Anne of Ingleside by Lucy Maud Montgomery

A bitter east wind was snarling around Ingleside like a shrewish old woman. It was one of those chill, drizzly, late August days that take the heart out of you, one of those days when everything goes wrong. what in old Avonlea days had been called "a Jonah day." The new pup Gilbert had brought home for the boys had gnawed the enamel off the dining table leg. Susan had found that the moths had been having a Roman holiday in the blanket closet. Nan's new kitten had ruined the choicest fern. Jem and Bertie Shakespeare had been making the most abominable racket in the garret all the afternoon with tin pails for drums. Anne herself had broken a painted glass lampshade. But somehow it had done her good just to hear it smash! Rilla had had earache and Shirley had a mysterious rash on his neck, which worried Anne but at which Gilbert only glanced casually and said in an absent-minded voice that he didn't think it meant anything. Of course it didn't mean anything to HIM! Shirley was only his own son! And it didn't matter to him either that he had invited the Trents to dinner one evening last week and forgotten to tell Anne until they arrived. She and Susan had had an extra busy day and had planned a pick-up supper. And Mrs. Trent with the reputation of being Charlottetown's smartest hostess! WHERE were Walter's stockings with the black tops and the blue toes? "Do you think, Walter, that you could JUST FOR ONCE put a thing where it belongs? Nan, I DON'T know where the Seven Seas are. For mercy's sake, stop asking questions! I don't wonder they poisoned Socrates. They OUGHT to have."

Walter and Nan stared. Never had they heard their mother speak in such a tone before. Walter's look annoyed Anne still more.