto the tray and try again."

"Perhaps," Anne agreed absently. "And perhaps we'll just wait and meet whatever comes when we get to that particular bend in the road. No use borrowing trouble, as Marilla would say."

"Yes," Diana sighed, sounding relieved. "You don't suppose our cherries are ripe at Orchard Slope, do you?"

"They weren't when we checked yesterday," Anne frowned. "But perhaps they have grown up overnight. Let's check again, shall we?"

Tucking the decidedly mundane tin basin under one arm, Anne reached for Diana, and hand-in hand, they went skimming over the summer fields toward home.