"Anne," with greater severity, "get off that bed this minute and listen to what I have to say to you."
Anne Shirley, you come right in here this minute, do you hear me!
Will you let me hold the brooch for one minute, Marilla?
I remember now that when I took off my shawl Monday afternoon I laid it on the bureau for a minute.
"Anne, you have talked even on for ten minutes by the clock," said Marilla.
"Five minutes ago I was so miserable I was wishing I’d never been born and now I wouldn’t change places with an angel!"
I hadn’t it on a minute.
Anne promptly departed for the sitting-room across the hall; she failed to return; after waiting ten minutes Marilla laid down her knitting and marched after her with a grim expression.
He tiptoed along the hall and stood for several minutes outside the door of the east gable before he summoned courage to tap on it with his fingers and then open the door to peep in.
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Anne could evidently be smart to some purpose for she was down-stairs in ten minutes’ time, with her clothes neatly on, her hair brushed and braided, her face washed, and a comfortable consciousness pervading her soul that she had fulfilled all Marilla’s requirements.
"I’ll get it right off—I’ll go and put the tea down this very minute."
Sit right up this very minute and tell me what you are crying about.
Anne set the card up against the jugful of apple blossoms she had brought in to decorate the dinner-table—Marilla had eyed that decoration askance, but had said nothing—propped her chin on her hands, and fell to studying it intently for several silent minutes.
"Ten minutes isn’t very long to say an eternal farewell in," said Anne tearfully.
But in about three minutes she coughed up the phlegm and began to get better right away.
"You can go, but you’re to be back here in just ten minutes, remember that."
Barry was here a few minutes ago on her way to Carmody.
Matthew Insists on Puffed Sleeves Matthew was having a bad ten minutes of it.
Carrie Sloane kept saying every few minutes, ’The time has come for us to part,’ and that would start us off again whenever we were in any danger of cheering up.
This unnatural solemnity lasted until after Diana had been taken to the east gable to lay off her hat and then had sat for ten minutes in the sitting room, toes in position.
A Concert a Catastrophe and a Confession "MARILLA, can I go over to see Diana just for a minute?" asked Anne, running breathlessly down from the east gable one February evening.
"And if there isn’t Mrs. Peter coming up the lane this blessed minute!" exclaimed Mrs. Spencer, bustling her guests through the hall into the parlor, where a deadly chill struck on them as if the air had been strained so long through dark green, closely drawn blinds that it had lost every particle of warmth it had ever possessed.
Anne did remember it and was back in the stipulated time, although probably no mortal will ever know just what it cost her to confine the discussion of Diana’s important communication within the limits of ten minutes.
When they saw Mr. Phillips emerging therefrom they ran for the schoolhouse; but the distance being about three times longer than Mr. Wright’s lane they were very apt to arrive there, breathless and gasping, some three minutes too late.
Get right up this minute and tell me.
I’d be popping up every minute or so to see where I was and if I wasn’t drifting too far out.
It was a long drive, but Anne and Diana enjoyed every minute of it.
"I’ve enjoyed every minute of the time," said Anne, throwing her arms impulsively about the old woman’s neck and kissing her wrinkled cheek.
Excuse me a minute, Diana.
I haven’t been alone one minute since it happened—and I want to be.
For a minute Anne, after her first quick exclamation of dismay, was silent.
For a few minutes Anne, drifting slowly down, enjoyed the romance of her situation to the full.
The minutes passed by, each seeming an hour to the unfortunate lily maid.
Anne was pale and quiet; in ten more minutes she would know who had won the medal and who the Avery.
Beyond those ten minutes there did not seem, just then, to be anything worth being called Time.
It seemed just a few minutes.
This minute, I say.
But mine was answered, for the flat bumped right into a pile for a minute and I flung the scarf and the shawl over my shoulder and scrambled up on a big providential stub.
They did not see Matthew, who shrank bashfully back into the shadows beyond the woodbox with a boot in one hand and a bootjack in the other, and he watched them shyly for the aforesaid ten minutes as they put on caps and jackets and talked about the dialogue and the concert.
I’m clean puzzled, that’s what, and I won’t know a minute’s peace of mind or conscience until I know what has taken Matthew Cuthbert out of Avonlea today."
She said I was only to stay ten minutes and she’s timing me by the clock."
"Father brought the paper home from Bright River not ten minutes ago—it came out on the afternoon train, you know, and won’t be here till tomorrow by mail—and when I saw the pass list I just rushed over like a wild thing.
There are no more uses of "minuteness" in the book.