AnneofAvonlea

ByLUCYMAUDMONTGOMERY

AnneofAvonlea

I

AnIrateNeighbor

Atall, slimgirl, "half-past sixteen,"withseriousgrayeyesandhairwhichherfriendscalledauburn,hadsatdownonthebroadredsandstonedoorstepofa Prince Edward Island farmhouse one ripe afternoon in August, firmlyresolvedtoconstruesomanylinesofVirgil.ButanAugustafternoon,withbluehazesscarfing theharvestslopes, little

windswhisperingelfishlyinthepoplars,andadancingslendorofredpoppies

outflaming against the dark coppice of young firs in a corner of the cherryorchard,was fitter for dreams than dead languages. TheVirgil soon slippedunheededtotheground,andAnne,herchinproppedonherclaspedhands,andhereyesonthesplendidmassoffluffycloudsthatwereheapingupjustoverMr. J. A. Harrison's house like a great white mountain, was far away in adeliciousworldwhere a certain schoolteacherwas doing awonderfulwork,shaping the destinies of future statesmen, and inspiring youthfulminds andheartswithhighandloftyambitions.Tobesure,ifyoucamedowntoharshfacts...which,itmustbeconfessed,

Anne seldomdid until she had to . . . it did not seem likely that therewasmuch promising material for celebrities in Avonlea school; but you couldnever tellwhatmighthappen ifa teacherusedher influenceforgood.Annehadcertainrose-tintedidealsofwhata teachermightaccomplishifsheonlywent the rightway about it; and shewas in themidst of a delightful scene,fortyyearshence,withafamouspersonage...justexactlywhathewastobefamous for was left in convenient haziness, but Anne thought it would berathernicetohavehimacollegepresidentoraCanadianpremier...bowinglow over her wrinkled hand and assuring her that it was she who had firstkindledhisambition,andthatallhissuccessinlifewasduetothelessonsshehadinstilledsolongagoinAvonleaschool.Thispleasantvisionwasshatteredbyamostunpleasantinterruption.Ademure little Jerseycowcamescuttlingdown the laneand fiveseconds

laterMr.Harrisonarrived. . . if"arrived"benottoomildatermtodescribethemannerofhisirruptionintotheyard.He bounced over the fencewithout waiting to open the gate, and angrily

confronted astonishedAnne,whohad risen to her feet and stood looking athim in some bewilderment.Mr. Harrisonwas their new righthand neighborandshehadnevermethimbefore,althoughshehadseenhimonceortwice.InearlyApril,beforeAnnehadcomehomefromQueen's,Mr.RobertBell,

whosefarmadjoinedtheCuthbertplaceonthewest,hadsoldoutandmovedtoCharlottetown.HisfarmhadbeenboughtbyacertainMr.J.A.Harrison,whosename,andthefactthathewasaNewBrunswickman,wereallthatwasknownabouthim.ButbeforehehadbeenamonthinAvonleahehadwonthereputationofbeinganoddperson..."acrank,"Mrs.RachelLyndesaid.Mrs.Rachelwasanoutspoken lady,as thoseofyouwhomayhavealreadymadeher acquaintance will remember. Mr. Harrison was certainly different fromother people . . . and that is the essential characteristic of a crank, aseverybodyknows.In thefirstplacehekepthouseforhimselfandhadpubliclystated thathe

wanted no fools ofwomen around his diggings. FeminineAvonlea took itsrevengebythegruesometalesitrelatedabouthishouse-keepingandcooking.HehadhiredlittleJohnHenryCarterofWhiteSandsandJohnHenrystarted

the stories. For one thing, therewas never any stated time formeals in theHarrisonestablishment.Mr.Harrison"gotabite"whenhefelthungry,andifJohnHenrywerearoundatthetime,hecameinforashare,butifhewerenot,hehadtowaituntilMr.Harrison'snexthungryspell.JohnHenrymournfullyaverred thathewouldhavestarved todeath if itwasn't thathegothomeonSundays and got a good filling up, and that hismother always gave him abasketof"grub"totakebackwithhimonMondaymornings.As forwashing dishes,Mr.Harrison nevermade any pretence of doing it

unless a rainySunday came.Thenhewent towork andwashed themall atonceintherainwaterhogshead,andleftthemtodraindry.Again,Mr.Harrisonwas "close."When hewas asked to subscribe to the

Rev.Mr.Allan'ssalaryhesaidhe'dwaitandseehowmanydollars'worthofgoodhegotoutofhispreachingfirst...hedidn'tbelieveinbuyingapiginapoke.AndwhenMrs.Lyndewenttoaskforacontributiontomissions...andincidentally to see the inside of the house . . . he told her thereweremoreheathens among the old woman gossips in Avonlea than anywhere else heknewof,andhe'dcheerfullycontributetoamissionforChristianizingthemifshe'dundertakeit.Mrs.RachelgotherselfawayandsaiditwasamercypoorMrs.RobertBellwassafeinhergrave,foritwouldhavebrokenherhearttoseethestateofherhouseinwhichsheusedtotakesomuchpride."Why, she scrubbed the kitchen floor every second day,"Mrs. Lynde told

MarillaCuthbert indignantly, "and ifyoucouldsee itnow! Ihad toholdupmyskirtsasIwalkedacrossit."Finally,Mr.Harrison kept a parrot calledGinger.Nobody inAvonlea had

everkeptaparrotbefore;consequentlythatproceedingwasconsideredbarelyrespectable.Andsuchaparrot! Ifyou tookJohnHenryCarter'sword for it,neverwassuchanunholybird.Itsworeterribly.Mrs.CarterwouldhavetakenJohnHenryawayatonceifshehadbeensureshecouldgetanotherplaceforhim.Besides,GingerhadbittenapiecerightoutofthebackofJohnHenry'sneck one day when he had stooped down too near the cage. Mrs. Cartershowed everybody the mark when the luckless John Henry went home onSundays.All these things flashed throughAnne'smindasMr.Harrison stood,quite

speechlesswithwrath apparently, beforeher. Inhismost amiablemoodMr.Harrisoncouldnothavebeenconsideredahandsomeman;hewasshortandfatandbald;andnow,withhisroundfacepurplewithrageandhisprominentblue eyes almost sticking out of his head, Anne thought he was really theugliestpersonshehadeverseen.AllatonceMr.Harrisonfoundhisvoice."I'mnotgoingtoputupwiththis,"hespluttered,"notadaylonger,doyou

hear, miss. Bless my soul, this is the third time, miss . . . the third time!

Patiencehasceasedtobeavirtue,miss.Iwarnedyourauntthelasttimenottoletitoccuragain...andshe'sletit...she'sdoneit...whatdoesshemeanbyit,thatiswhatIwanttoknow.ThatiswhatI'mhereabout,miss.""Willyouexplainwhat the trouble is?" askedAnne, inhermostdignified

manner. She had been practicing it considerably of late to have it in goodworkingorderwhenschoolbegan;butithadnoapparenteffectontheirateJ.A.Harrison."Trouble,isit?Blessmysoul,troubleenough,Ishouldthink.Thetroubleis,

miss,thatIfoundthatJerseycowofyouraunt'sinmyoatsagain,nothalfanhourago.The third time,markyou. I foundher in lastTuesdayandI foundherinyesterday.Icamehereandtoldyourauntnottoletitoccuragain.Shehas let it occur again.Where's your aunt,miss? I justwant to see her for aminuteandgiveherapieceofmymind...apieceofJ.A.Harrison'smind,miss.""IfyoumeanMissMarillaCuthbert,she isnotmyaunt,andshehasgone

down toEastGrafton to see a distant relative of herswho is very ill," saidAnne,withdue increaseofdignity at everyword. "I amvery sorry thatmycow should have broken into your oats . . . she is my cow and not MissCuthbert's...MatthewgavehertomethreeyearsagowhenshewasalittlecalfandheboughtherfromMr.Bell.""Sorry,miss!Sorryisn'tgoingtohelpmattersany.You'dbettergoandlook

atthehavocthatanimalhasmadeinmyoats...trampledthemfromcentertocircumference,miss.""I am very sorry," repeated Anne firmly, "but perhaps if you kept your

fences inbetter repairDollymightnothavebroken in. It isyourpartof thelinefencethatseparatesyouroatfieldfromourpastureandInoticedtheotherdaythatitwasnotinverygoodcondition.""My fence is all right," snapped Mr. Harrison, angrier than ever at this

carryingof thewar into theenemy'scountry."The jail fencecouldn'tkeepademonofacowlikethatout.AndIcantellyou,youredheadedsnippet,thatifthecowisyours,asyousay,you'dbebetteremployedinwatchingheroutofotherpeople'sgrainthaninsittingroundreadingyellow-coverednovels,"...withascathingglanceattheinnocenttan-coloredVirgilbyAnne'sfeet.Something at that moment was red besides Anne's hair . . . which had

alwaysbeenatenderpointwithher."I'd rather have red hair than none at all, except a little fringe roundmy

ears,"sheflashed.Theshottold,forMr.Harrisonwasreallyverysensitiveabouthisbaldhead.

HisangerchokedhimupagainandhecouldonlyglarespeechlesslyatAnne,whorecoveredhertemperandfollowedupheradvantage."Icanmakeallowanceforyou,Mr.Harrison,becauseIhaveanimagination.

IcaneasilyimaginehowverytryingitmustbetofindacowinyouroatsandIshall not cherish any hard feelings against you for the things you've said. IpromiseyouthatDollyshallneverbreakintoyouroatsagain.IgiveyoumywordofhonoronTHATpoint.""Well,mindyoushedoesn't,"mutteredMr.Harrisoninasomewhatsubdued

tone; but he stamped off angrily enough and Anne heard him growling tohimselfuntilhewasoutofearshot.Grievouslydisturbed inmind,Annemarched across theyard and shut the

naughtyJerseyupinthemilkingpen."She can't possibly get out of that unless she tears the fence down," she

reflected."She looksprettyquietnow. Idaresayshehassickenedherselfonthoseoats. IwishI'dsoldher toMr.Shearerwhenhewantedher lastweek,butIthoughtitwasjustaswelltowaituntilwehadtheauctionofthestockand let them all go together. I believe it is true aboutMr.Harrison being acrank.Certainlythere'snothingofthekindredspiritaboutHIM."Annehadalwaysaweathereyeopenforkindredspirits.MarillaCuthbertwasdrivingintotheyardasAnnereturnedfromthehouse,

andthelatterflewtogetteaready.Theydiscussedthematterattheteatable."I'll be glad when the auction is over," said Marilla. "It is too much

responsibility having so much stock about the place and nobody but thatunreliable Martin to look after them. He has never come back yet and hepromisedthathewouldcertainlybebacklastnightifI'dgivehimthedayofftogotohisaunt'sfuneral.Idon'tknowhowmanyauntshehasgot,Iamsure.That's the fourth that'sdiedsincehehiredhereayearago. I'llbemore thanthankfulwhenthecropisinandMr.Barrytakesoverthefarm.We'llhavetokeepDolly shut up in thepen tillMartin comes, for shemust beput in thebackpastureandthefencestherehavetobefixed.Ideclare, it isaworldoftrouble,asRachelsays.Here'spoorMaryKeithdyingandwhatistobecomeofthosetwochildrenofhersismorethanIknow.ShehasabrotherinBritishColumbia and shehaswritten tohimabout them,but shehasn't heard fromhimyet.""Whatarethechildrenlike?Howoldarethey?""Sixpast...they'retwins.""Oh, I've always been especially interested in twins ever since Mrs.

Hammondhadsomany,"saidAnneeagerly."Aretheypretty?""Goodness, you couldn't tell . . . theywere too dirty. Davy had been out

makingmudpiesandDorawentouttocallhimin.Davypushedherheadfirstinto the biggest pie and then, because she cried, he got into it himself andwallowedin it toshowher itwasnothingtocryabout.MarysaidDorawasreallyaverygoodchildbutthatDavywasfullofmischief.Hehasneverhadanybringingupyoumightsay.HisfatherdiedwhenhewasababyandMary

hasbeensickalmosteversince.""I'malwayssorryforchildrenthathavenobringingup,"saidAnnesoberly.

"YouknowIhadn'tanytillyoutookmeinhand.Ihopetheirunclewilllookafterthem.JustwhatrelationisMrs.Keithtoyou?""Mary?Noneintheworld.Itwasherhusband...hewasourthirdcousin.

There'sMrs. Lynde coming through the yard. I thought she'd be up to hearaboutMary.""Don'ttellheraboutMr.Harrisonandthecow,"imploredAnne.Marilla promised; but the promisewas quite unnecessary, forMrs. Lynde

wasnosoonerfairlyseatedthanshesaid,"I sawMr.HarrisonchasingyourJerseyoutofhisoats todaywhen Iwas

cominghome fromCarmody. I thought he lookedprettymad.Did hemakemuchofarumpus?"Anne and Marilla furtively exchanged amused smiles. Few things in

AvonleaeverescapedMrs.Lynde.ItwasonlythatmorningAnnehadsaid,"Ifyouwent toyourownroomatmidnight, locked thedoor,pulleddown

theblind,andSNEEZED,Mrs.Lyndewouldaskyouthenextdayhowyourcoldwas!""Ibelievehedid,"admittedMarilla."Iwasaway.HegaveAnneapieceof

hismind.""Ithinkheisaverydisagreeableman,"saidAnne,witharesentfultossof

herruddyhead."Youneversaidatruerword,"saidMrs.Rachelsolemnly."Iknewthere'dbe

troublewhenRobertBellsoldhisplacetoaNewBrunswickman,that'swhat.Idon'tknowwhatAvonleaiscomingto,withsomanystrangepeoplerushingintoit.It'llsoonnotbesafetogotosleepinourbeds.""Why,whatotherstrangersarecomingin?"askedMarilla."Haven't you heard? Well, there's a family of Donnells, for one thing.

They've rented Peter Sloane's old house. Peter has hired theman to run hismill.Theybelongdowneast andnobodyknows anything about them.ThenthatshiftlessTimothyCottonfamilyaregoingtomoveupfromWhiteSandsandthey'llsimplybeaburdenonthepublic.Heisinconsumption...whenheisn'tstealing...andhiswifeisaslack-twistedcreaturethatcan'tturnherhand to a thing.ShewashesherdishesSITTINGDOWN.Mrs.GeorgePyehastakenherhusband'sorphannephew,AnthonyPye.He'llbegoingtoschooltoyou,Anne,soyoumayexpecttrouble,that'swhat.Andyou'llhaveanotherstrange pupil, too. Paul Irving is coming from the States to live with hisgrandmother.Yourememberhis father,Marilla . . .Stephen Irving,him thatjiltedLavendarLewisoveratGrafton?""I don't think he jilted her. There was a quarrel . . . I suppose there was

blameonbothsides.""Well,anyway,hedidn'tmarryher,andshe'sbeenasqueeraspossibleever

since,theysay...livingallbyherselfinthatlittlestonehouseshecallsEchoLodge.Stephenwentoff to theStatesandwent intobusinesswithhisuncleandmarried a Yankee. He's never been home since, though hismother hasbeen up to see him once or twice. His wife died two years ago and he'ssendingtheboyhometohismotherforaspell.He'stenyearsoldandIdon'tknow if he'll be a very desirable pupil. You can never tell about thoseYankees."Mrs Lynde looked upon all peoplewho had themisfortune to be born or

broughtupelsewhere than inPrinceEdward Islandwith adecidedcan-any-good-thing-come-out-of-Nazareth air. They MIGHT be good people, ofcourse; but you were on the safe side in doubting it. She had a specialprejudiceagainst"Yankees."Herhusbandhadbeencheatedoutoftendollarsbyanemployer forwhomhehadonceworked inBostonandneitherangelsnorprincipalitiesnorpowerscouldhaveconvincedMrs.RachelthatthewholeUnitedStateswasnotresponsibleforit."Avonlea school won't be the worse for a little new blood," saidMarilla

drily,"andifthisboyisanythinglikehisfatherhe'llbeallright.SteveIrvingwasthenicestboythatwaseverraisedintheseparts,thoughsomepeopledidcall him proud. I should thinkMrs. Irving would be very glad to have thechild.Shehasbeenverylonesomesinceherhusbanddied.""Oh, the boy may be well enough, but he'll be different from Avonlea

children," said Mrs. Rachel, as if that clinched the matter. Mrs. Rachel'sopinions concerning any person, place, or thing, were always warranted towear."What'sthisIhearaboutyourgoingtostartupaVillageImprovementSociety,Anne?""I was just talking it over with some of the girls and boys at the last

DebatingClub,"saidAnne,flushing."Theythoughtitwouldberathernice...andsodoMr.andMrs.Allan.Lotsofvillageshavethemnow.""Well, you'll get intono endof hotwater if youdo.Better leave it alone,

Anne,that'swhat.Peopledon'tlikebeingimproved.""Oh,wearenotgoing to try to improve thePEOPLE. It isAvonlea itself.

Therearelotsofthingswhichmightbedonetomakeitprettier.Forinstance,ifwecouldcoaxMr.LeviBoultertopulldownthatdreadfuloldhouseonhisupperfarmwouldn'tthatbeanimprovement?""It certainly would," admitted Mrs. Rachel. "That old ruin has been an

eyesore to the settlement for years. But if you Improvers can coax LeviBoultertodoanythingforthepublicthatheisn'ttobepaidfordoing,mayIbe there to see and hear the process, that'swhat. I don'twant to discourageyou,Anne,fortheremaybesomethinginyouridea,thoughIsupposeyoudid

getitoutofsomerubbishyYankeemagazine;butyou'llhaveyourhandsfullwith your school and I advise you as a friend not to bother with yourimprovements,that'swhat.Butthere,Iknowyou'llgoaheadwithitifyou'vesetyourmindonit.Youwerealwaysonetocarryathingthroughsomehow."SomethingaboutthefirmoutlinesofAnne'slipstoldthatMrs.Rachelwas

not far astray in this estimate. Anne's heart was bent on forming theImprovementSociety.GilbertBlythe,whowas to teach inWhite Sands butwould always be home from Friday night to Monday morning, wasenthusiastic about it; andmost of the other folks were willing to go in foranythingthatmeantoccasionalmeetingsandconsequentlysome"fun."Asforwhat the"improvements"weretobe,nobodyhadanyveryclear ideaexceptAnneandGilbert.Theyhad talked themoverandplannedthemoutuntilanidealAvonleaexistedintheirminds,ifnowhereelse.Mrs.Rachelhadstillanotheritemofnews."They've given theCarmody school to a PriscillaGrant.Didn't you go to

Queen'swithagirlofthatname,Anne?""Yes, indeed. Priscilla to teach at Carmody! How perfectly lovely!"

exclaimedAnne,hergrayeyeslightingupuntiltheylookedlikeeveningstars,causingMrs. Lynde towonder anew if shewould ever get it settled to hersatisfactionwhetherAnneShirleywerereallyaprettygirlornot.

IISellinginHasteandRepentingat

Leisure

Annedroveover toCarmodyona shoppingexpedition thenextafternoonandtookDianaBarrywithher.Dianawas,ofcourse,apledgedmemberoftheImprovementSociety,andthetwogirlstalkedaboutlittleelseall thewaytoCarmodyandback."Theveryfirstthingweoughttodowhenwegetstartedistohavethathall

painted," said Diana, as they drove past the Avonlea hall, a rather shabbybuildingsetdowninawoodedhollow,withsprucetreeshoodingitaboutonallsides."It'sadisgracefullookingplaceandwemustattendtoitevenbeforewetrytogetMr.LeviBouldertopullhishousedown.Fathersayswe'llneversucceedinDOINGthat.LeviBoulteristoomeantospendthetimeitwouldtake.""Perhapshe'll let theboys take itdown if theypromise tohaul theboards

andsplitthemupforhimforkindlingwood,"saidAnnehopefully."Wemust

doourbestandbecontent togoslowlyat first.Wecan't expect to improveeverythingallatonce.We'llhavetoeducatepublicsentimentfirst,ofcourse."Diana wasn't exactly sure what educating public sentiment meant; but it

sounded fine and she felt rather proud that she was going to belong to asocietywithsuchanaiminview."I thoughtof something lastnight thatwecoulddo,Anne.Youknow that

three-corneredpieceofgroundwheretheroadsfromCarmodyandNewbridgeandWhiteSandsmeet?It'sallgrownoverwithyoungspruce;butwouldn'titbenicetohavethemallclearedout,andjustleavethetwoorthreebirchtreesthatareonit?""Splendid,"agreedAnnegaily."Andhavearusticseatputunderthebirches.

Andwhenspringcomeswe'llhaveaflower-bedmadeinthemiddleofitandplantgeraniums.""Yes;onlywe'llhavetodevisesomewayofgettingoldMrs.HiramSloane

tokeephercowofftheroad,orshe'lleatourgeraniumsup,"laughedDiana."Ibegintoseewhatyoumeanbyeducatingpublicsentiment,Anne.There'stheoldBoulterhousenow.Didyoueverseesucharookery?Andperchedrightclosetotheroadtoo.Anoldhousewithitswindowsgonealwaysmakesmethinkofsomethingdeadwithitseyespickedout.""Ithinkanold,desertedhouseissuchasadsight,"saidAnnedreamily."It

alwaysseemstometobethinkingaboutitspastandmourningforitsold-timejoys.Marilla says that a large familywas raised in thatoldhouse longago,andthatitwasarealprettyplace,withalovelygardenandrosesclimbingallover it. It was full of little children and laughter and songs; and now it isempty, and nothing ever wanders through it but the wind. How lonely andsorrowfulitmustfeel!Perhapstheyallcomebackonmoonlitnights.. .theghostsofthelittlechildrenoflongagoandtherosesandthesongs...andforalittlewhiletheoldhousecandreamitisyoungandjoyousagain."Dianashookherhead."I never imagine things like that about places now, Anne. Don't you

rememberhowcrossmotherandMarillawerewhenweimaginedghostsintotheHauntedWood?TothisdayIcan'tgothroughthatbushcomfortablyafterdark;andifIbeganimaginingsuchthingsabouttheoldBoulterhouseI'dbefrightenedtopassittoo.Besides,thosechildrenaren'tdead.They'reallgrownupanddoingwell . . .andoneof themisabutcher.Andflowersandsongscouldn'thaveghostsanyhow."Annesmothereda little sigh.She lovedDianadearlyand theyhadalways

beengoodcomrades.But shehad longago learned thatwhenshewanderedintotherealmoffancyshemustgoalone.Thewaytoitwasbyanenchantedpathwherenotevenherdearestmightfollowher.Athunder-showercameupwhilethegirlswereatCarmody;itdidnotlast

long, however, and the drive home, through lanes where the raindropssparkledontheboughsandlittleleafyvalleyswherethedrenchedfernsgaveoutspicyodors,wasdelightful.ButjustastheyturnedintotheCuthbertlaneAnnesawsomethingthatspoiledthebeautyofthelandscapeforher.BeforethemontherightextendedMr.Harrison'sbroad,gray-greenfieldof

lateoats,wetandluxuriant;andthere,standingsquarelyinthemiddleofit,upto her sleek sides in the lush growth, and blinking at them calmly over theinterveningtassels,wasaJerseycow!Annedroppedthereinsandstoodupwithatighteningofthelipsthatboded

no good to the predatory quadruped.Not aword said she, but she climbednimbly down over the wheels, and whisked across the fence before Dianaunderstoodwhathadhappened."Anne, come back," shrieked the latter, as soon as she found her voice.

"You'llruinyourdressinthatwetgrain...ruinit.Shedoesn'thearme!Well,she'llnevergetthatcowoutbyherself.Imustgoandhelpher,ofcourse."Annewaschargingthroughthegrainlikeamadthing.Dianahoppedbriskly

down,tiedthehorsesecurelytoapost,turnedtheskirtofherprettyginghamdress over her shoulders, mounted the fence, and started in pursuit of herfrantic friend. She could run faster than Anne, who was hampered by herclinginganddrenched skirt, and soonovertookher.Behind them they left atrailthatwouldbreakMr.Harrison'sheartwhenheshouldseeit."Anne,formercy'ssake,stop,"pantedpoorDiana."I'mrightoutofbreath

andyouarewettotheskin.""Imust.. .get.. .thatcow...out.. .before.. .Mr.Harrison...sees

her,"gaspedAnne."Idon't...care...ifI'm...drowned...ifwe...can...only...dothat."ButtheJerseycowappearedtoseenogoodreasonforbeinghustledoutof

herlusciousbrowsingground.Nosoonerhadthetwobreathlessgirlsgotnearherthansheturnedandboltedsquarelyfortheoppositecornerofthefield."Headheroff,"screamedAnne."Run,Diana,run."Dianadidrun.Annetriedto,andthewickedJerseywentaroundthefieldas

if she were possessed. Privately, Diana thought she was. It was fully tenminutesbeforetheyheadedheroffanddroveherthroughthecornergapintotheCuthbertlane.ThereisnodenyingthatAnnewasinanythingbutanangelictemperatthat

precisemoment.Nordiditsootheherintheleasttobeholdabuggyhaltedjustoutside the lane, wherein satMr. Shearer of Carmody and his son, both ofwhomworeabroadsmile."Iguessyou'dbetterhavesoldmethatcowwhenIwantedtobuyher last

week,Anne,"chuckledMr.Shearer.

"I'll sellher toyounow, ifyouwanther,"saidher flushedanddisheveledowner."Youmayhaveherthisveryminute.""Done. I'll give you twenty for her as I offered before, and Jim here can

driveherrightovertoCarmody.She'llgototownwiththerestoftheshipmentthisevening.Mr.ReedofBrightonwantsaJerseycow."Fiveminutes later Jim Shearer and the Jersey cowweremarching up the

road,and impulsiveAnnewasdrivingalong theGreenGables lanewithhertwentydollars."WhatwillMarillasay?"askedDiana."Oh,shewon'tcare.Dollywasmyowncowand it isn't likelyshe'dbring

morethantwentydollarsattheauction.Butohdear,ifMr.Harrisonseesthatgrainhewillknowshehasbeeninagain,andaftermygivinghimmywordofhonorthatI'dneverletithappen!Well,ithastaughtmealessonnottogivemywordofhonoraboutcows.Acowthatcouldjumpoverorbreakthroughourmilk-penfencecouldn'tbetrustedanywhere."Marilla had gone down toMrs. Lynde's, andwhen she returned knew all

about Dolly's sale and transfer, for Mrs. Lynde had seen most of thetransactionfromherwindowandguessedtherest."Isupposeit'sjustaswellshe'sgone,thoughyouDOdothingsinadreadful

headlongfashion,Anne. Idon'tseehowshegotoutof thepen, though.Shemusthavebrokensomeoftheboardsoff.""Ididn't thinkof looking,"saidAnne,"butI'llgoandseenow.Martinhas

nevercomebackyet.Perhapssomemoreofhisauntshavedied. I think it'ssomething like Mr. Peter Sloane and the octogenarians. The other eveningMrs.SloanewasreadinganewspaperandshesaidtoMr.Sloane, 'Iseeherethatanotheroctogenarianhasjustdied.Whatisanoctogenarian,Peter?'AndMr.Sloanesaidhedidn'tknow,buttheymustbeverysicklycreatures,foryounever heard tell of them but theywere dying. That's thewaywithMartin'saunts.""Martin'sjustlikealltherestofthoseFrench,"saidMarillaindisgust."You

can'tdependon them for aday."Marillawas lookingoverAnne'sCarmodypurchaseswhensheheardashrillshriekinthebarnyard.AminutelaterAnnedashedintothekitchen,wringingherhands."AnneShirley,what'sthematternow?""Oh,Marilla,whatevershallIdo?Thisisterrible.Andit'sallmyfault.Oh,

willIEVERlearntostopandreflectalittlebeforedoingrecklessthings?Mrs.LyndealwaystoldmeIwoulddosomethingdreadfulsomeday,andnowI'vedoneit!""Anne,youarethemostexasperatinggirl!WHATisityou'vedone?""SoldMr.Harrison'sJerseycow...theoneheboughtfromMr.Bell...to

Mr.Shearer!Dollyisoutinthemilkingpenthisveryminute.""AnneShirley,areyoudreaming?""I only wish I were. There's no dream about it, though it's very like a

nightmare. And Mr. Harrison's cow is in Charlottetown by this time. Oh,Marilla,I thoughtI'dfinishedgettingintoscrapes,andhereIamintheveryworstoneIeverwasininmylife.WhatcanIdo?""Do?There'snothingtodo,child,exceptgoandseeMr.Harrisonaboutit.

WecanofferhimourJerseyinexchangeifhedoesn'twanttotakethemoney.Sheisjustasgoodashis.""I'msurehe'llbeawfullycrossanddisagreeableaboutit,though,"moaned

Anne."I daresay hewill. He seems to be an irritable sort of aman. I'll go and

explaintohimifyoulike.""No,indeed,I'mnotasmeanasthat,"exclaimedAnne."Thisisallmyfault

andI'mcertainlynotgoingtoletyoutakemypunishment.I'llgomyselfandI'll go at once. The sooner it's over the better, for it will be terriblyhumiliating."PoorAnnegotherhatandhertwentydollarsandwaspassingoutwhenshe

happenedtoglancethroughtheopenpantrydoor.Onthetablereposedanutcake which she had baked that morning . . . a particularly toothsomeconcoctionicedwithpinkicingandadornedwithwalnuts.Annehadintendedit for Friday evening, when the youth of Avonlea were to meet at GreenGablestoorganizetheImprovementSociety.ButwhatweretheycomparedtothejustlyoffendedMr.Harrison?Annethoughtthatcakeoughttosoftentheheart of anyman, especially one who had to do his own cooking, and shepromptlypopped it intoabox.Shewould take it toMr.Harrisonasapeaceoffering."Thatis,ifhegivesmeachancetosayanythingatall,"shethoughtruefully,

as she climbed the lane fence and started on a short cut across the fields,golden in the light of the dreamy August evening. "I know now just howpeoplefeelwhoarebeingledtoexecution."

IIIMr.HarrisonatHome

Mr. Harrison's house was an old-fashioned, low-eaved, whitewashedstructure,setagainstathicksprucegrove.Mr. Harrison himself was sitting on his vineshaded veranda, in his shirt

sleeves,enjoyinghiseveningpipe.Whenherealizedwhowascomingupthe

pathhesprangsuddenlytohisfeet,boltedintothehouse,andshut thedoor.Thiswasmerelytheuncomfortableresultofhissurprise,mingledwithagooddealofshameoverhisoutburstoftemperthedaybefore.ButitnearlyswepttheremnantofhercouragefromAnne'sheart."If he's so crossnowwhatwill hebewhenhehearswhat I'vedone," she

reflectedmiserably,assherappedatthedoor.ButMr.Harrisonopenedit,smilingsheepishly,andinvitedhertoenterina

tonequitemildandfriendly,ifsomewhatnervous.Hehadlaidasidehispipeanddonnedhiscoat;heofferedAnneaverydustychairverypolitely,andherreceptionwouldhavepassedoffpleasantlyenoughif ithadnotbeenfor thetelltaleofaparrotwhowaspeeringthroughthebarsofhiscagewithwickedgoldeneyes.NosoonerhadAnneseatedherselfthanGingerexclaimed,"Blessmysoul,what'sthatredheadedsnippetcomingherefor?"Itwouldbehardtosaywhosefacewastheredder,Mr.Harrison'sorAnne's."Don'tyoumindthatparrot,"saidMr.Harrison,castingafuriousglanceat

Ginger."He's...he'salwaystalkingnonsense.Igothimfrommybrotherwhowas a sailor. Sailors don't always use the choicest language, and parrots areveryimitativebirds.""SoIshouldthink,"saidpoorAnne,theremembranceofhererrandquelling

her resentment. She couldn't afford to snub Mr. Harrison under thecircumstances, thatwascertain.Whenyouhad just soldaman's Jerseycowoffhand,without his knowledge or consent youmust notmind if his parrotrepeateduncomplimentary things.Nevertheless, the"redheadedsnippet"wasnotquitesomeekasshemightotherwisehavebeen."I'vecometoconfesssomethingtoyou,Mr.Harrison,"shesaidresolutely.

"It's...it'sabout...thatJerseycow.""Bless my soul," exclaimed Mr. Harrison nervously, "has she gone and

brokenintomyoatsagain?Well,nevermind...nevermindifshehas.It'snodifference...noneatall,I...Iwastoohastyyesterday,that'safact.Nevermindifshehas.""Oh,ifitwereonlythat,"sighedAnne."Butit'stentimesworse.Idon't...""Blessmysoul,doyoumeantosayshe'sgotintomywheat?""No...no...notthewheat.But...""Thenit'sthecabbages!She'sbrokenintomycabbagesthatIwasraisingfor

Exhibition,hey?""It'sNOTthecabbages,Mr.Harrison.I'lltellyoueverything...thatiswhat

Icamefor—butpleasedon'tinterruptme.Itmakesmesonervous.Justletmetell my story and don't say anything till I get through—and then no doubtyou'llsayplenty,"Anneconcluded,butinthoughtonly."Iwon'tsayanotherword,"saidMr.Harrison,andhedidn't.ButGingerwas

not bound by any contract of silence and kept ejaculating, "Redheadedsnippet"atintervalsuntilAnnefeltquitewild."I shut my Jersey cow up in our pen yesterday. This morning I went to

CarmodyandwhenIcamebackIsawaJerseycowinyouroats.DianaandIchased her out and you can't imagine what a hard time we had. I was sodreadfully wet and tired and vexed—and Mr. Shearer came by that veryminuteandoffered tobuy thecow. I soldher tohimon the spot for twentydollars. Itwaswrongofme. I shouldhavewaitedandconsultedMarilla,ofcourse.ButI'mdreadfullygiventodoingthingswithoutthinking—everybodywhoknowsmewilltellyouthat.Mr.Shearertookthecowrightawaytoshipherontheafternoontrain.""Redheadedsnippet,"quotedGingerinatoneofprofoundcontempt.At this pointMr.Harrison arose and,with an expression thatwould have

struckterrorintoanybirdbutaparrot,carriedGinger'scageintoanadjoiningroom and shut the door. Ginger shrieked, swore, and otherwise conductedhimselfinkeepingwithhisreputation,butfindinghimselfleftalone,relapsedintosulkysilence."Excusemeandgoon,"saidMr.Harrison,sittingdownagain."Mybrother

thesailornevertaughtthatbirdanymanners.""IwenthomeandafterteaIwentouttothemilkingpen.Mr.Harrison,"...

Anneleanedforward,claspingherhandswithheroldchildishgesture,whileherbiggrayeyesgazedimploringlyintoMr.Harrison'sembarrassedface..."Ifoundmycowstillshutupinthepen.ItwasYOURcowIhadsoldtoMr.Shearer.""Bless my soul," exclaimed Mr. Harrison, in blank amazement at this

unlooked-forconclusion."WhataVERYextraordinarything!""Oh, it isn't in the least extraordinary that I should be gettingmyself and

other people into scrapes," said Anne mournfully. "I'm noted for that. YoumightsupposeI'dhavegrownoutofitbythistime...I'llbeseventeennextMarch...butitseemsthatIhaven't.Mr.Harrison,isittoomuchtohopethatyou'llforgiveme?I'mafraidit'stoolatetogetyourcowback,buthereisthemoneyforher . . .oryoucanhavemineinexchangeifyou'drather.She'saverygoodcow.AndIcan'texpresshowsorryIamforitall.""Tut,tut,"saidMr.Harrisonbriskly,"don'tsayanotherwordaboutit,miss.

It'sofnoconsequence. . .noconsequencewhatever.Accidentswillhappen.I'm too hasty myself sometimes, miss . . . far too hasty. But I can't helpspeakingoutjustwhatIthinkandfolksmusttakemeastheyfindme.Ifthatcowhadbeeninmycabbagesnow...butnevermind,shewasn't,soit'sallright.IthinkI'dratherhaveyourcowinexchange,sinceyouwanttoberidofher.""Oh, thankyou,Mr.Harrison. I'msogladyouarenotvexed. Iwasafraid

youwouldbe.""AndIsupposeyouwerescaredtodeathtocomehereandtellme,afterthe

fussImadeyesterday,hey?Butyoumustn'tmindme,I'materribleoutspokenoldfellow,that'sall...awfulapttotellthetruth,nomatterifitisabitplain.""SoisMrs.Lynde,"saidAnne,beforeshecouldpreventherself."Who?Mrs. Lynde?Don't you tellme I'm like that old gossip," saidMr.

Harrisonirritably."I'mnot...notabit.Whathaveyougotinthatbox?""A cake," said Anne archly. In her relief at Mr. Harrison's unexpected

amiabilityherspiritssoaredupwardfeather-light."Ibroughtitoverforyou...Ithoughtperhapsyoudidn'thavecakeveryoften.""I don't, that's a fact, and I'mmighty fondof it, too. I'mmuchobliged to

you.Itlooksgoodontop.Ihopeit'sgoodallthewaythrough.""Itis,"saidAnne,gailyconfident."Ihavemadecakesinmytimethatwere

NOT,asMrs.Allancouldtellyou,but thisoneisall right.Imadeit for theImprovementSociety,butIcanmakeanotherforthem.""Well,I'lltellyouwhat,miss,youmusthelpmeeatit.I'llputthekettleon

andwe'llhaveacupoftea.Howwillthatdo?""Willyouletmemakethetea?"saidAnnedubiously.Mr.Harrisonchuckled."Iseeyouhaven'tmuchconfidenceinmyabilitytomaketea.You'rewrong

. . . I canbrewup asgood a jorumof tea as you ever drank.But go aheadyourself.FortunatelyitrainedlastSunday,sothere'splentyofcleandishes."Annehoppedbrisklyupandwenttowork.Shewashedtheteapotinseveral

watersbefore sheput the tea to steep.Then she swept the stoveand set thetable,bringingthedishesoutof thepantry.Thestateof thatpantryhorrifiedAnne, but shewisely said nothing.Mr. Harrison told herwhere to find thebreadandbutterandacanofpeaches.Anneadornedthetablewithabouquetfromthegardenandshuthereyestothestainsonthetablecloth.Soontheteawas ready andAnne found herself sitting oppositeMr.Harrison at his owntable,pouringhisteaforhim,andchattingfreelytohimaboutherschoolandfriendsandplans.Shecouldhardlybelievetheevidenceofhersenses.Mr.HarrisonhadbroughtGingerback,averringthatthepoorbirdwouldbe

lonesome;andAnne,feelingthatshecouldforgiveeverybodyandeverything,offeredhimawalnut.ButGinger's feelingshadbeengrievouslyhurtandherejectedalloverturesoffriendship.Hesatmoodilyonhisperchandruffledhisfeathersupuntilhelookedlikeamereballofgreenandgold."WhydoyoucallhimGinger?"askedAnne,wholikedappropriatenames

andthoughtGingeraccordednotatallwithsuchgorgeousplumage."My brother the sailor named him. Maybe it had some reference to his

temper. I thinka lotof thatbird though . . . you'dbe surprised ifyouknew

howmuch.Hehashisfaultsofcourse.Thatbirdhascostmeagooddealoneway and another. Somepeople object to his swearing habits but he can't bebroken of them. I've tried . . . other people have tried. Some folks haveprejudicesagainstparrots.Silly,ain't it?I likethemmyself.Ginger'sa lotofcompanytome.Nothingwouldinducemetogivethatbirdup...nothingintheworld,miss."Mr. Harrison flung the last sentence at Anne as explosively as if he

suspected her of some latent design of persuading him to give Ginger up.Anne,however,wasbeginningtolikethequeer,fussy,fidgetylittleman,andbeforethemealwasovertheywerequitegoodfriends.Mr.HarrisonfoundoutabouttheImprovementSocietyandwasdisposedtoapproveofit."That's right. Go ahead. There's lots of room for improvement in this

settlement...andinthepeopletoo.""Oh,Idon'tknow,"flashedAnne.Toherself,ortoherparticularcronies,she

might admit that therewere some small imperfections, easily removable, inAvonleaanditsinhabitants.ButtohearapracticaloutsiderlikeMr.Harrisonsayingitwasanentirelydifferentthing."IthinkAvonleaisalovelyplace;andthepeopleinitareverynice,too.""Iguessyou'vegotaspiceoftemper,"commentedMr.Harrison,surveying

the flushed cheeks and indignant eyes opposite him. "It goeswith hair likeyours, I reckon.Avonlea is a pretty decent place or Iwouldn't have locatedhere;butIsupposeevenyouwilladmitthatithasSOMEfaults?""I like it all the better for them," said loyal Anne. "I don't like places or

people either thathaven't any faults. I thinka trulyperfectpersonwouldbeveryuninteresting.Mrs.MiltonWhitesaysshenevermetaperfectperson,butshe'sheardenoughaboutone. . .herhusband'sfirstwife.Don'tyouthinkitmust be very uncomfortable to be married to a man whose first wife wasperfect?""Itwouldbemoreuncomfortabletobemarriedtotheperfectwife,"declared

Mr.Harrison,withasuddenandinexplicablewarmth.When tea was over Anne insisted on washing the dishes, although Mr.

Harrisonassuredherthattherewereenoughinthehousetodoforweeksyet.Shewoulddearlyhavelovedtosweeptheflooralso,butnobroomwasvisibleandshedidnotliketoaskwhereitwasforfeartherewasn'toneatall."You might run across and talk to me once in a while," suggested Mr.

Harrisonwhenshewasleaving."'Tisn'tfarandfolksoughttobeneighborly.I'mkindof interested in that societyofyours.Seems tome there'llbesomefuninit.Whoareyougoingtotacklefirst?""WearenotgoingtomeddlewithPEOPLE...itisonlyPLACESwemean

to improve," said Anne, in a dignified tone. She rather suspected that Mr.Harrisonwasmakingfunoftheproject.

WhenshehadgoneMr.Harrisonwatchedherfromthewindow...alithe,girlishshape,trippinglightheartedlyacrossthefieldsinthesunsetafterglow."I'm a crusty, lonesome, crabbed old chap," he said aloud, "but there's

somethingaboutthatlittlegirlmakesmefeelyoungagain...andit'ssuchapleasantsensationI'dliketohaveitrepeatedonceinawhile.""Redheadedsnippet,"croakedGingermockingly.Mr.Harrisonshookhisfistattheparrot."Youornerybird,"hemuttered, "I almostwish I'dwrungyourneckwhen

mybrother thesailorbroughtyouhome.Willyouneverbedonegettingmeintotrouble?"Anne ranhomeblithelyand recountedheradventures toMarilla,whohad

beennotalittlealarmedbyherlongabsenceandwasonthepointofstartingouttolookforher."It'saprettygoodworld,afterall,isn'tit,Marilla?"concludedAnnehappily.

"Mrs.Lyndewas complaining the other day that itwasn'tmuchof aworld.Shesaidwheneveryoulookedforwardtoanythingpleasantyouweresuretobemoreorlessdisappointed...perhapsthatistrue.Butthereisagoodsidetoittoo.Thebadthingsdon'talwayscomeuptoyourexpectationseither...they nearly always turn out ever so much better than you think. I lookedforward to a dreadfully unpleasant experience when I went over to Mr.Harrison'stonight;andinsteadhewasquitekindandIhadalmostanicetime.Ithinkwe'regoingtoberealgoodfriendsifwemakeplentyofallowancesforeach other, and everything has turned out for the best. But all the same,Marilla,Ishallcertainlyneveragainsellacowbeforemakingsuretowhomshebelongs.AndIdoNOTlikeparrots!"

IVDifferentOpinions

One evening at sunset, Jane Andrews, Gilbert Blythe, and Anne Shirleywere lingering by a fence in the shadow of gently swaying spruce boughs,where awood cut known as theBirch Path joined themain road. Jane hadbeenuptospendtheafternoonwithAnne,whowalkedpartofthewayhomewithher;at thefencetheymetGilbert,andall threewerenowtalkingaboutthefatefulmorrow;forthatmorrowwasthefirstofSeptemberandtheschoolswouldopen.JanewouldgotoNewbridgeandGilberttoWhiteSands."Youbothhavetheadvantageofme,"sighedAnne."You'regoingtoteach

childrenwhodon't knowyou,but I have to teachmyownold schoolmates,and Mrs. Lynde says she's afraid they won't respect me as they would a

stranger unless I'm very cross from the first. But I don't believe a teachershouldbecross.Oh,itseemstomesucharesponsibility!""Iguesswe'llgetonallright,"saidJanecomfortably.Janewasnottroubled

byanyaspirations tobean influenceforgood.Shemeant toearnhersalaryfairly,please the trustees,andgethernameon theSchool Inspector's rollofhonor.FurtherambitionsJanehadnone."Themainthingwillbetokeeporderandateacherhastobealittlecrosstodothat.Ifmypupilswon'tdoasItellthemIshallpunishthem.""How?""Givethemagoodwhipping,ofcourse.""Oh,Jane,youwouldn't,"criedAnne,shocked."Jane,youCOULDN'T!""Indeed,Icouldandwould,iftheydeservedit,"saidJanedecidedly."I could NEVER whip a child," said Anne with equal decision. "I don't

believeinitATALL.MissStacyneverwhippedanyofusandshehadperfectorder;andMr.Phillipswasalwayswhippingandhehadnoorderatall.No,ifI can't get alongwithoutwhipping I shall not try to teach school.There arebetterwaysofmanaging.Ishalltrytowinmypupils'affectionsandthentheywillWANTtodowhatItellthem.""Butsupposetheydon't?"saidpracticalJane."Iwouldn'twhipthemanyhow.I'msureitwouldn'tdoanygood.Oh,don't

whipyourpupils,Janedear,nomatterwhattheydo.""What do you think about it, Gilbert?" demanded Jane. "Don't you think

therearesomechildrenwhoreallyneedawhippingnowandthen?""Don't you think it's a cruel, barbarous thing to whip a child . . . ANY

child?"exclaimedAnne,herfaceflushingwithearnestness."Well,"saidGilbertslowly,tornbetweenhisrealconvictionsandhiswishto

measureuptoAnne'sideal,"there'ssomethingtobesaidonbothsides.Idon'tbelieveinwhippingchildrenMUCH.Ithink,asyousay,Anne,thattherearebetterwaysofmanagingasarule,andthatcorporalpunishmentshouldbealastresort.Butontheotherhand,asJanesays,Ibelievethereisanoccasionalchild who can't be influenced in any other way andwho, in short, needs awhippingandwouldbeimprovedbyit.Corporalpunishmentasalastresortistobemyrule."Gilbert, having tried to please both sides, succeeded, as is usual and

eminentlyright,inpleasingneither.Janetossedherhead."I'llwhipmypupilswhenthey'renaughty.It's theshortestandeasiestway

ofconvincingthem."AnnegaveGilbertadisappointedglance."I shallneverwhipachild," she repeated firmly. "I feel sure it isn't either

rightornecessary."

"Supposeaboysaucedyoubackwhenyoutoldhimtodosomething?"saidJane."I'dkeephiminafterschoolandtalkkindlyandfirmlytohim,"saidAnne.

"Thereissomegoodineverypersonifyoucanfindit.Itisateacher'sdutytofindanddevelopit.ThatiswhatourSchoolManagementprofessoratQueen'stold us, you know.Do you suppose you could find any good in a child bywhippinghim?It'sfarmoreimportanttoinfluencethechildrenarightthanitiseventoteachthemthethreeR's,ProfessorRenniesays.""ButtheInspectorexaminestheminthethreeR's,mindyou,andhewon't

giveyouagoodreportiftheydon'tcomeuptohisstandard,"protestedJane."I'dratherhavemypupilslovemeandlookbacktomeinafteryearsasa

realhelperthanbeontherollofhonor,"assertedAnnedecidedly."Wouldn'tyoupunishchildrenatall,whentheymisbehaved?"askedGilbert."Oh,yes,IsupposeIshallhaveto,althoughIknowI'llhatetodoit.Butyou

cankeep them in at recess or stand themon the floor or give them lines towrite.""I supposeyouwon't punish thegirlsbymaking themsitwith theboys?"

saidJaneslyly.Gilbert and Anne looked at each other and smiled rather foolishly. Once

uponatime,AnnehadbeenmadetositwithGilbertforpunishmentandsadandbitterhadbeentheconsequencesthereof."Well,timewilltellwhichisthebestway,"saidJanephilosophicallyasthey

parted.AnnewentbacktoGreenGablesbywayofBirchPath,shadowy,rustling,

fern-scented,throughVioletValeandpastWillowmere,wheredarkandlightkissedeachotherunderthefirs,anddownthroughLover'sLane...spotssheandDianahadsonamedlongago.Shewalkedslowly,enjoyingthesweetnessofwoodandfieldandthestarrysummertwilight,andthinkingsoberlyaboutthenewdutiesshewastotakeuponthemorrow.WhenshereachedtheyardatGreenGablesMrs.Lynde'sloud,decidedtonesfloatedoutthroughtheopenkitchenwindow."Mrs.Lyndehascomeuptogivemegoodadviceabouttomorrow,"thought

Annewithagrimace,"but Idon'tbelieveI'llgo in.Heradvice ismuch likepepper, I think . . . excellent in small quantities but rather scorching in herdoses.I'llrunoverandhaveachatwithMr.Harrisoninstead."ThiswasnotthefirsttimeAnnehadrunoverandchattedwithMr.Harrison

sincethenotableaffairoftheJerseycow.ShehadbeenthereseveraleveningsandMr.Harrisonandshewereverygoodfriends,althoughthereweretimesandseasonswhenAnnefoundtheoutspokennessonwhichhepridedhimselfrather trying.Ginger still continued to regard herwith suspicion, and neverfailedtogreethersarcasticallyas"redheadedsnippet."Mr.Harrisonhadtried

vainly to break him of the habit by jumping excitedly upwhenever he sawAnnecomingandexclaiming,"Bless my soul, here's that pretty little girl again," or something equally

flattering.ButGingersawthroughtheschemeandscornedit.AnnewasnevertoknowhowmanycomplimentsMr.Harrisonpaidherbehindherback.Hecertainlyneverpaidheranytoherface."Well, I suppose you've been back in the woods laying in a supply of

switchesfortomorrow?"washisgreetingasAnnecameuptheverandasteps."No,indeed,"saidAnneindignantly.Shewasanexcellenttargetforteasing

becauseshealwaystookthingssoseriously."Ishallneverhaveaswitchinmyschool,Mr.Harrison.Ofcourse,Ishallhavetohaveapointer,butIshalluseitforpointingONLY.""Soyoumeantostraptheminstead?Well,Idon'tknowbutyou'reright.A

switchstingsmoreatthetimebutthestrapsmartslonger,that'safact.""Ishallnotuseanythingofthesort.I'mnotgoingtowhipmypupils.""Blessmysoul,"exclaimedMr.Harrisoningenuineastonishment,"howdo

youlayouttokeeporderthen?""Ishallgovernbyaffection,Mr.Harrison.""Itwon'tdo,"saidMr.Harrison,"won'tdoatall,Anne. 'Sparetherodand

spoilthechild.'WhenIwenttoschoolthemasterwhippedmeregulareverydaybecausehesaidifIwasn'tinmischiefjustthenIwasplottingit.""Methodshavechangedsinceyourschooldays,Mr.Harrison.""Buthumannaturehasn't.Markmywords,you'llnevermanagetheyoung

fryunlessyoukeeparodinpickleforthem.Thethingisimpossible.""Well,I'mgoingtotrymywayfirst,"saidAnne,whohadafairlystrongwill

ofherownandwasapttoclingverytenaciouslytohertheories."You're pretty stubborn, I reckon," was Mr. Harrison's way of putting it.

"Well,well,we'llsee.Somedaywhenyougetriledup...andpeoplewithhairlikeyoursaredesperateapt togetriled . . .you'll forgetallyourprettylittlenotions and give some of them awhaling.You're too young to be teachinganyhow...fartooyoungandchildish."Altogether,Annewent tobed thatnight in a ratherpessimisticmood.She

sleptpoorlyandwassopaleandtragicatbreakfastnextmorningthatMarillawas alarmedand insistedonmakingher take a cupof scorchingginger tea.Annesippeditpatiently,althoughshecouldnotimaginewhatgoodgingerteawoulddo.Haditbeensomemagicbrew,potenttoconferageandexperience,Annewouldhaveswallowedaquartofitwithoutflinching."Marilla,whatifIfail!""You'll hardly fail completely in one day and there's plenty more days

coming," saidMarilla. "The troublewith you,Anne, is that you'll expect to

teachthosechildreneverythingandreformalltheirfaultsrightoff,andifyoucan'tyou'llthinkyou'vefailed."

VAFull-fledgedSchoolma'am

WhenAnnereachedtheschoolthatmorning...forthefirsttimeinherlifeshehadtraversedtheBirchPathdeafandblindtoitsbeauties...allwasquietandstill.Theprecedingteacherhadtrainedthechildrentobeintheirplacesather arrival, and whenAnne entered the schoolroom she was confronted byprimrowsof"shiningmorning faces"andbright, inquisitiveeyes.Shehungupherhatandfacedherpupils,hopingthatshedidnotlookasfrightenedandfoolishasshefeltandthattheywouldnotperceivehowshewastrembling.Shehadsatupuntilnearlytwelvetheprecedingnightcomposingaspeech

shemeanttomaketoherpupilsuponopeningtheschool.Shehadrevisedandimproved it painstakingly, and then shehad learned it off byheart. Itwas averygoodspeechandhadsomeveryfineideasinit,especiallyaboutmutualhelpandearneststrivingafterknowledge.Theonlytroublewasthatshecouldnotnowrememberawordofit.Afterwhatseemedtoherayear...abouttensecondsinreality...shesaid

faintly, "Take yourTestaments, please," and sank breathlessly into her chairunder cover of the rustle and clatter of desk lids that followed. While thechildren read their verses Anne marshalled her shaky wits into order andlookedoverthearrayoflittlepilgrimstotheGrownupLand.Mostofthemwere,ofcourse,quitewellknowntoher.Herownclassmates

hadpassedoutintheprecedingyearbuttheresthadallgonetoschoolwithher,exceptingtheprimerclassandtennewcomerstoAvonlea.Annesecretlyfeltmore interest in these ten than in thosewhosepossibilitieswerealreadyfairlywellmappedouttoher.Tobesure,theymightbejustascommonplaceas the rest;buton theotherhand thereMIGHTbeageniusamong them. Itwasathrillingidea.SittingbyhimselfatacornerdeskwasAnthonyPye.Hehadadark,sullen

littleface,andwasstaringatAnnewithahostileexpressioninhisblackeyes.Anneinstantlymadeuphermindthatshewouldwinthatboy'saffectionanddiscomfitthePyesutterly.In theother corner another strangeboywas sittingwithArtySloane. . . a

jolly looking little chap,with a snubnose, freckled face, andbig, lightblueeyes, fringed with whitish lashes . . . probably the DonNELL boy; and ifresemblance went for anything, his sister was sitting across the aisle with

MaryBell.Annewonderedwhatsortofmotherthechildhad,tosendhertoschooldressedasshewas.Sheworeafadedpinksilkdress, trimmedwithagreat deal of cotton lace, soiled white kid slippers, and silk stockings. Hersandy hair was tortured into innumerable kinky and unnatural curls,surmountedbyaflamboyantbowofpinkribbonbiggerthanherhead.Judgingfromherexpressionshewasverywellsatisfiedwithherself.A pale little thing, with smooth ripples of fine, silky, fawn-colored hair

flowing over her shoulders, must, Anne thought, be Annetta Bell, whoseparentshadformerlylivedintheNewbridgeschooldistrict,but,byreasonofhaulingtheirhousefiftyyardsnorthofitsoldsitewerenowinAvonlea.ThreepallidlittlegirlscrowdedintooneseatwerecertainlyCottons;andtherewasnodoubtthatthesmallbeautywiththelongbrowncurlsandhazeleyes,whowascastingcoquettishlooksatJackGillsovertheedgeofherTestament,wasPrillieRogerson,whosefatherhadrecentlymarriedasecondwifeandbroughtPrilliehomefromhergrandmother'sinGrafton.Atall,awkwardgirlinabackseat,whoseemedtohave toomanyfeetandhands,Annecouldnotplaceatall,butlaterondiscoveredthathernamewasBarbaraShawandthatshehadcometolivewithanAvonleaaunt.Shewasalsotofindthat ifBarbaraevermanaged towalk down the aislewithout falling over her ownor somebodyelse'sfeettheAvonleascholarswrotetheunusualfactupontheporchwalltocommemorateit.ButwhenAnne'seyesmetthoseoftheboyatthefrontdeskfacingherown,

aqueerlittlethrillwentoverher,asifshehadfoundhergenius.SheknewthismustbePaulIrvingandthatMrs.RachelLyndehadbeenrightforoncewhensheprophesiedthathewouldbeunliketheAvonleachildren.Morethanthat,Annerealizedthathewasunlikeotherchildrenanywhere,andthattherewasasoulsubtlyakintoherowngazingatheroutof theverydarkblueeyesthatwerewatchinghersointently.SheknewPaulwastenbuthelookednomorethaneight.Hehadthemost

beautiful little face she had ever seen in a child . . . features of exquisitedelicacy and refinement, framed in a halo of chestnut curls.Hismouthwasdelicious,beingfullwithoutpouting,thecrimsonlipsjustsoftlytouchingandcurvingintofinelyfinishedlittlecornersthatnarrowlyescapedbeingdimpled.Hehadasober,grave,meditativeexpression,as ifhisspiritwasmucholderthan his body; butwhenAnne smiled softly at him it vanished in a suddenansweringsmile,whichseemedanilluminationofhiswholebeing,asifsomelamphadsuddenlykindledintoflameinsideofhim,irradiatinghimfromtoptotoe.Bestofall,itwasinvoluntary,bornofnoexternaleffortormotive,butsimplytheoutflashingofahiddenpersonality,rareandfineandsweet.WithaquickinterchangeofsmilesAnneandPaulwerefastfriendsforeverbeforeawordhadpassedbetweenthem.Thedaywentbylikeadream.Annecouldneverclearlyrecallitafterwards.

Italmostseemedas if itwerenotshewhowas teachingbutsomebodyelse.Sheheardclassesandworkedsumsandsetcopiesmechanically.Thechildrenbehaved quitewell; only two cases of discipline occurred.MorleyAndrewswascaughtdrivingapairof trainedcricketsintheaisle.AnnestoodMorleyontheplatformforanhourand...whichMorleyfeltmuchmorekeenly...confiscatedhiscrickets.SheputtheminaboxandonthewayfromschoolsetthemfreeinVioletVale;butMorleybelieved, thenandeverafterwards, thatshetookthemhomeandkeptthemforherownamusement.TheotherculpritwasAnthonyPye,whopouredthelastdropsofwaterfrom

hisslatebottledownthebackofAureliaClay'sneck.AnnekeptAnthonyinatrecessandtalkedtohimaboutwhatwasexpectedofgentlemen,admonishinghimthattheyneverpouredwaterdownladies'necks.Shewantedallherboystobegentlemen,shesaid.Herlittlelecturewasquitekindandtouching;butunfortunatelyAnthony remained absolutelyuntouched.He listened toher insilence,with the samesullenexpression, andwhistled scornfullyashewentout.Annesighed;andthencheeredherselfupbyrememberingthatwinningaPye'saffections,likethebuildingofRome,wasn'ttheworkofaday.Infact,itwasdoubtfulwhethersomeof thePyeshadanyaffections towin;butAnnehopedbetterthingsofAnthony,wholookedasifhemightbearatherniceboyifoneevergotbehindhissullenness.When school was dismissed and the children had gone Anne dropped

wearily into her chair. Her head ached and she felt woefully discouraged.Therewasnorealreasonfordiscouragement,sincenothingverydreadfulhadoccurred;butAnnewasverytiredandinclinedtobelievethatshewouldneverlearntoliketeaching.Andhowterribleitwouldbetobedoingsomethingyoudidn't like every day for . . .well, say forty years.Annewas of twomindswhether tohavehercryout thenandthere,orwait tillshewassafelyinherownwhiteroomathome.Beforeshecoulddecidetherewasaclickofheelsandasilkenswishontheporchfloor,andAnnefoundherselfconfrontedbyaladywhoseappearancemadeherrecallarecentcriticismofMr.Harrison'sonanoverdressedfemalehehadseeninaCharlottetownstore."Shelookedlikeahead-oncollisionbetweenafashionplateandanightmare."Thenewcomerwasgorgeouslyarrayedinapalebluesummersilk,puffed,

frilled, and shirredwhereverpuff, frill,or shirringcouldpossiblybeplaced.Herheadwas surmountedbyahugewhite chiffonhat, bedeckedwith threelong but rather stringy ostrich feathers. A veil of pink chiffon, lavishlysprinkledwithhugeblackdots,hunglikeaflouncefromthehatbrimtohershoulders and floatedoff in twoairy streamersbehindher.Shewore all thejewelrythatcouldbecrowdedononesmallwoman,andaverystrongodorofperfumeattendedher."I amMrs.DonNELL . . .Mrs.H.B.DonNELL," announced thisvision,

"andIhavecomeintoseeyouaboutsomethingClariceAlmiratoldmewhen

shecamehometodinnertoday.ItannoyedmeEXCESSIVELY.""I'm sorry," faltered Anne, vainly trying to recollect any incident of the

morningconnectedwiththeDonnellchildren."Clarice Almira told me that you pronounced our name DONnell. Now,

MissShirley,thecorrectpronunciationofournameisDonNELL...accentonthelastsyllable.Ihopeyou'llrememberthisinfuture.""I'll tryto,"gaspedAnne,chokingbackawilddesiretolaugh."Iknowby

experiencethatit'sveryunpleasanttohaveone'snameSPELLEDwrongandIsupposeitmustbeevenworsetohaveitpronouncedwrong.""Certainlyitis.AndClariceAlmiraalsoinformedmethatyoucallmyson

Jacob.""HetoldmehisnamewasJacob,"protestedAnne."Imightwellhaveexpectedthat,"saidMrs.H.B.Donnell,inatonewhich

impliedthatgratitudeinchildrenwasnot tobelookedfor in thisdegenerateage. "That boy has such plebeian tastes,Miss Shirley.When hewas born IwantedtocallhimSt.Clair . . . itsoundsSOaristocratic,doesn't it?Buthisfather insisted he should be called Jacob after his uncle. I yielded, becauseUncle Jacobwasa richoldbachelor.Andwhatdoyou think,MissShirley?WhenourinnocentboywasfiveyearsoldUncleJacobactuallywentandgotmarried and now he has three boys of his own.Did you ever hear of suchingratitude? The moment the invitation to the wedding . . . for he had theimpertinence to sendus an invitation,MissShirley . . . came to thehouse Isaid, 'NomoreJacobsforme, thankyou.'FromthatdayIcalledmysonSt.ClairandSt.Clair Iamdeterminedheshallbecalled.HisfatherobstinatelycontinuestocallhimJacob,andtheboyhimselfhasaperfectlyunaccountablepreference for the vulgar name. But St. Clair he is and St. Clair he shallremain.Youwillkindlyremember this,MissShirley,willyounot?THANKyou.ItoldClariceAlmirathatIwassureitwasonlyamisunderstandingandthatawordwouldsetitright.Donnell...accentonthelastsyllable...andSt.Clair...onnoaccountJacob.You'llremember?THANKyou."WhenMrs. H. B. DonNELL had skimmed awayAnne locked the school

doorandwenthome.AtthefootofthehillshefoundPaulIrvingbytheBirchPath. He held out to her a cluster of the dainty little wild orchids whichAvonleachildrencalled"ricelillies.""Please, teacher, I found these inMr.Wright's field,"hesaidshyly,"andI

cameback togive themtoyoubecauseI thoughtyouwere thekindof ladythatwouldlikethem,andbecause..."heliftedhisbigbeautifuleyes..."Ilikeyou,teacher.""Youdarling,"saidAnne,takingthefragrantspikes.AsifPaul'swordshad

beena spellofmagic,discouragementandwearinesspassed fromher spirit,andhopeupwelledinherheartlikeadancingfountain.Shewentthroughthe

Birch Path light-footedly, attended by the sweetness of her orchids as by abenediction."Well,howdidyougetalong?"Marillawantedtoknow."AskmethatamonthlaterandImaybeabletotellyou.Ican'tnow...I

don'tknowmyself...I'mtoonearit.Mythoughtsfeelasiftheyhadbeenallstirredupuntiltheywerethickandmuddy.TheonlythingIfeelreallysureofhavingaccomplishedtodayisthatItaughtCliffieWrightthatAisA.Heneverknewitbefore.Isn'titsomethingtohavestartedasoulalongapaththatmayendinShakespeareandParadiseLost?"Mrs.Lyndecameuplateronwithmoreencouragement.Thatgoodladyhad

waylaidtheschoolchildrenathergateanddemandedofthemhowtheylikedtheirnewteacher."Andeveryoneofthemsaidtheylikedyousplendid,Anne,exceptAnthony

Pye. Imust admithedidn't.He saidyou 'weren't anygood, just likeallgirlteachers.'There'sthePyeleavenforyou.Butnevermind.""I'mnotgoingtomind,"saidAnnequietly,"andI'mgoingtomakeAnthony

Pyelikemeyet.Patienceandkindnesswillsurelywinhim.""Well,youcannevertellaboutaPye,"saidMrs.Rachelcautiously."They

go by contraries, like dreams, often as not. As for that DonNELL woman,she'llgetnoDonNELLingfromme,Icanassureyou.ThenameisDONnellandalwayshasbeen.Thewomaniscrazy,that'swhat.ShehasapugdogshecallsQueenieandithasitsmealsatthetablealongwiththefamily,eatingoffachinaplate. I'dbeafraidofa judgment if Iwasher.ThomassaysDonnellhimself isasensible,hard-workingman,buthehadn'tmuchgumptionwhenhepickedoutawife,that'swhat."

VIAllSortsandConditionsofMen...

andwomen

ASeptember day on PrinceEdward Island hills; a crispwind blowing upoverthesanddunesfromthesea;alongredroad,windingthroughfieldsandwoods,nowloopingitselfaboutacornerofthicksetspruces,nowthreadingaplantationofyoungmapleswithgreatfeatherysheetsoffernsbeneaththem,nowdippingdownintoahollowwhereabrookflashedoutofthewoodsandintothemagain,nowbaskinginopensunshinebetweenribbonsofgolden-rodandsmoke-blueasters;airathrillwiththepipingsofmyriadsofcrickets,thosegladlittlepensionersofthesummerhills;aplumpbrownponyamblingalongtheroad;twogirlsbehindhim,fulltothelipswiththesimple,pricelessjoyof

youthandlife."Oh,thisisadayleftoverfromEden,isn'tit,Diana?"...andAnnesighed

forsheerhappiness."Theairhasmagicinit.Lookatthepurpleinthecupoftheharvestvalley,Diana.Andoh,dosmellthedyingfir!It'scomingupfromthatlittlesunnyhollowwhereMr.EbenWrighthasbeencuttingfencepoles.Bliss is it on such a day to be alive; but to smell dying fir is very heaven.That's two thirds Wordsworth and one third Anne Shirley. It doesn't seempossible that thereshouldbedying fir inheaven,does it?Andyet itdoesn'tseemtomethatheavenwouldbequiteperfectifyoucouldn'tgetawhiffofdead fir as you went through its woods. Perhaps we'll have the odor therewithoutthedeath.Yes,Ithinkthatwillbetheway.Thatdeliciousaromamustbethesoulsofthefirs...andofcourseitwillbejustsoulsinheaven.""Trees haven't souls," said practical Diana, "but the smell of dead fir is

certainlylovely.I'mgoingtomakeacushionandfillitwithfirneedles.You'dbettermakeonetoo,Anne.""I thinkIshall . . .anduseit formynaps.I'dbecertain todreamIwasa

dryadorawoodnymphthen.ButjustthisminuteI'mwellcontenttobeAnneShirley,Avonleaschoolma'am,drivingoveraroadlikethisonsuchasweet,friendlyday.""It'salovelydaybutwehaveanythingbutalovelytaskbeforeus,"sighed

Diana."Whyonearthdidyouoffertocanvassthisroad,Anne?Almostallthecranks inAvonlea live along it, andwe'll probablybe treated as ifwewerebeggingforourselves.It'stheveryworstroadofall.""That iswhyIchose it.OfcourseGilbertandFredwouldhave taken this

roadifwehadaskedthem.Butyousee,Diana,IfeelmyselfresponsiblefortheA.V.I.S.,sinceIwasthefirsttosuggestit,anditseemstomethatIoughttodothemostdisagreeablethings.I'msorryonyouraccount;butyouneedn'tsayawordatthecrankyplaces.I'lldoallthetalking. . .Mrs.Lyndewouldsay Iwaswell able to.Mrs.Lyndedoesn't knowwhether to approveofourenterpriseornot.Sheinclinesto,whensheremembersthatMr.andMrs.Allanare in favor of it; but the fact that village improvement societies firstoriginated in the States is a count against it. So she is halting between twoopinions and only success will justify us in Mrs. Lynde's eyes. Priscilla isgoingtowriteapaperforournextImprovementmeeting,andIexpectitwillbegood,forherauntissuchacleverwriterandnodoubtitrunsinthefamily.IshallneverforgetthethrillitgavemewhenIfoundoutthatMrs.CharlotteE.MorganwasPriscilla'saunt.ItseemedsowonderfulthatIwasafriendofthegirlwhoseauntwrote'EdgewoodDays'and'TheRosebudGarden.'""WheredoesMrs.Morganlive?""InToronto.AndPriscillasaysshe iscoming to the Islandforavisitnext

summer,andifitispossiblePriscillaisgoingtoarrangetohaveusmeether.

Thatseemsalmosttoogoodtobetrue—butit'ssomethingpleasanttoimagineafteryougotobed."TheAvonleaVillage Improvement Societywas an organized fact. Gilbert

Blythewaspresident,FredWrightvice-president,AnneShirleysecretary,andDiana Barry treasurer. The "Improvers," as they were promptly christened,were tomeetoncea fortnightat thehomesof themembers. Itwasadmittedthattheycouldnotexpecttoaffectmanyimprovementssolateintheseason;buttheymeanttoplanthenextsummer'scampaign,collectanddiscussideas,write and read papers, and, as Anne said, educate the public sentimentgenerally.Therewas somedisapproval, of course, and . . .which the Improvers felt

muchmorekeenly...agooddealofridicule.Mr.ElishaWrightwasreportedto have said that a more appropriate name for the organization would beCourting Club. Mrs. Hiram Sloane declared she had heard the Improversmeant to plough up all the roadsides and set them outwith geraniums.Mr.Levi Boulter warned his neighbors that the Improvers would insist thateverybody pull down his house and rebuild it after plans approved by thesociety.Mr.JamesSpencersentthemwordthathewishedtheywouldkindlyshovel down the church hill. Eben Wright told Anne that he wished theImproverscouldinduceoldJosiahSloanetokeephiswhiskerstrimmed.Mr.LawrenceBellsaidhewouldwhitewashhisbarnsifnothingelsewouldpleasethem but hewouldNOT hang lace curtains in the cowstablewindows.Mr.MajorSpenceraskedCliftonSloane,anImproverwhodrovethemilkto theCarmodycheesefactory,ifitwastruethateverybodywouldhavetohavehismilk-standhand-paintednextsummerandkeepanembroideredcenterpieceonit.Inspiteof...orperhaps,humannaturebeingwhatitis,becauseof...this,

theSocietywentgamelytoworkattheonlyimprovementtheycouldhopetobringaboutthatfall.Atthesecondmeeting,intheBarryparlor,OliverSloanemovedthattheystartasubscriptiontore-shingleandpaintthehall;JuliaBellsecondedit,withanuneasyfeelingthatshewasdoingsomethingnotexactlyladylike.Gilbertputthemotion,itwascarriedunanimously,andAnnegravelyrecorded it in herminutes. The next thingwas to appoint a committee, andGertie Pye, determined not to let Julia Bell carry off all the laurels, boldlymoved thatMissJaneAndrewsbechairmanofsaidcommittee.Thismotionbeing also duly seconded and carried, Jane returned the compliment byappointing Gertie on the committee, along with Gilbert, Anne, Diana, andFredWright.Thecommitteechosetheirroutesinprivateconclave.AnneandDianawere toldoff for theNewbridge road,Gilbert andFred for theWhiteSandsroad,andJaneandGertiefortheCarmodyroad."Because," explained Gilbert to Anne, as they walked home together

throughtheHauntedWood,"thePyesall livealongthatroadandtheywon't

giveacentunlessoneofthemselvescanvassesthem."ThenextSaturdayAnneandDianastartedout.Theydrovetotheendofthe

roadandcanvassedhomeward,callingfirstonthe"Andrewgirls.""IfCatherine is alonewemayget something," saidDiana, "but ifEliza is

therewewon't."Elizawasthere...verymuchso...andlookedevengrimmerthanusual.

MissElizawasoneof thosepeoplewhogiveyou the impression that life isindeedavaleoftears,andthatasmile,nevertospeakofalaugh,isawasteofnervousenergytrulyreprehensible.TheAndrewgirlshadbeen"girls"forfiftyodd years and seemed likely to remain girls to the end of their earthlypilgrimage.Catherine, itwassaid,hadnotentirelygivenuphope,butEliza,whowas born a pessimist, had never had any. They lived in a little brownhouse built in a sunny corner scooped out ofMarkAndrew's beechwoods.Elizacomplainedthatitwasterriblehotinsummer,butCatherinewaswonttosayitwaslovelyandwarminwinter.Eliza was sewing patchwork, not because it was needed but simply as a

protestagainstthefrivolouslaceCatherinewascrocheting.ElizalistenedwithafrownandCatherinewithasmile,asthegirlsexplainedtheirerrand.Tobesure,wheneverCatherinecaughtEliza'seyeshediscardedthesmileinguiltyconfusion;butitcreptbackthenextmoment."IfIhadmoneytowaste,"saidElizagrimly,"I'dburnitupandhavethefun

ofseeingablazemaybe;butIwouldn'tgiveittothathall,notacent.It'snobenefittothesettlement...justaplaceforyoungfolkstomeetandcarryonwhenthey'sbetterbehomeintheirbeds.""Oh,Eliza,youngfolksmusthavesomeamusement,"protestedCatherine."Idon'tseethenecessity.Wedidn'tgadabouttohallsandplaceswhenwe

wereyoung,CatherineAndrews.Thisworldisgettingworseeveryday.""Ithinkit'sgettingbetter,"saidCatherinefirmly."YOUthink!"MissEliza'svoiceexpressedtheutmostcontempt."Itdoesn't

signifywhatyouTHINK,CatherineAndrews.Factsisfacts.""Well,Ialwaysliketolookonthebrightside,Eliza.""Thereisn'tanybrightside.""Oh, indeed there is," cried Anne, who couldn't endure such heresy in

silence."Why,thereareeversomanybrightsides,MissAndrews.It'sreallyabeautifulworld.""Youwon'thavesuchahighopinionofitwhenyou'velivedaslonginitasI

have," retorted Miss Eliza sourly, "and you won't be so enthusiastic aboutimprovingiteither.Howisyourmother,Diana?Dearme,butshehasfailedoflate.Shelooksterriblerundown.AndhowlongisitbeforeMarillaexpectstobestoneblind,Anne?"

"Thedoctor thinkshereyeswillnotgetanyworse if she isverycareful,"falteredAnne.Elizashookherhead."Doctors always talk like that just to keep people cheered up. I wouldn't

havemuchhopeifIwasher.It'sbesttobepreparedfortheworst.""Butoughtn'twebepreparedfor thebest too?"pleadedAnne."It's justas

likelytohappenastheworst.""Not in my experience, and I've fifty-seven years to set against your

sixteen," retorted Eliza. "Going, are you?Well, I hope this new society ofyourswillbeable tokeepAvonleafromrunninganyfurtherdownhillbut Ihaven'tmuchhopeofit."AnneandDianagotthemselvesthankfullyout,anddroveawayasfastasthe

fatponycouldgo.AstheyroundedthecurvebelowthebeechwoodaplumpfigurecamespeedingoverMr.Andrews'pasture,wavingtothemexcitedly.ItwasCatherineAndrews and shewas so out of breath that she could hardlyspeak,butshethrustacoupleofquartersintoAnne'shand."That'smy contribution to painting the hall," she gasped. "I'd like to give

youadollarbut Idon'tdare takemorefrommyeggmoneyforElizawouldfinditoutifIdid.I'mrealinterestedinyoursocietyandIbelieveyou'regoingtodoa lotofgood.I'manoptimist. IHAVEtobe, livingwithEliza.Imusthurrybackbeforeshemissesme. . .shethinksI'mfeedingthehens.Ihopeyou'llhavegoodluckcanvassing,anddon'tbecastdownoverwhatElizasaid.TheworldISgettingbetter...itcertainlyis."ThenexthousewasDanielBlair's."Now,italldependsonwhetherhiswifeishomeornot,"saidDiana,asthey

joltedalongadeep-ruttedlane."Ifsheiswewon'tgetacent.EverybodysaysDanBlairdoesn'tdarehavehishaircutwithoutaskingherpermission;andit'scertain she's very close, to state it moderately. She says she has to be justbefore she's generous. But Mrs. Lynde says she's so much 'before' thatgenerositynevercatchesupwithheratall."AnnerelatedtheirexperienceattheBlairplacetoMarillathatevening."Wetiedthehorseandthenrappedatthekitchendoor.Nobodycamebutthe

doorwasopenandwecouldhearsomebodyinthepantry,goingondreadfully.Wecouldn'tmakeoutthewordsbutDianasayssheknowstheywereswearingbythesoundofthem.Ican'tbelievethatofMr.Blair,forheisalwayssoquietandmeek;butat leasthehadgreatprovocation, forMarilla,when thatpoorman came to the door, red as a beet, with perspiration streaming down hisface,hehadononeofhiswife'sbigginghamaprons. 'Ican'tgetthisdurnedthingoff,'hesaid,'forthestringsaretiedinahardknotandIcan'tbust'em,soyou'llhavetoexcuseme,ladies.'Webeggedhimnottomentionitandwentinandsatdown.Mr.Blairsatdowntoo;hetwistedtheapronaroundtohisback

androlleditup,buthedidlooksoashamedandworriedthatIfeltsorryforhim,andDianasaidshefearedwehadcalledataninconvenienttime.'Oh,notatall,'saidMr.Blair,tryingtosmile...youknowheisalwaysverypolite...'I'ma littlebusy . . .getting ready tobakeacakeas itwere.MywifegotatelegramtodaythathersisterfromMontrealiscomingtonightandshe'sgonetothetraintomeetherandleftordersformetomakeacakefortea.ShewritouttherecipeandtoldmewhattodobutI'vecleanforgothalfthedirectionsalready.And it says, 'flavor according to taste.'What does thatmean?Howcanyoutell?Andwhatifmytastedoesn'thappentobeotherpeople'staste?Wouldatablespoonofvanillabeenoughforasmalllayercake?""Ifeltsorrierthaneverforthepoorman.Hedidn'tseemtobeinhisproper

sphereatall.IhadheardofhenpeckedhusbandsandnowIfeltthatIsawone.Itwasonmylipstosay,'Mr.Blair,ifyou'llgiveusasubscriptionforthehallI'll mix up your cake for you.' But I suddenly thought it wouldn't beneighborlytodrivetoosharpabargainwithafellowcreatureindistress.SoIofferedtomixthecakeforhimwithoutanyconditionsatall.Hejustjumpedatmyoffer.Hesaidhe'dbeenused tomakinghisownbreadbeforehewasmarriedbuthefearedcakewasbeyondhim,andyethehatedtodisappointhiswife.Hegotmeanotherapron,andDianabeattheeggsandImixedthecake.Mr.Blair ran about andgot us thematerials.Hehad forgotten all about hisapronandwhenheranitstreamedoutbehindhimandDianasaidshethoughtshewoulddie tosee it.Hesaidhecouldbake thecakeall right . . .hewasusedtothat...andthenheaskedforourlistandheputdownfourdollars.Soyouseewewererewarded.Butevenifhehadn'tgivenacentI'dalwaysfeelthatwehaddoneatrulyChristianactinhelpinghim."TheodoreWhite'swasthenextstoppingplace.NeitherAnnenorDianahad

everbeentherebefore,andtheyhadonlyaveryslightacquaintancewithMrs.Theodore, whowas not given to hospitality. Should they go to the back orfrontdoor?WhiletheyheldawhisperedconsultationMrs.Theodoreappearedat the front door with an armful of newspapers. Deliberately she laid themdownonebyoneon theporchfloorand theporchsteps,and thendownthepathtotheveryfeetofhermystifiedcallers."Will you please wipe your feet carefully on the grass and then walk on

these papers?" she said anxiously. "I've just swept the house all over and Ican'thaveanymoredusttrackedin.Thepath'sbeenrealmuddysincetherainyesterday.""Don'tyoudare laugh,"warnedAnneinawhisper,as theymarchedalong

thenewspapers."AndIimploreyou,Diana,nottolookatme,nomatterwhatshesays,orIshallnotbeabletokeepasoberface."Thepapersextendedacrossthehallandintoaprim,flecklessparlor.Anne

andDianasatdowngingerlyonthenearestchairsandexplainedtheirerrand.Mrs.Whiteheardthempolitely,interruptingonlytwice,oncetochaseoutan

adventurousfly,andoncetopickupatinywispofgrassthathadfallenonthecarpet from Anne's dress. Anne felt wretchedly guilty; but Mrs. Whitesubscribed two dollars and paid the money down . . . "to prevent us fromhavingtogobackforit,"Dianasaidwhentheygotaway.Mrs.Whitehadthenewspapersgatheredupbeforetheyhadtheirhorseuntiedandastheydroveoutoftheyardtheysawherbusilywieldingabroominthehall."I'vealwaysheard thatMrs.TheodoreWhitewas theneatestwomanalive

andI'llbelieveitafterthis,"saidDiana,givingwaytohersuppressedlaughterassoonasitwassafe."Iamgladshehasnochildren,"saidAnnesolemnly."Itwouldbedreadful

beyondwordsforthemifshehad."At the Spencers' Mrs. Isabella Spencer made them miserable by saying

somethingill-naturedabouteveryoneinAvonlea.Mr.ThomasBoulterrefusedtogiveanythingbecausethehall,whenithadbeenbuilt,twentyyearsbefore,hadn'tbeenbuiltonthesiteherecommended.Mrs.EstherBell,whowasthepictureofhealth,tookhalfanhourtodetailallherachesandpains,andsadlyputdownfiftycentsbecauseshewouldn'tbetherethattimenextyeartodoit...no,shewouldbeinhergrave.Theirworstreception,however,wasatSimonFletcher's.Whentheydrove

intotheyardtheysawtwofacespeeringat themthroughtheporchwindow.Butalthoughtheyrappedandwaitedpatientlyandpersistentlynobodycametothedoor.TwodecidedlyruffledandindignantgirlsdroveawayfromSimonFletcher's. EvenAnne admitted that shewas beginning to feel discouraged.But the tide turned after that. Several Sloane homesteads came next,wheretheygot liberal subscriptions,and from that to theend they faredwell,withonlyanoccasional snub.Their lastplaceofcallwasatRobertDickson'sbythe pond bridge. They stayed to tea here, although theywere nearly home,rather than risk offendingMrs.Dickson,who had the reputation of being avery"touchy"woman.WhiletheywerethereoldMrs.JamesWhitecalledin."I'vejustbeendowntoLorenzo's,"sheannounced."He'stheproudestman

inAvonleathisminute.Whatdoyouthink?There'sabrandnewboythere...andaftersevengirlsthat'squiteanevent,Icantellyou."Anneprickedupherears,andwhentheydroveawayshesaid."I'mgoingstraighttoLorenzoWhite's.""Buthe liveson theWhiteSands roadand it's quite adistanceoutofour

way,"protestedDiana."GilbertandFredwillcanvasshim.""They are not going around until next Saturday and itwill be too late by

then," said Anne firmly. "The novelty will be worn off. Lorenzo White isdreadfullymeanbuthewillsubscribetoANYTHINGjustnow.Wemustn'tletsuchagoldenopportunity slip,Diana."The result justifiedAnne's foresight.

Mr.Whitemet them in the yard, beaming like the sun upon an Easter day.WhenAnneaskedforasubscriptionheagreedenthusiastically."Certain, certain. Just put me down for a dollar more than the highest

subscriptionyou'vegot.""Thatwillbefivedollars . . .Mr.DanielBlairputdownfour,"saidAnne,

halfafraid.ButLorenzodidnotflinch."Fiveitis. . .andhere'sthemoneyonthespot.Now,Iwantyoutocome

into thehouse.There's something in thereworth seeing . . . somethingveryfewpeoplehaveseenasyet.JustcomeinandpassYOURopinion.""Whatwillwesayifthebabyisn'tpretty?"whisperedDianaintrepidation

astheyfollowedtheexcitedLorenzointothehouse."Oh,therewillcertainlybesomethingelsenicetosayaboutit,"saidAnne

easily."Therealwaysisaboutababy."The baby WAS pretty, however, and Mr. White felt that he got his five

dollars'worthofthegirls'honestdelightovertheplumplittlenewcomer.Butthatwas the first, last, andonly time thatLorenzoWhite ever subscribed toanything.Anne,tiredasshewas,madeonemoreeffortforthepublicwealthatnight,

slippingoverthefieldstointerviewMr.Harrison,whowasasusualsmokinghispipeontheverandawithGingerbesidehim.StricklyspeakinghewasontheCarmody road; but Jane andGertie,whowere not acquaintedwith himsavebydoubtfulreport,hadnervouslybeggedAnnetocanvasshim.Mr. Harrison, however, flatly refused to subscribe a cent, and all Anne's

wileswereinvain."ButIthoughtyouapprovedofoursociety,Mr.Harrison,"shemourned."SoIdo...soIdo...butmyapprovaldoesn'tgoasdeepasmypocket,

Anne.""AfewmoreexperiencessuchasIhavehadtodaywouldmakemeasmuch

of a pessimist asMiss ElizaAndrews,"Anne told her reflection in the eastgablemirroratbedtime.

VIIThePointingofDuty

Anne leaned back in her chair onemildOctober evening and sighed. Shewas sitting at a table coveredwith text books and exercises, but the closelywrittensheetsofpaperbeforeherhadnoapparentconnectionwithstudiesorschoolwork.

"What is thematter?" askedGilbert,who had arrived at the open kitchendoorjustintimetohearthesigh.Anne colored, and thrust her writing out of sight under some school

compositions."Nothingverydreadful.Iwasjusttryingtowriteoutsomeofmythoughts,

asProfessorHamiltonadvisedme,butIcouldn'tgetthemtopleaseme.Theyseem so still and foolish directly they're written down onwhite paper withblack ink. Fancies are like shadows . . . you can't cage them, they're suchwayward,dancingthings.ButperhapsI'lllearnthesecretsomedayifIkeepon trying. I haven't a greatmany sparemoments, you know. By the time Ifinish correcting school exercises and compositions, I don't always feel likewritinganyofmyown.""Youaregettingonsplendidlyinschool,Anne.All thechildrenlikeyou,"

saidGilbert,sittingdownonthestonestep."No,notall.AnthonyPyedoesn'tandWON'T likeme.What isworse,he

doesn'trespectme...no,hedoesn't.HesimplyholdsmeincontemptandIdon'tmindconfessingtoyouthatitworriesmemiserably.Itisn'tthatheissovery bad . . . he is only rathermischievous, but noworse than someof theothers.Heseldomdisobeysme;butheobeyswithascornfulairoftolerationasifitwasn'tworthwhiledisputingthepointorhewould...andithasabadeffectontheothers.I'vetriedeverywaytowinhimbutI'mbeginningtofearInevershall.Iwantto,forhe'sratheracutelittlelad,ifheISaPye,andIcouldlikehimifhe'dletme.""Probablyit'smerelytheeffectofwhathehearsathome.""Notaltogether.Anthonyisanindependentlittlechapandmakesuphisown

mindaboutthings.Hehasalwaysgonetomenbeforeandhesaysgirlteachersare no good. Well, we'll see what patience and kindness will do. I likeovercoming difficulties and teaching is really very interesting work. PaulIrvingmakes up for all that is lacking in the others. That child is a perfectdarling,Gilbert, and agenius into thebargain. I'mpersuaded theworldwillhearofhimsomeday,"concludedAnneinatoneofconviction."I like teaching, too," saidGilbert. "It'sgood training, forone thing.Why,

Anne, I've learnedmore in theweeks I'vebeen teaching theyoung ideasofWhiteSands than I learned in all the years Iwent to schoolmyself.We allseemtobegettingonprettywell.TheNewbridgepeoplelikeJane,Ihear;andI thinkWhite Sands is tolerably satisfiedwith your humble servant . . . allexceptMr.AndrewSpencer. ImetMrs.PeterBlewettonmywayhomelastnightandshetoldmeshethought itherdutytoinformmethatMr.Spencerdidn'tapproveofmymethods.""Haveyouevernoticed,"askedAnnereflectively,"thatwhenpeoplesayit

is their duty to tell you a certain thing you may prepare for something

disagreeable?Whyisitthattheyneverseemtothinkitadutytotellyouthepleasantthingstheyhearaboutyou?Mrs.H.B.DonNELLcalledattheschoolagainyesterdayandtoldmeshethoughtitHERdutytoinformmethatMrs.HarmonAndrewdidn'tapproveofmyreadingfairytalestothechildren,andthatMr.RogersonthoughtPrilliewasn'tcomingonfastenoughinarithmetic.If Prilliewould spend less timemaking eyes at the boys over her slate shemightdobetter.IfeelquitesurethatJackGillisworksherclasssumsforher,thoughI'veneverbeenabletocatchhimred-handed.""Have you succeeded in reconcilingMrs. DonNELL's hopeful son to his

saintlyname?""Yes," laughed Anne, "but it was really a difficult task. At first, when I

calledhim'St.Clair'hewouldnottaketheleastnoticeuntilI'dspokentwoorthreetimes;andthen,whentheotherboysnudgedhim,hewouldlookupwithsuchanaggrievedair,asifI'dcalledhimJohnorCharlieandhecouldn'tbeexpected toknow Imeant him.So I kept him in after school onenight andtalkedkindlytohim.ItoldhimhismotherwishedmetocallhimSt.ClairandIcouldn'tgoagainstherwishes.Hesawitwhenitwasallexplainedout...he'sreallyaveryreasonablelittlefellow...andhesaidIcouldcallhimSt.Clair but that he'd 'lick the stuffing' out of any of the boys that tried it.Ofcourse, I had to rebuke him again for using such shocking language. SincethenIcallhimSt.ClairandtheboyscallhimJakeandallgoessmoothly.Heinformsmethathemeanstobeacarpenter,butMrs.DonNELLsaysIamtomakeacollegeprofessoroutofhim."ThementionofcollegegaveanewdirectiontoGilbert'sthoughts,andthey

talkedforatimeoftheirplansandwishes...gravely,earnestly,hopefully,asyouthlovestotalk,whilethefutureisyetanuntroddenpathfullofwonderfulpossibilities.Gilberthadfinallymadeuphismindthathewasgoingtobeadoctor."It'sa splendidprofession,"he saidenthusiastically. "A fellowhas to fight

somethingallthroughlife...didn'tsomebodyoncedefinemanasafightinganimal?...andIwanttofightdiseaseandpainandignorance...whichareallmembersoneofanother.Iwanttodomyshareofhonest,realworkintheworld,Anne...addalittletothesumofhumanknowledgethatallthegoodmenhavebeenaccumulating since it began.The folkswho livedbeforemehave done so much for me that I want to show my gratitude by doingsomethingforthefolkswhowillliveafterme.Itseemstomethatistheonlywayafellowcangetsquarewithhisobligationstotherace.""I'd like to add some beauty to life," saidAnne dreamily. "I don't exactly

want to make people KNOWmore . . . though I know that IS the noblestambition...butI'dlovetomakethemhaveapleasantertimebecauseofme...tohavesomelittlejoyorhappythoughtthatwouldneverhaveexistedifI

hadn'tbeenborn.""Ithinkyou'refulfillingthatambitioneveryday,"saidGilbertadmiringly.Andhewasright.Annewasoneofthechildrenoflightbybirthright.After

shehadpassed througha lifewithasmileoraword thrownacross it likeagleamofsunshinetheownerofthatlifesawit,forthetimebeingatleast,ashopefulandlovelyandofgoodreport.FinallyGilbertroseregretfully."Well, Imust runup toMacPhersons'.MoodySpurgeon camehome from

Queen'stodayforSundayandhewastobringmeoutabookProfessorBoydislendingme.""AndImustgetMarilla'stea.ShewenttoseeMrs.Keiththiseveningand

shewillsoonbeback."Anne had tea ready when Marilla came home; the fire was crackling

cheerily,avaseoffrost-bleachedfernsandruby-redmapleleavesadornedthetable,anddelectableodorsofhamandtoastpervadedtheair.ButMarillasankintoherchairwithadeepsigh."Are your eyes troubling you? Does your head ache?" queried Anne

anxiously."No.I'monlytired...andworried.It'saboutMaryandthosechildren

...Maryisworse...shecan'tlastmuchlonger.Andasforthe

twins,Idon'tknowwhatistobecomeofthem."

"Hasn'ttheirunclebeenheardfrom?""Yes, Mary had a letter from him. He's working in a lumber camp and

'shackingit,'whateverthatmeans.Anyway,hesayshecan'tpossiblytakethechildrentillthespring.Heexpectstobemarriedthenandwillhaveahometotakethemto;buthesaysshemustgetsomeoftheneighborstokeepthemforthewinter.Shesaysshecan'tbeartoaskanyofthem.MarynevergotonanytoowellwiththeEastGraftonpeopleandthat'safact.Andthelongandshortofitis,Anne,thatI'msureMarywantsmetotakethosechildren...shedidn'tsaysobutsheLOOKEDit.""Oh!"Anneclaspedherhands, all athrillwithexcitement. "Andofcourse

youwill,Marilla,won'tyou?""I haven'tmadeupmymind," saidMarilla rather tartly. "I don't rush into

things inyourheadlongway,Anne.Third cousinship is apretty slimclaim.Anditwillbeafearfulresponsibilitytohavetwochildrenofsixyearstolookafter...twins,atthat."Marillahadanideathattwinswerejusttwiceasbadassinglechildren."Twinsarevery interesting . . .at leastonepairof them,"saidAnne."It's

onlywhentherearetwoorthreepairsthatitgetsmonotonous.AndIthinkitwouldberealniceforyoutohavesomethingtoamuseyouwhenI'mawayinschool."

"Idon'treckonthere'dbemuchamusementinit...moreworryandbotherthananythingelse, Ishouldsay.Itwouldn'tbesoriskyif theywereevenasoldasyouwerewhenItookyou.Iwouldn'tmindDorasomuch...sheseemsgoodandquiet.ButthatDavyisalimb."AnnewasfondofchildrenandherheartyearnedovertheKeithtwins.The

remembrance of her own neglected childhoodwas very vividwith her still.SheknewthatMarilla'sonlyvulnerablepointwashersterndevotiontowhatshe believed to be her duty, and Anne skillfully marshalled her argumentsalongthisline."If Davy is naughty it's all the more reason why he should have good

training, isn't it,Marilla?Ifwedon't takethemwedon'tknowwhowill,norwhatkindof influencesmaysurroundthem.SupposeMrs.Keith'snextdoorneighbors,theSprotts,weretotakethem.Mrs.LyndesaysHenrySprottisthemostprofanemanthateverlivedandyoucan'tbelieveawordhischildrensay.Wouldn'titbedreadfultohavethetwinslearnanythinglikethat?OrsupposetheywenttotheWiggins'.Mrs.LyndesaysthatMr.Wigginssellseverythingoff the place that can be sold and brings his family up on skimmilk. Youwouldn'tlikeyourrelationstobestarved,eveniftheywereonlythirdcousins,wouldyou?Itseemstome,Marilla,thatitisourdutytotakethem.""Isupposeitis,"assentedMarillagloomily."IdaresayI'lltellMaryI'lltake

them.Youneedn'tlooksodelighted,Anne.Itwillmeanagooddealofextraworkforyou.Ican'tsewastitchonaccountofmyeyes,soyou'llhavetoseetothemakingandmendingoftheirclothes.Andyoudon'tlikesewing.""Ihate it,"saidAnnecalmly,"but ifyouarewillingto takethosechildren

fromasenseofdutysurelyIcandotheirsewingfromasenseofduty.Itdoespeoplegoodtohavetodothingstheydon'tlike...inmoderation."

VIIIMarillaAdoptsTwins

Mrs.RachelLyndewassittingatherkitchenwindow,knittingaquilt,justasshe had been sitting one evening several years previously when MatthewCuthbert had driven down over the hill with what Mrs. Rachel called "hisimportedorphan."Butthathadbeeninspringtime;andthiswaslateautumn,andall thewoodswere leaflessand the fields sereandbrown.The sunwasjust setting with a great deal of purple and golden pomp behind the darkwoods west of Avonlea when a buggy drawn by a comfortable brown nagcamedownthehill.Mrs.Rachelpeeredatiteagerly."There'sMarilla getting home from the funeral," she said to her husband,

whowaslyingonthekitchenlounge.ThomasLyndelaymoreontheloungenowadaysthanhehadbeenusedtodo,butMrs.Rachel,whowassosharpatnoticing anything beyond her own household, had not as yet noticed this."And she's got the twins with her, . . . yes, there's Davy leaning over thedashboard grabbing at the pony's tail andMarilla jerking him back. Dora'ssittingupontheseatasprimasyouplease.Shealwayslooksasifshe'djustbeenstarchedand ironed.Well,poorMarilla isgoing tohaveherhands fullthiswinter andnomistake.Still, I don't see that she coulddo anything lessthan take them, under the circumstances, and she'll have Anne to help her.Anne'stickledtodeathoverthewholebusiness,andshehasarealknackywaywithchildren,Imustsay.Dearme,itdoesn'tseemadaysincepoorMatthewbrought Anne herself home and everybody laughed at the idea of Marillabringingupachild.Andnowshehasadoptedtwins.You'reneversafefrombeingsurprisedtillyou'redead."ThefatponyjoggedoverthebridgeinLynde'sHollowandalongtheGreen

Gableslane.Marilla'sfacewasrathergrim.ItwastenmilesfromEastGraftonandDavyKeithseemedtobepossessedwithapassionforperpetualmotion.ItwasbeyondMarilla'spowertomakehimsitstillandshehadbeeninanagonythewholewaylesthefalloverthebackofthewagonandbreakhisneck,ortumble over the dashboard under the pony's heels. In despair she finallythreatened towhip him soundlywhen she got him home.WhereuponDavyclimbedintoherlap,regardlessofthereins,flunghischubbyarmsaboutherneckandgaveherabear-likehug."I don't believe you mean it," he said, smacking her wrinkled cheek

affectionately."Youdon'tLOOKlikealadywho'dwhipalittleboyjust'causehecouldn'tkeepstill.Didn'tyoufinditawfulhardtokeepstillwhenyouwasonly'soldasme?""No, I always kept still when I was told," said Marilla, trying to speak

sternly,albeitshefeltherheartwaxingsoftwithinherunderDavy'simpulsivecaresses."Well,Is'posethatwas'causeyouwasagirl,"saidDavy,squirmingbackto

hisplaceafteranotherhug."YouWASagirlonce,Is'pose,thoughit'sawfulfunnytothinkofit.Doracansitstill...butthereain'tmuchfuninitIdon'tthink.Seemstomeitmustbeslowtobeagirl.Here,Dora,letmelivenyouupabit."Davy'smethodof"liveningup"wastograspDora'scurlsinhisfingersand

givethematug.Dorashriekedandthencried."Howcanyoubesuchanaughtyboyandyourpoormotherjustlaidinher

gravethisveryday?"demandedMarilladespairingly."Butshewasgladtodie,"saidDavyconfidentially."Iknow,'causeshetold

meso.Shewasawfultiredofbeingsick.We'dalongtalkthenightbeforeshe

died.ShetoldmeyouwasgoingtotakemeandDoraforthewinterandIwastobeagoodboy.I'mgoingtobegood,butcan'tyoubegoodrunningroundjustaswellassittingstill?AndshesaidIwasalwaystobekindtoDoraandstandupforher,andI'mgoingto.""Doyoucallpullingherhairbeingkindtoher?""Well,Iain'tgoingtoletanybodyelsepull it,"saidDavy,doublinguphis

fistsandfrowning."They'djustbettertryit.Ididn'thurthermuch...shejustcried 'cause she's a girl. I'm glad I'm a boy but I'm sorry I'm a twin.WhenJimmy Sprott's sister conterdicks him he just says, 'I'm oldern you, so ofcourseIknowbetter,'andthatsettlesHER.ButIcan'ttellDorathat,andshejustgoesonthinkingdiffruntfromme.Youmightletmedrivethegee-geeforaspell,sinceI'maman."Altogether, Marilla was a thankful woman when she drove into her own

yard,wherethewindoftheautumnnightwasdancingwiththebrownleaves.Anne was at the gate to meet them and lift the twins out. Dora submittedcalmly tobekissed,butDavyrespondedtoAnne'swelcomewithoneofhisheartyhugsandthecheerfulannouncement,"I'mMr.DavyKeith."AtthesuppertableDorabehavedlikealittlelady,butDavy'smannersleft

muchtobedesired."I'msohungryIain'tgottimetoeatp'litely,"hesaidwhenMarillareproved

him."Doraain'thalfashungryasIam.Lookatall theex'ciseI tookontheroad here. That cake's awful nice and plummy.We haven't had any cake athomeforever'neversolong,'causemotherwastoosicktomakeitandMrs.Sprottsaiditwasasmuchasshecoulddotobakeourbreadforus.AndMrs.WigginsneverputsanyplumsinHERcakes.Catchher!CanIhaveanotherpiece?"MarillawouldhaverefusedbutAnnecutageneroussecondslice.However,

she reminded Davy that he ought to say "Thank you" for it. Davy merelygrinnedatherandtookahugebite.Whenhehadfinishedtheslicehesaid,"Ifyou'llgivemeANOTHERpieceI'llsaythankyouforIT.""No,youhavehadplentyofcake,"saidMarillainatonewhichAnneknew

andDavywastolearntobefinal.DavywinkedatAnne,andthen,leaningoverthetable,snatchedDora'sfirst

pieceofcake,fromwhichshehadjusttakenonedaintylittlebite,outofherveryfingersand,openinghismouthtothefullestextent,crammedthewholeslice in. Dora's lip trembled andMarilla was speechless with horror. Annepromptlyexclaimed,withherbest"schoolma'am"air,"Oh,Davy,gentlemendon'tdothingslikethat.""I know they don't," said Davy, as soon as he could speak, "but I ain't a

gemplum."

"Butdon'tyouwanttobe?"saidshockedAnne."CourseIdo.Butyoucan'tbeagemplumtillyougrowup.""Oh, indeedyoucan,"Annehastened tosay, thinkingshesawachance to

sow good seed betimes. "You can begin to be a gentlemanwhen you are alittleboy.AndgentlemenNEVERsnatch thingsfromladies . . .or forget tosaythankyou...orpullanybody'shair.""They don't havemuch fun, that's a fact," saidDavy frankly. "I guess I'll

waittillI'mgrownuptobeone."Marilla,witharesignedair,hadcutanotherpieceofcakeforDora.Shedid

notfeelabletocopewithDavyjustthen.Ithadbeenaharddayforher,whatwiththefuneralandthelongdrive.AtthatmomentshelookedforwardtothefuturewithapessimismthatwouldhavedonecredittoElizaAndrewsherself.Thetwinswerenotnoticeablyalike,althoughbothwerefair.Dorahadlong

sleekcurlsthatnevergotoutoforder.Davyhadacropoffuzzylittleyellowringlets all over his round head. Dora's hazel eyes were gentle and mild;Davy's were as roguish and dancing as an elf's. Dora's nose was straight,Davy'sapositivesnub;Dorahada"prunesandprisms"mouth,Davy'swasallsmiles;andbesides,hehadadimpleinonecheekandnoneintheother,whichgavehimadear,comical,lopsidedlookwhenhelaughed.Mirthandmischieflurkedineverycornerofhislittleface."They'dbettergotobed,"saidMarilla,whothoughtitwastheeasiestway

todisposeofthem."DorawillsleepwithmeandyoucanputDavyinthewestgable.You'renotafraidtosleepalone,areyou,Davy?""No;butIain'tgoingtobedforeversolongyet,"saidDavycomfortably."Oh,yes,youare."Thatwasallthemuch-triedMarillasaid,butsomething

inhertonesquelchedevenDavy.HetrottedobedientlyupstairswithAnne."When I'm grown up the very first thing I'm going to do is stay upALL

nightjusttoseewhatitwouldbelike,"hetoldherconfidentially.InafteryearsMarillaneverthoughtofthatfirstweekofthetwins'sojournat

GreenGableswithoutashiver.Notthatitreallywassomuchworsethantheweeks that followed it;but it seemedsoby reasonof itsnovelty.Therewasseldom a waking minute of any day when Davy was not in mischief ordevisingit;buthisfirstnotableexploitoccurredtwodaysafterhisarrival,onSundaymorning...afine,warmday,ashazyandmildasSeptember.AnnedressedhimforchurchwhileMarillaattendedtoDora.Davyatfirstobjectedstronglytohavinghisfacewashed."Marillawashed ityesterday . . . andMrs.Wiggins scouredmewithhard

soapthedayofthefuneral.That'senoughforoneweek.Idon'tseethegoodofbeingsoawfulclean.It'slotsmorecomfablebeingdirty.""Paul Irving washes his face every day of his own accord," said Anne

astutely.DavyhadbeenaninmateofGreenGablesforlittleoverforty-eighthours;

buthealreadyworshippedAnneandhatedPaul Irving,whomhehadheardAnnepraisingenthusiasticallythedayafterhisarrival.IfPaulIrvingwashedhisfaceeveryday,thatsettledit.He,DavyKeith,woulddoittoo,ifitkilledhim. The same consideration induced him to submit meekly to the otherdetailsofhistoilet,andhewasreallyahandsomelittleladwhenallwasdone.AnnefeltanalmostmaternalprideinhimassheledhimintotheoldCuthbertpew.Davybehavedquitewellatfirst,beingoccupiedincastingcovertglancesat

allthesmallboyswithinviewandwonderingwhichwasPaulIrving.Thefirsttwohymnsand theScripture readingpassedoffuneventfully.Mr.Allanwasprayingwhenthesensationcame.LaurettaWhitewassittinginfrontofDavy,herheadslightlybentandher

fair hair hanging in two long braids, betweenwhich a tempting expanse ofwhite neck showed, encased in a loose lace frill.Laurettawas a fat, placid-looking child of eight, who had conducted herself irreproachably in churchfromtheveryfirstdayhermothercarriedherthere,aninfantofsixmonths.Davythrusthishandintohispocketandproduced...acaterpillar,afurry,

squirming caterpillar.Marilla saw and clutched at himbut shewas too late.DavydroppedthecaterpillardownLauretta'sneck.RightintothemiddleofMr.Allan'sprayerburstaseriesofpiercingshrieks.

The minister stopped appalled and opened his eyes. Every head in thecongregation flewup.LaurettaWhitewasdancingupanddown inherpew,clutchingfranticallyatthebackofherdress."Ow...mommer...mommer...ow...takeitoff...ow...getitout..

.ow...thatbadboyputitdownmyneck...ow...mommer...it'sgoingfurtherdown...ow...ow...ow...."Mrs.Whiteroseandwithasetfacecarriedthehysterical,writhingLauretta

outofchurch.HershrieksdiedawayinthedistanceandMr.Allanproceededwiththeservice.Buteverybodyfeltthatitwasafailurethatday.Forthefirsttime inher lifeMarilla tooknonoticeof the text andAnne satwith scarletcheeksofmortification.WhentheygothomeMarillaputDavytobedandmadehimstaytherefor

therestoftheday.Shewouldnotgivehimanydinnerbutallowedhimaplainteaofbreadandmilk.Annecarriedittohimandsatsorrowfullybyhimwhileheateitwithanunrepentantrelish.ButAnne'smournfuleyestroubledhim."I s'pose," he said reflectively, "that Paul Irvingwouldn't have dropped a

caterpillardownagirl'sneckinchurch,wouldhe?""Indeedhewouldn't,"saidAnnesadly."Well, I'mkindofsorryIdid it, then,"concededDavy."But itwassucha

jollybigcaterpillar...Ipickedhimuponthechurchstepsjustaswewentin.Itseemedapitytowastehim.Andsay,wasn'titfuntohearthatgirlyell?"TuesdayafternoontheAidSocietymetatGreenGables.Annehurriedhome

fromschool,forsheknewthatMarillawouldneedalltheassistanceshecouldgive.Dora,neatandproper,inhernicelystarchedwhitedressandblacksash,was sitting with the members of the Aid in the parlor, speaking demurelywhen spoken to, keeping silence when not, and in every way comportingherself as amodel child.Davy,blissfullydirty,wasmakingmudpies in thebarnyard."Itoldhimhemight,"saidMarillawearily."Ithoughtitwouldkeephimout

of worse mischief. He can only get dirty at that. We'll have our teas overbeforewecallhimtohis.Doracanhaveherswithus,butIwouldneverdaretoletDavysitdownatthetablewithalltheAidshere."WhenAnnewenttocalltheAidstoteashefoundthatDorawasnotinthe

parlor.Mrs.JasperBellsaidDavyhadcometothefrontdoorandcalledherout.AhastyconsultationwithMarillainthepantryresultedinadecisiontoletbothchildrenhavetheirteastogetherlateron.Teawashalf overwhen thedining roomwas invadedby a forlorn figure.

Marilla and Anne stared in dismay, the Aids in amazement. Could that beDora...thatsobbingnondescriptinadrenched,drippingdressandhairfromwhichthewaterwasstreamingonMarilla'snewcoin-spotrug?"Dora,whathashappenedtoyou?"criedAnne,withaguiltyglanceatMrs.

JasperBell,whosefamilywassaidtobetheonlyoneintheworldinwhichaccidentsneveroccurred."Davymademewalkthepigpenfence,"wailedDora."Ididn'twanttobut

hecalledmea fraid-cat.And I felloff into thepigpenandmydressgot alldirtyandthepigrunnedrightoverme.MydresswasjustawfulbutDavysaidifI'dstandunderthepumphe'dwashitclean,andIdidandhepumpedwaterallovermebutmydressain'tabitcleanerandmyprettysashandshoesisallspoiled."AnnedidthehonorsofthetablealonefortherestofthemealwhileMarilla

wentupstairsandredressedDorainheroldclothes.Davywascaughtandsenttobedwithoutanysupper.Annewenttohisroomattwilightandtalkedtohimseriously...amethodinwhichshehadgreatfaith,notaltogetherunjustifiedbyresults.Shetoldhimshefeltverybadlyoverhisconduct."I feel sorry nowmyself," admittedDavy, "but the trouble is I never feel

sorry for doing things till after I've did them.Dorawouldn't helpmemakepies, cause shewas afraid ofmessing her clo'es and thatmademe hoppingmad.Is'posePaulIrvingwouldn'thavemadeHISsisterwalkapigpenfenceifheknewshe'dfallin?""No, he would never dream of such a thing. Paul is a perfect little

gentleman."Davyscrewedhiseyestightshutandseemedtomeditateonthisforatime.

ThenhecrawledupandputhisarmsaboutAnne'sneck,snugglinghisflushedlittlefacedownonhershoulder."Anne,don'tyoulikemealittlebit,evenifIain'tagoodboylikePaul?""Indeed I do," said Anne sincerely. Somehow, it was impossible to help

likingDavy."ButI'dlikeyoubetterstillifyouweren'tsonaughty.""I . . . did something else today,"went onDavy in amuffled voice. "I'm

sorrynowbutI'mawfulscaredtotellyou.Youwon'tbeverycross,willyou?Andyouwon'ttellMarilla,willyou?""Idon'tknow,Davy.PerhapsIought to tellher.But I thinkIcanpromise

youIwon'tifyoupromisemethatyouwillneverdoitagain,whateveritis.""No,Ineverwill.Anyhow,it'snotlikelyI'dfindanymoreofthemthisyear.

Ifoundthisoneonthecellarsteps.""Davy,whatisityou'vedone?""IputatoadinMarilla'sbed.Youcangoandtakeitoutifyoulike.Butsay,

Anne,wouldn'titbefuntoleaveitthere?""DavyKeith!"AnnesprangfromDavy'sclingingarmsandflewacrossthe

hall to Marilla's room. The bed was slightly rumpled. She threw back theblanketsinnervoushasteandthereinverytruthwasthetoad,blinkingatherfromunderapillow."HowcanIcarrythatawfulthingout?"moanedAnnewithashudder.The

fireshovelsuggested itself toherandshecreptdowntoget itwhileMarillawas busy in the pantry. Anne had her own troubles carrying that toaddownstairs,forithoppedofftheshovelthreetimesandonceshethoughtshehadlostitinthehall.Whenshefinallydepositeditinthecherryorchardshedrewalongbreathofrelief."IfMarillaknewshe'dneverfeelsafegettingintobedagaininherlife.I'm

sogladthatlittlesinnerrepentedintime.There'sDianasignalingtomefromherwindow. I'mglad . . . I really feel theneedof somediversion, forwhatwith Anthony Pye in school and Davy Keith at homemy nerves have hadaboutalltheycanendureforoneday."

IXAQuestionofColor

"ThatoldnuisanceofaRachelLyndewashereagaintoday,pesteringmeforasubscriptiontowardsbuyingacarpetforthevestryroom,"saidMr.Harrison

wrathfully. "I detest thatwomanmore than anybody I know. She can put awholesermon,text,comment,andapplication,intosixwords,andthrowitatyoulikeabrick."Anne,whowasperchedontheedgeoftheveranda,enjoyingthecharmofa

mildwestwindblowingacrossanewlyploughedfieldonagrayNovembertwilight and piping a quaint littlemelody among the twisted firs below thegarden,turnedherdreamyfaceoverhershoulder."The trouble is, you and Mrs. Lynde don't understand one another," she

explained."Thatisalwayswhatiswrongwhenpeopledon'tlikeeachother.Ididn'tlikeMrs.Lyndeatfirsteither;butassoonasIcametounderstandherIlearnedto.""Mrs.Lyndemaybeanacquiredtastewithsomefolks;butIdidn'tkeepon

eatingbananasbecauseIwastoldI'dlearntolikethemifIdid,"growledMr.Harrison."Andasforunderstandingher,IunderstandthatsheisaconfirmedbusybodyandItoldherso.""Oh,thatmusthavehurtherfeelingsverymuch,"saidAnnereproachfully.

"Howcouldyousaysuchathing?IsaidsomedreadfulthingstoMrs.Lyndelong ago but it was when I had lost my temper. I couldn't say themDELIBERATELY.""ItwasthetruthandIbelieveintellingthetruthtoeverybody.""But you don't tell the whole truth," objected Anne. "You only tell the

disagreeablepartofthetruth.Now,you'vetoldmeadozentimesthatmyhairwasred,butyou'veneveroncetoldmethatIhadanicenose.""Idaresayyouknowitwithoutanytelling,"chuckledMr.Harrison."IknowIhaveredhairtoo...althoughit'sMUCHdarkerthanitusedtobe

...sothere'snoneedoftellingmethateither.""Well,well, I'll tryandnotmention itagainsinceyou'resosensitive.You

mustexcuseme,Anne.I'vegotahabitofbeingoutspokenandfolksmustn'tmindit.""Buttheycan'thelpmindingit.AndIdon'tthinkit'sanyhelpthatit'syour

habit.Whatwould you think of a personwhowent about sticking pins andneedlesintopeopleandsaying,'Excuseme,youmustn'tmindit...it'sjustahabitI'vegot.'You'dthinkhewascrazy,wouldn'tyou?AndasforMrs.Lyndebeing a busybody, perhaps she is. But did you tell her she had a very kindheartandalwayshelpedthepoor,andneversaidawordwhenTimothyCottonstoleacrockofbutteroutofherdairyand toldhiswifehe'dbought it fromher? Mrs. Cotton cast it up to her the next time they met that it tasted ofturnipsandMrs.Lyndejustsaidshewassorryithadturnedoutsopoorly.""Isupposeshehassomegoodqualities,"concededMr.Harrisongrudgingly.

"Mostfolkshave.Ihavesomemyself,thoughyoumightneversuspectit.Butanyhow I ain't going to give anything to that carpet. Folks are everlasting

begging formoneyhere, it seems tome.How'syourprojectofpainting thehallcomingon?""Splendidly.Wehadameetingof theA.V.I.S. lastFridaynightand found

thatwehadplentyofmoneysubscribedtopaintthehallandshingletherooftoo.MOSTpeoplegaveveryliberally,Mr.Harrison."Anne was a sweet-souled lass, but she could instill some venom into

innocentitalicswhenoccasionrequired."Whatcolorareyougoingtohaveit?""We have decided on a very pretty green. The roof will be dark red, of

course.Mr.RogerPyeisgoingtogetthepaintintowntoday.""Who'sgotthejob?""Mr.JoshuaPyeofCarmody.Hehasnearlyfinishedtheshingling.Wehad

to give him the contract, for every one of the Pyes . . . and there are fourfamilies, you know . . . said theywouldn't give a cent unless Joshua got it.Theyhadsubscribedtwelvedollarsbetweenthemandwethoughtthatwastoomuch to lose, althoughsomepeople thinkweshouldn'thavegiven in to thePyes.Mrs.Lyndesaystheytrytoruneverything.""Themainquestioniswill thisJoshuadohisworkwell.IfhedoesIdon't

seethatitmatterswhetherhisnameisPyeorPudding.""Hehasthereputationofbeingagoodworkman,thoughtheysayhe'savery

peculiarman.Hehardlyevertalks.""He'speculiar enoughall right then," saidMr.Harrisondrily. "Orat least,

folksherewillcallhimso.IneverwasmuchofatalkertillIcametoAvonleaandthenIhadtobegininself-defenseorMrs.LyndewouldhavesaidIwasdumbandstartedasubscriptiontohavemetaughtsignlanguage.You'renotgoingyet,Anne?""Imust.IhavesomesewingtodoforDorathisevening.Besides,Davyis

probablybreakingMarilla'sheartwithsomenewmischiefby this time.Thismorningthefirstthinghesaidwas,'Wheredoesthedarkgo,Anne?Iwanttoknow.' I told him it went around to the other side of the world but afterbreakfasthedeclareditdidn't...thatitwentdownthewell.Marillasaysshecaughthimhangingoverthewell-boxfourtimestoday,tryingtoreachdowntothedark.""He's a limb," declaredMr. Harrison. "He came over here yesterday and

pulledsixfeathersoutofGinger'stailbeforeIcouldgetinfromthebarn.Thepoor bird has been moping ever since. Those children must be a sight oftroubletoyoufolks.""Everything that's worth having is some trouble," said Anne, secretly

resolving to forgiveDavy'snextoffence,whatever itmightbe, sincehehadavengedheronGinger.

Mr.RogerPyebroughtthehallpainthomethatnightandMr.JoshuaPye,asurly, taciturnman,beganpaintingthenextday.Hewasnotdisturbedinhistask.Thehallwassituatedonwhatwascalled"thelowerroad."Inlateautumnthisroadwasalwaysmuddyandwet,andpeoplegoingtoCarmodytraveledbythelonger"upper"road.Thehallwassocloselysurroundedbyfirwoodsthatitwasinvisibleunlessyouwerenearit.Mr.JoshuaPyepaintedawayinthesolitudeandindependencethatweresodeartohisunsociableheart.FridayafternoonhefinishedhisjobandwenthometoCarmody.Soonafter

hisdepartureMrs.RachelLyndedroveby,havingbravedthemudofthelowerroadoutofcuriositytoseewhatthehalllookedlikeinitsnewcoatofpaint.Whensheroundedthesprucecurveshesaw.The sight affectedMrs. Lynde oddly. She dropped the reins, held up her

hands,andsaid"GraciousProvidence!"Shestaredasifshecouldnotbelievehereyes.Thenshelaughedalmosthysterically."Theremustbesomemistake...theremust.IknewthosePyeswouldmake

amessofthings."Mrs.Lyndedrovehome,meetingseveralpeopleontheroadandstoppingto

tell themabout thehall.Thenews flew likewildfire.GilbertBlythe, poringovera textbookathome,heard it fromhis father'shiredboyat sunset, andrushedbreathlesslytoGreenGables,joinedonthewaybyFredWright.TheyfoundDianaBarry, JaneAndrews, andAnneShirley,despair personified, attheyardgateofGreenGables,underthebigleaflesswillows."Itisn'ttruesurely,Anne?"exclaimedGilbert."Itistrue,"answeredAnne,lookinglikethemuseoftragedy."Mrs.Lynde

calledonherwayfromCarmodytotellme.Oh,itissimplydreadful!Whatistheuseoftryingtoimproveanything?""What is dreadful?" asked Oliver Sloane, arriving at this moment with a

bandboxhehadbroughtfromtownforMarilla."Haven'tyouheard?"saidJanewrathfully."Well,itssimplythis...Joshua

Pyehasgone andpainted thehall blue insteadof green. . . a deep, brilliantblue,theshadetheyuseforpaintingcartsandwheelbarrows.AndMrs.Lyndesaysitisthemosthideouscolorforabuilding,especiallywhencombinedwitharedroof,thatsheeversaworimagined.Youcouldsimplyhaveknockedmedownwith a featherwhen I heard it. It's heartbreaking, after all the troublewe'vehad.""Howonearthcouldsuchamistakehavehappened?"wailedDiana.Theblameofthisunmercifuldisasterwaseventuallynarroweddowntothe

Pyes.TheImprovershaddecidedtouseMorton-HarrispaintsandtheMorton-Harrispaintcanswerenumberedaccordingtoacolorcard.Apurchaserchosehisshadeonthecardandorderedbytheaccompanyingnumber.Number147was the shade of green desired and whenMr. Roger Pye sent word to the

Improversbyhisson,JohnAndrew,thathewasgoingtotownandwouldgettheirpaintfor them, theImprovers toldJohnAndrewto tellhisfather toget147. John Andrew always averred that he did so, but Mr. Roger Pye asstanchlydeclaredthatJohnAndrewtoldhim157;andtherethematterstandstothisday.That night there was blank dismay in every Avonlea house where an

Improver lived.ThegloomatGreenGableswas so intense that it quenchedevenDavy.Anneweptandwouldnotbecomforted."Imust cry, even if I amalmost seventeen,Marilla," she sobbed. "It is so

mortifying. And it sounds the death knell of our society. We'll simply belaughedoutofexistence."In life, as indreams,however, thingsoftengobycontraries.TheAvonlea

peopledidnotlaugh;theyweretooangry.Theirmoneyhadgonetopaintthehallandconsequently theyfelt themselvesbitterlyaggrievedbythemistake.Public indignation centered on the Pyes. Roger Pye and John Andrew hadbungled thematterbetween them;andas forJoshuaPye,hemustbeabornfoolnottosuspecttherewassomethingwrongwhenheopenedthecansandsawthecolorofthepaint.JoshuaPye,whenthusanimadvertedupon,retortedthat theAvonlea taste incolorswasnobusinessofhis,whateverhisprivateopinionmightbe;hehadbeenhiredtopaintthehall,nottotalkaboutit;andhemeanttohavehismoneyforit.The Improvers paid himhismoney in bitterness of spirit, after consulting

Mr.PeterSloane,whowasamagistrate."You'llhavetopayit,"Petertoldhim."Youcan'tholdhimresponsiblefor

themistake,sinceheclaimshewasnevertoldwhatthecolorwassupposedtobebutjustgiventhecansandtoldtogoahead.Butit'saburningshameandthathallcertainlydoeslookawful."The luckless Improvers expected that Avonlea would be more prejudiced

than ever against them; but instead, public sympathy veered around in theirfavor. People thought the eager, enthusiastic little bandwho hadworked sohard for theirobjecthadbeenbadlyused.Mrs.Lynde told them tokeeponand show thePyes that there reallywerepeople in theworldwho coulddothingswithoutmakingamuddleofthem.Mr.MajorSpencersentthemwordthat hewould clean out all the stumps along the road front of his farm andseeditdownwithgrassathisownexpense;andMrs.HiramSloanecalledattheschoolonedayandbeckonedAnnemysteriouslyoutintotheporchtotellherthatifthe"Sassiety"wantedtomakeageraniumbedatthecrossroadsinthe spring they needn't be afraid of her cow, for she would see that themaraudinganimalwaskeptwithinsafebounds.EvenMr.Harrisonchuckled,ifhechuckledatall,inprivate,andwasallsympathyoutwardly."Nevermind,Anne.Mostpaints fadeuglier everyyearbut thatblue is as

uglyasitcanbetobeginwith,soit'sboundtofadeprettier.Andtheroofisshingled and painted all right. Folkswill be able to sit in the hall after thiswithoutbeingleakedon.You'veaccomplishedsomuchanyhow.""ButAvonlea'sbluehallwillbeabywordinalltheneighboringsettlements

fromthistimeout,"saidAnnebitterly.Anditmustbeconfessedthatitwas.

XDavyinSearchofaSensation

Anne, walking home from school through the Birch Path one Novemberafternoon,feltconvincedafreshthatlifewasaverywonderfulthing.Thedayhadbeenagoodday;allhadgonewellinherlittlekingdom.St.ClairDonnellhad not fought any of the other boys over the question of his name; PrillieRogerson'sfacehadbeensopuffedupfromtheeffectsoftoothachethatshedidnotonce try tocoquettewith theboys inhervicinity.BarbaraShawhadmetwithonlyONEaccident...spillingadipperofwateroverthefloor...andAnthonyPyehadnotbeeninschoolatall."What a nicemonth thisNovemberhas been!" saidAnne,whohadnever

quite got over her childish habit of talking to herself. "November is usuallysuchadisagreeablemonth...asiftheyearhadsuddenlyfoundoutthatshewasgrowingoldandcoulddonothingbutweepandfretoverit.Thisyearisgrowingoldgracefully...justlikeastatelyoldladywhoknowsshecanbecharming even with gray hair and wrinkles. We've had lovely days anddelicioustwilights.Thislastfortnighthasbeensopeaceful,andevenDavyhasbeen almostwell-behaved. I really think he is improving a great deal.Howquietthewoodsaretoday. . .notamurmurexceptthatsoftwindpurringinthetreetops!Itsoundslikesurfonafarawayshore.Howdearthewoodsare!Youbeautifultrees!Iloveeveryoneofyouasafriend."Annepausedtothrowherarmaboutaslimyoungbirchandkissitscream-

whitetrunk.Diana,roundingacurveinthepath,sawherandlaughed."AnneShirley,you'reonlypretendingtobegrownup.Ibelievewhenyou're

aloneyou'reasmuchalittlegirlasyoueverwere.""Well,onecan'tgetoverthehabitofbeingalittlegirlallatonce,"saidAnne

gaily."Yousee,IwaslittleforfourteenyearsandI'veonlybeengrown-uppishforscarcelythree.I'msureIshallalwaysfeellikeachildinthewoods.Thesewalks home from school are almost the only time I have for dreaming . . .exceptthehalf-hourorsobeforeIgotosleep.I'msobusywithteachingandstudyingandhelpingMarillawiththetwinsthatIhaven'tanothermomentfor

imaginingthings.Youdon'tknowwhatsplendidadventuresIhaveforalittlewhile after I go to bed in the east gable every night. I always imagine I'msomethingverybrilliantandtriumphantandsplendid...agreatprimadonnaoraRedCrossnurseoraqueen.LastnightIwasaqueen.It'sreallysplendidto imagine you are a queen. You have all the fun of it without any of theinconveniencesandyoucanstopbeingaqueenwheneveryouwantto,whichyou couldn't in real life.But here in thewoods I like best to imagine quitedifferentthings...I'madryadlivinginanoldpine,oralittlebrownwood-elfhidingunderacrinkledleaf.Thatwhitebirchyoucaughtmekissingisasisterofmine.Theonlydifference is, she'sa treeand I'magirl,but that'sno realdifference.Whereareyougoing,Diana?""Down to theDicksons. Ipromised tohelpAlbertacutouthernewdress.

Can'tyouwalkdownintheevening,Anne,andcomehomewithme?""Imight...sinceFredWrightisawayintown,"saidAnnewitharathertoo

innocentface.Dianablushed,tossedherhead,andwalkedon.Shedidnotlookoffended,

however.Annefully intended togodown to theDicksons' thatevening,butshedid

not. When she arrived at Green Gables she found a state of affairs whichbanishedeveryotherthoughtfromhermind.Marillametherintheyard...awild-eyedMarilla."Anne,Doraislost!""Dora!Lost!"AnnelookedatDavy,whowasswingingontheyardgate,and

detectedmerrimentinhiseyes."Davy,doyouknowwheresheis?""No,Idon't,"saidDavystoutly."Ihaven'tseenhersincedinnertime,cross

myheart.""I'vebeenawayeversinceoneo'clock,"saidMarilla."ThomasLyndetook

sickallofasuddenandRachelsentupformetogoatonce.WhenIlefthereDorawasplayingwithherdollinthekitchenandDavywasmakingmudpiesbehindthebarn.Ionlygothomehalfanhourago...andnoDoratobeseen.DavydeclaresheneversawhersinceIleft.""NeitherIdid,"avowedDavysolemnly."Shemustbesomewherearound,"saidAnne."Shewouldneverwanderfar

awayalone. . .youknowhowtimidsheis.Perhapsshehasfallenasleepinoneoftherooms."Marillashookherhead."I've hunted the whole house through. But she may be in some of the

buildings."Athoroughsearchfollowed.Everycornerofhouse,yard,andoutbuildings

was ransackedby those twodistractedpeople.Anne roved theorchards and

theHauntedWood,callingDora'sname.Marilla tookacandleandexploredthecellar.Davyaccompaniedeachoftheminturn,andwasfertileinthinkingofplaceswhereDoracouldpossiblybe.Finallytheymetagainintheyard."It'samostmysteriousthing,"groanedMarilla."Wherecanshebe?"saidAnnemiserably"Maybeshe'stumbledintothewell,"suggestedDavycheerfully.AnneandMarilla looked fearfully intoeachother's eyes.The thoughthad

beenwiththemboththroughtheirentiresearchbutneitherhaddaredtoputitintowords."She...shemighthave,"whisperedMarilla.Anne, feeling faint and sick, went to the wellbox and peered over. The

bucket sat on the shelf inside. Far down belowwas a tiny glimmer of stillwater. TheCuthbertwellwas the deepest inAvonlea. IfDora. . . butAnnecouldnotfacetheidea.Sheshudderedandturnedaway."RunacrossforMr.Harrison,"saidMarilla,wringingherhands."Mr.HarrisonandJohnHenryarebothaway.. .theywenttotowntoday.

I'llgoforMr.Barry."Mr. Barry came back with Anne, carrying a coil of rope to which was

attachedaclaw-likeinstrumentthathadbeenthebusinessendofagrubbingfork.MarillaandAnnestoodby,coldandshakenwithhorroranddread,whileMr. Barry dragged the well, and Davy, astride the gate, watched the groupwithafaceindicativeofhugeenjoyment.FinallyMr.Barryshookhishead,witharelievedair."Shecan'tbedownthere.It'samightycuriousthingwhereshecouldhave

gotto,though.Lookhere,youngman,areyousureyou'venoideawhereyoursisteris?""I'vetoldyouadozentimesthatIhaven't,"saidDavy,withaninjuredair.

"Maybeatrampcomeandstoleher.""Nonsense,"saidMarillasharply,relievedfromherhorriblefearofthewell.

"Anne,doyousupposeshecouldhavestrayedovertoMr.Harrison's?Shehasalwaysbeentalkingabouthisparroteversincethattimeyoutookherover.""I can't believeDorawouldventure so far alonebut I'll goover and see,"

saidAnne.NobodywaslookingatDavyjustthenoritwouldhavebeenseenthatavery

decidedchangecameoverhisface.Hequietlyslippedoffthegateandran,asfastashisfatlegscouldcarryhim,tothebarn.Anne hastened across the fields to the Harrison establishment in no very

hopefulframeofmind.Thehousewaslocked,thewindowshadesweredown,and therewas no sign of anything living about the place. She stood on theverandaandcalledDoraloudly.

Ginger, in the kitchen behind her, shrieked and swore with suddenfierceness;butbetweenhisoutburstsAnneheardaplaintivecryfromthelittlebuildingintheyardwhichservedMr.Harrisonasatoolhouse.Anneflewtothe door, unhasped it, and caught up a smallmortalwith a tearstained facewhowassittingforlornlyonanupturnednailkeg."Oh, Dora, Dora, what a fright you have given us! How came you to be

here?""Davyand I cameover to seeGinger," sobbedDora, "butwecouldn't see

himafterall,onlyDavymadehimswearbykickingthedoor.AndthenDavybroughtmehereandrunoutandshutthedoor;andIcouldn'tgetout.Icriedand cried, I was frightened, and oh, I'm so hungry and cold; and I thoughtyou'dnevercome,Anne.""Davy?"ButAnnecouldsaynomore.ShecarriedDorahomewithaheavy

heart.HerjoyatfindingthechildsafeandsoundwasdrownedoutinthepaincausedbyDavy'sbehavior.ThefreakofshuttingDoraupmighteasilyhavebeen pardoned. But Davy had told falsehoods . . . downright coldbloodedfalsehoodsaboutit.ThatwastheuglyfactandAnnecouldnotshuthereyestoit. She could have sat down and cried with sheer disappointment. She hadgrowntoloveDavydearly...howdearlyshehadnotknownuntilthisminute. . . and it hurt her unbearably to discover that he was guilty of deliberatefalsehood.MarillalistenedtoAnne's taleinasilencethatbodednogoodDavy-ward;

Mr.BarrylaughedandadvisedthatDavybesummarilydealtwith.WhenhehadgonehomeAnne soothed andwarmed the sobbing, shiveringDora, gother her supper and put her to bed.Then she returned to the kitchen, just asMarilla came grimly in, leading, or rather pulling, the reluctant, cobwebbyDavy, whom she had just found hidden away in the darkest corner of thestable.Shejerkedhimtothematonthemiddleofthefloorandthenwentandsat

down by the east window. Anne was sitting limply by the west window.Between them stood the culprit. His backwas towardMarilla and it was ameek,subdued,frightenedback;buthisfacewastowardAnneandalthoughitwasalittleshamefacedtherewasagleamofcomradeshipinDavy'seyes,asifheknewhehaddonewrongandwasgoing tobepunished for it, but couldcountonalaughoveritallwithAnnelateron.ButnohalfhiddensmileansweredhiminAnne'sgrayeyes,astheremight

havedonehaditbeenonlyaquestionofmischief.Therewassomethingelse...somethinguglyandrepulsive."Howcouldyoubehaveso,Davy?"sheaskedsorrowfully.Davysquirmeduncomfortably."Ijustdiditforfun.ThingshavebeensoawfulquiethereforsolongthatI

thoughtitwouldbefuntogiveyoufolksabigscare.Itwas,too."InspiteoffearandalittleremorseDavygrinnedovertherecollection."Butyoutoldafalsehoodaboutit,Davy,"saidAnne,moresorrowfullythan

ever.Davylookedpuzzled."What'safalsehood?Doyoumeanawhopper?""Imeanastorythatwasnottrue.""Course I did," said Davy frankly. "If I hadn't you wouldn't have been

scared.IHADtotellit."Anne was feeling the reaction from her fright and exertions. Davy's

impenitentattitudegavethefinishingtouch.Twobigtearsbrimmedupinhereyes."Oh,Davy,howcouldyou?"shesaid,withaquiverinhervoice."Don'tyou

knowhowwrongitwas?"Davywasaghast.Annecrying. . .hehadmadeAnnecry!Afloodofreal

remorse rolled like a wave over his warm little heart and engulfed it. HerushedtoAnne,hurledhimself intoher lap,flunghisarmsaroundherneck,andburstintotears."I didn't know itwaswrong to tellwhoppers," he sobbed. "How did you

expect me to know it was wrong? All Mr. Sprott's children told themREGULARevery day, and cross their hearts too. I s'posePaul Irving nevertellswhoppersandhereI'vebeentryingawfulhardtobeasgoodashim,butnowIs'poseyou'llneverlovemeagain.ButIthinkyoumighthavetoldmeitwas wrong. I'm awful sorry I've made you cry, Anne, and I'll never tell awhopperagain."Davy buried his face in Anne's shoulder and cried stormily. Anne, in a

suddengladflashofunderstanding,heldhimtightandlookedoverhiscurlythatchatMarilla."Hedidn't know itwaswrong to tell falsehoods,Marilla. I thinkwemust

forgivehimfor thatpartof it this time ifhewillpromisenever to saywhatisn'ttrueagain.""Ineverwill,nowthatIknowit'sbad,"asseveratedDavybetweensobs."If

youevercatchmetellingawhopperagainyoucan..."Davygropedmentallyforasuitablepenance..."youcanskinmealive,Anne.""Don'tsay'whopper,'Davy...say'falsehood,'"saidtheschoolma'am."Why?" queried Davy, settling comfortably down and looking up with a

tearstained, investigating face. "Why ain't whopper as good as falsehood? Iwanttoknow.It'sjustasbigaword.""It'sslang;andit'swrongforlittleboystouseslang.""There'sanawful lotof things it'swrongtodo,"saidDavywithasigh."I

never s'posed there was so many. I'm sorry it's wrong to tell whop . . .falsehoods, 'cause it'sawfulhandy,butsinceit isI'mnevergoingto tellanymore.What areyougoing todo tome for telling them this time? Iwant toknow."AnnelookedbeseechinglyatMarilla."Idon'twant tobe toohardon thechild,"saidMarilla."Idaresaynobody

everdidtellhimitwaswrongtotelllies,andthoseSprottchildrenwerenofitcompanions for him. Poor Mary was too sick to train him properly and Ipresumeyoucouldn'texpectasix-year-oldchild toknowthings like thatbyinstinct. I suppose we'll just have to assume he doesn't know ANYTHINGright and begin at the beginning.But he'll have to be punished for shuttingDoraup,andIcan't thinkofanywayexcept tosendhimtobedwithouthissupperandwe'vedonethatsooften.Can'tyousuggestsomethingelse,Anne?I should think you ought to be able to,with that imagination you're alwaystalkingof.""ButpunishmentsaresohorridandIliketoimagineonlypleasantthings,"

saidAnne,cuddlingDavy."Therearesomanyunpleasantthingsintheworldalreadythatthereisnouseinimagininganymore."In theendDavywassent tobed,asusual, there toremainuntilnoonnext

day.Heevidentlydid some thinking, forwhenAnnewentup toher roomalittle later she heard him calling her name softly. Going in, she found himsittingup inbed,withhis elbowsonhis knees andhis chinproppedonhishands."Anne," he said solemnly, "is it wrong for everybody to tell whop . . .

falsehoods?Iwanttoknow?""Yes,indeed.""Isitwrongforagrown-upperson?""Yes.""Then,"saidDavydecidedly,"Marillaisbad,forSHEtellsthem.Andshe's

worse'nme,forIdidn'tknowitwaswrongbutshedoes.""DavyKeith,Marillanevertoldastoryinherlife,"saidAnneindignantly."She did so. She told me last Tuesday that something dreadfulWOULD

happentomeifIdidn'tsaymyprayerseverynight.AndIhaven'tsaidthemfor over a week, just to see what would happen . . . and nothing has,"concludedDavyinanaggrievedtone.Annechokedbackamaddesiretolaughwiththeconvictionthatitwouldbe

fatal,andthenearnestlysetaboutsavingMarilla'sreputation."Why,DavyKeith,"shesaidsolemnly,"somethingdreadfulHAShappened

toyouthisveryday."Davylookedsceptical."Is'poseyoumeanbeingsenttobedwithoutanysupper,"hesaidscornfully,

"butTHATisn'tdreadful.Course,Idon't like it,butI'vebeensent tobedsomuch since I come here that I'm getting used to it. And you don't saveanything bymakingme gowithout supper either, for I always eat twice asmuchforbreakfast.""I don't mean your being sent to bed. I mean the fact that you told a

falsehoodtoday.And,Davy,". . .Anneleanedoverthefootboardofthebedandshookherfingerimpressivelyattheculprit..."foraboytotellwhatisn'ttrueisalmosttheworstthingthatcouldHAPPENtohim...almosttheveryworst.SoyouseeMarillatoldyouthetruth.""ButIthoughtthesomethingbadwouldbeexciting,"protestedDavyinan

injuredtone."Marilla isn't to blame for what you thought. Bad things aren't always

exciting.They'reveryoftenjustnastyandstupid.""ItwasawfulfunnytoseeMarillaandyoulookingdownthewell,though,"

saidDavy,hugginghisknees.Annekeptasober faceuntil shegotdownstairsand thenshecollapsedon

thesittingroomloungeandlaugheduntilhersidesached."Iwishyou'dtellmethejoke,"saidMarilla,alittlegrimly."Ihaven'tseen

muchtolaughattoday.""You'll laughwhen you hear this," assuredAnne. AndMarilla did laugh,

which showedhowmuchher educationhad advanced since the adoptionofAnne.Butshesighedimmediatelyafterwards."IsupposeIshouldn'thavetoldhimthat,althoughIheardaministersayit

toachildonce.Buthedidaggravatemeso.ItwasthatnightyouwereattheCarmodyconcertandIwasputtinghimtobed.Hesaidhedidn'tseethegoodofprayinguntilhegotbigenoughtobeofsomeimportancetoGod.Anne,Idonotknowwhatwearegoingtodowiththatchild.Ineversawhisbeat.I'mfeelingcleandiscouraged.""Oh,don'tsaythat,Marilla.RememberhowbadIwaswhenIcamehere.""Anne,youneverwerebad. . .NEVER.Iseethatnow,whenI'velearned

whatrealbadnessis.Youwerealwaysgettingintoterriblescrapes,I'lladmit,butyourmotivewasalwaysgood.Davyisjustbadfromsheerloveofit.""Oh,no,Idon'tthinkitisrealbadnesswithhimeither,"pleadedAnne."It's

justmischief.Andit isratherquietforhimhere,youknow.Hehasnootherboystoplaywithandhismindhastohavesomethingtooccupyit.Doraissoprimandpropersheisnogoodforaboy'splaymate.Ireallythinkitwouldbebettertoletthemgotoschool,Marilla.""No,"saidMarillaresolutely,"myfatheralwayssaidthatnochildshouldbe

coopedupinthefourwallsofaschooluntilitwassevenyearsold,andMr.Allansaysthesamething.Thetwinscanhaveafewlessonsathomebutgoto

schooltheyshan'ttillthey'reseven.""Well, we must try to reform Davy at home then," said Anne cheerfully.

"With all his faults he's really a dear little chap. I can't help loving him.Marilla,itmaybeadreadfulthingtosay,buthonestly,IlikeDavybetterthanDora,forallshe'ssogood.""Idon'tknowbutthatIdo,myself,"confessedMarilla,"anditisn'tfair,for

Dora isn't a bit of trouble.There couldn't be abetter child andyou'dhardlyknowshewasinthehouse.""Dorais toogood,"saidAnne."She'dbehavejustaswell if therewasn'ta

soul to tellherwhat todo.Shewasbornalreadybroughtup, so shedoesn'tneedus;andIthink,"concludedAnne,hittingonaveryvital truth,"thatwealwayslovebestthepeoplewhoneedus.Davyneedsusbadly.""Hecertainlyneedssomething,"agreedMarilla."RachelLyndewouldsayit

wasagoodspanking."

XIFactsandFancies

"Teaching is really very interesting work," wrote Anne to a Queen'sAcademychum."JanesaysshethinksitismonotonousbutIdon'tfinditso.Somethingfunnyisalmostsuretohappeneveryday,andthechildrensaysuchamusing things. Jane says she punishes her pupils when they make funnyspeeches, which is probably why she finds teaching monotonous. Thisafternoon little Jimmy Andrews was trying to spell 'speckled' and couldn'tmanageit.'Well,'hesaidfinally,'Ican'tspellitbutIknowwhatitmeans.'"'What?'Iasked."'St.ClairDonnell'sface,miss.'"St. Clair is certainly very much freckled, although I try to prevent the

others from commenting on it . . . for I was freckled once and well do Iremember it.But Idon't thinkSt.Clairminds. Itwasbecause Jimmycalledhim 'St. Clair' that St. Clair pounded him on the way home from school. Iheardofthepounding,butnotofficially,soIdon'tthinkI'lltakeanynoticeofit."YesterdayIwastryingtoteachLottieWrighttodoaddition.Isaid,'Ifyou

hadthreecandiesinonehandandtwointheother,howmanywouldyouhavealtogether?' 'Amouthful,' said Lottie.And in the nature study class,when Iasked them to giveme a good reasonwhy toads shouldn't be killed,BenjieSloanegravelyanswered,'Becauseitwouldrainthenextday.'"It'ssohardnottolaugh,Stella.IhavetosaveupallmyamusementuntilI

gethome,andMarillasaysitmakeshernervoustohearwildshrieksofmirthproceedingfromtheeastgablewithoutanyapparentcause.ShesaysamaninGraftonwentinsaneonceandthatwashowitbegan."Did youknow thatThomas aBecketwas canonized as aSNAKE?Rose

Bellsayshewas...alsothatWilliamTyndaleWROTEtheNewTestament.ClaudeWhitesaysa'glacier'isamanwhoputsinwindowframes!"Ithinkthemostdifficultthinginteaching,aswellasthemostinteresting,

is toget thechildrentotellyoutheirreal thoughtsabout things.OnestormydaylastweekIgatheredthemaroundmeatdinnerhourandtriedtogetthemtotalktomejustasifIwereoneofthemselves.Iaskedthemtotellmethethingstheymostwanted.Someoftheanswerswerecommonplaceenough...dolls, ponies, and skates. Others were decidedly original. Hester Boulterwanted 'to wear her Sunday dress every day and eat in the sitting room.'HannahBellwanted 'tobegoodwithouthavingtotakeanytroubleaboutit.'Marjory White, aged ten, wanted to be a WIDOW. Questioned why, shegravelysaidthatifyouweren'tmarriedpeoplecalledyouanoldmaid,andifyouwere your husband bossed you; but if youwere awidow there'd be nodanger of either. Themost remarkablewishwas SallyBell's. Shewanted a'honeymoon.'Iaskedherifsheknewwhatitwasandshesaidshethoughtitwasanextranicekindofbicyclebecausehercousin inMontrealwentonahoneymoonwhen hewasmarried and he had always had the very latest inbicycles!"AnotherdayIaskedthemalltotellmethenaughtiestthingtheyhadever

done.Icouldn'tgettheolderonestodoso,butthethirdclassansweredquitefreely.ElizaBellhad'setfiretoheraunt'scardedrolls.'Askedifshemeanttodo it shesaid, 'notaltogether.'She just trieda littleend toseehow itwouldburnandthewholebundleblazedupinajiffy.EmersonGillishadspenttencents for candywhen he should have put it in hismissionary box.AnnettaBell'sworst crimewas 'eating someblueberries that grew in the graveyard.'Willie White had 'slid down the sheephouse roof a lot of times with hisSunday trouserson.' 'But Iwaspunished for it 'cause Ihad towearpatchedpantstoSundaySchoolallsummer,andwhenyou'repunishedforathingyoudon'thavetorepentofit,'declaredWillie."Iwishyoucouldseesomeoftheircompositions...somuchdoIwishit

thatI'llsendyoucopiesofsomewrittenrecently.LastweekItoldthefourthclassIwantedthemtowritemelettersaboutanythingtheypleased,addingbywayof suggestion that theymight tellmeof someplace theyhadvisitedorsomeinterestingthingorpersontheyhadseen.Theyweretowritetheletterson real note paper, seal them in an envelope, and address them to me, allwithoutanyassistancefromotherpeople.LastFridaymorningIfoundapileof lettersonmydeskand thatevening I realizedafresh that teachinghas itspleasuresaswellasitspains.Thosecompositionswouldatoneformuch.Here

isNedClay's,address,spelling,andgrammarasoriginallypenned."'MissteacherShiRleyGreengabels.p.e.Islandcanbirds"'Dear teacher I think Iwillwrite you a composition about birds. birds is

veryuseful animals.mycat catchesbirds.His name isWilliambut pa callshimtom.heisollstripedandhegotoneofhisearsfrozoflastwinter.onlyforthathewouldbeagood-lookingcat.Myunklehasadoptedacat. itcometohis house one day andwoudent go away and unkle says it has forgotmorethanmostpeopleeverknowed.he lets it sleeponhis rockingchareandmyauntsayshethinksmoreofitthanhedoesofhischildren.thatisnotright.weoughttobekindtocatsandgivethemnewmilkbutweoughtnotbebettertothemthantoourchildren.thisisollIcanthinkofsonomoreatpresentfromedwardblakeClaY.'""St.ClairDonnell'sis,asusual,shortandtothepoint.St.Clairneverwastes

words.Idonotthinkhechosehissubjectoraddedthepostscriptoutofmaliceaforethought.Itisjustthathehasnotagreatdealoftactorimagination.""'DearMissShirley"'Youtoldustodescribesomethingstrangewehaveseen.Iwilldescribethe

AvonleaHall. It has twodoors, an insideone andanoutsideone. It has sixwindowsandachimney.Ithastwoendsandtwosides.Itispaintedblue.Thatiswhatmakesitstrange.ItisbuiltonthelowerCarmodyroad.Itisthethirdmost important building in Avonlea. The others are the church and theblacksmithshop.Theyholddebatingclubsandlecturesinitandconcerts."'Yourstruly,"'JacobDonnell."'P.S.Thehallisaverybrightblue.'""AnnettaBell'sletterwasquitelong,whichsurprisedme,forwritingessays

isnotAnnetta'sforte,andhersaregenerallyasbriefasSt.Clair's.Annettaisaquiet little puss and amodel of good behavior, but there isn't a shadow oforginalityinher.Hereisherletter.—"'Dearestteacher,""IthinkIwillwriteyoualettertotellyouhowmuchIloveyou.Iloveyou

withmywholeheartandsoulandmind...withallthereisofmetolove...andIwanttoserveyouforever.Itwouldbemyhighestprivilege.ThatiswhyItrysohardtobegoodinschoolandlearnmylessuns."'Youaresobeautiful,my teacher.Yourvoice is likemusicandyoureyes

are like pansieswhen the dew is on them.You are like a tall stately queen.Yourhairislikeripplinggold.AnthonyPyesaysitisred,butyouneedn'tpay

anyattentiontoAnthony."'IhaveonlyknownyouforafewmonthsbutIcannotrealizethattherewas

everatimewhenIdidnotknowyou...whenyouhadnotcomeintomylifeto bless and hallow it. I will always look back to this year as the mostwonderful inmy lifebecause itbroughtyou tome.Besides, it's theyearwemovedtoAvonleafromNewbridge.Myloveforyouhasmademylifeveryrichandithaskeptmefrommuchofharmandevil.Iowethisalltoyou,mysweetestteacher."'Ishallneverforgethowsweetyoulookedthelast timeIsawyouinthat

blackdresswithflowers inyourhair. I shallseeyou like that forever,evenwhenwe are both old and gray. Youwill always be young and fair tome,dearestteacher.Iamthinkingofyouallthetime...inthemorningandatthenoontideandatthetwilight.Iloveyouwhenyoulaughandwhenyousigh...evenwhenyou lookdisdainful. Inever sawyou lookcross thoughAnthonyPyesaysyoualwayslooksobutIdon'twonderyoulookcrossathimforhedeservesit.Iloveyouineverydress...youseemmoreadorableineachnewdressthanthelast."'Dearestteacher,goodnight.Thesunhassetandthestarsareshining. . .

starsthatareasbrightandbeautifulasyoureyes.Ikissyourhandsandface,mysweet.MayGodwatchoveryouandprotectyoufromallharm.""Yourafecksionatepupil,"'AnnettaBell.'""This extraordinary letter puzzledme not a little. I knewAnnetta couldn't

havecomposeditanymorethanshecouldfly.WhenIwenttoschoolthenextdayItookherforawalkdowntothebrookatrecessandaskedhertotellmethetruthabouttheletter.Annettacriedand'fessedupfreely.Shesaidshehadneverwrittenaletterandshedidn'tknowhowto,orwhattosay,buttherewasbundle of love letters in her mother's top bureau drawer which had beenwrittentoherbyanold'beau.'"'Itwasn'tfather,'sobbedAnnetta, 'itwassomeonewhowasstudyingfora

minister,andsohecouldwritelovelyletters,butmadidn'tmarryhimafterall.She said she couldn'tmake outwhat hewas driving at half the time.But Ithought the letterswere sweetand that I'd just copy thingsoutof themhereand there to write you. I put "teacher" where he put "lady" and I put insomethingofmyownwhenIcould thinkof itandIchangedsomewords.Iput "dress" inplaceof "mood." Ididn't know justwhat a "mood"wasbut Is'poseditwassomethingtowear.Ididn'ts'poseyou'dknowthedifference.Idon't see how you found out it wasn't all mine. Youmust be awful clever,teacher.'"ItoldAnnettaitwasverywrongtocopyanotherperson'sletterandpassit

off as her own.But I'm afraid that allAnnetta repentedofwasbeing found

out."'AndIdoloveyou,teacher,'shesobbed.'Itwasalltrue,eveniftheminister

wroteitfirst.Idoloveyouwithallmyheart.'"It'sverydifficulttoscoldanybodyproperlyundersuchcircumstances."HereisBarbaraShaw'sletter.Ican'treproducetheblotsoftheoriginal."'Dearteacher,""Yousaidwemightwriteaboutavisit.Inevervisitedbutonce.Itwasat

myAuntMary'slastwinter.MyAuntMaryisaveryparticularwomanandagreathousekeeper.ThefirstnightIwastherewewereattea.Iknockedoverajug and broke it. AuntMary said she had had that jug ever since she wasmarriedandnobodyhadeverbrokenitbefore.WhenwegotupIsteppedonherdressandallthegatherstoreoutoftheskirt.ThenextmorningwhenIgotupIhitthepitcheragainstthebasinandcrackedthembothandIupsetacupofteaonthetableclothatbreakfast.WhenIwashelpingAuntMarywiththedinner dishes I dropped a china plate and it smashed. That evening I felldownstairsandsprainedmyankleandhadtostayinbedforaweek.IheardAuntMarytellUncleJosephitwasamercyorI'dhavebrokeneverythinginthehouse.WhenIgotbetteritwastimetogohome.Idon'tlikevisitingverymuch.Ilikegoingtoschoolbetter,especiallysinceIcametoAvonlea."'Yoursrespectfully,""BarbaraShaw.'""WillieWhite'sbegan,""RespectedMiss,""IwanttotellyouaboutmyVeryBraveAunt.ShelivesinOntarioandone

day she went out to the barn and saw a dog in the yard. The dog had nobusinesstheresoshegotastickandwhackedhimhardanddrovehimintothebarnandshuthimup.Prettysoonamancamelookingforaninaginarylion'(Query;—Did Willie mean a menagerie lion?) 'that had run away from acircus.AnditturnedoutthatthedogwasalionandmyVeryBraveAunthaddruvhimintothebarnwithastick.Itwasawondershewasnotetupbutshewasverybrave.EmersonGillissaysifshethoughtitwasadogshewasn'tanybraverthanifitreallywasadog.ButEmersonisjealousbecausehehasn'tgotaBraveAunthimself,nothingbutuncles.'"'Ihavekeptthebestforthelast.YoulaughatmebecauseIthinkPaulisa

geniusbutIamsurehisletterwillconvinceyouthatheisaveryuncommonchild.Paul livesawaydownnear theshorewithhisgrandmotherandhehasnoplaymates. . .norealplaymates.YourememberourSchoolManagementprofessortoldusthatwemustnothave'favorites'amongourpupils,butIcan'thelp lovingPaul Irving the best of allmine. I don't think it does any harm,though,foreverybodylovesPaul,evenMrs.Lynde,whosaysshecouldneverhavebelievedshe'dgetsofondofaYankee.Theotherboysinschoollikehim

too. There is nothingweak or girlish about him in spite of his dreams andfancies.He isverymanlyandcanholdhisown inallgames.He foughtSt.ClairDonnellrecentlybecauseSt.ClairsaidtheUnionJackwasawayaheadoftheStarsandStripesasaflag.Theresultwasadrawnbattleandamutualagreementtorespecteachother'spatriotismhenceforth.St.ClairsayshecanhittheHARDESTbutPaulcanhittheOFTENEST.'""Paul'sLetter."'Mydearteacher,"'Youtolduswemightwriteyouaboutsomeinterestingpeopleweknew.I

thinkthemostinterestingpeopleIknowaremyrockpeopleandImeantotellyouabout them. Ihavenever told anybodyabout themexceptgrandmaandfatherbutIwouldliketohaveyouknowaboutthembecauseyouunderstandthings.Thereareagreatmanypeoplewhodonotunderstandthingssothereisnouseintellingthem.'"'Myrockpeopleliveattheshore.Iusedtovisitthemalmosteveryevening

beforethewintercame.NowIcan'tgotillspring,buttheywillbethere,forpeoplelikethatneverchange...thatisthesplendidthingaboutthem.Norawas thefirstoneof themIgotacquaintedwithandsoI thinkI loveher thebest.ShelivesinAndrews'Coveandshehasblackhairandblackeyes,andsheknowsallaboutthemermaidsandthewaterkelpies.Yououghttohearthestoriesshecantell.ThentherearetheTwinSailors.Theydon'tliveanywhere,theysailallthetime,buttheyoftencomeashoretotalktome.Theyareapairofjollytarsandtheyhaveseeneverythingintheworld...andmorethanwhatis in the world. Do you know what happened to the youngest Twin Sailoronce?Hewassailingandhesailedrightintoamoonglade.Amoongladeisthetrack the fullmoonmakes on thewaterwhen it is rising from the sea, youknow,teacher.Well,theyoungestTwinSailorsailedalongthemoongladetillhecamerightuptothemoon,andtherewasalittlegoldendoorinthemoonandheopeneditandsailedrightthrough.Hehadsomewonderfuladventuresinthemoonbutitwouldmakethislettertoolongtotellthem.'"'Then there is theGoldenLady of the cave.One day I found a big cave

downon theshoreandIwentaway inandafterawhile I found theGoldenLady.Shehasgoldenhairrightdowntoherfeetandherdressisallglitteringandglisteninglikegoldthatisalive.Andshehasagoldenharpandplaysonitall day long . . . you can hear themusic any time along shore if you listencarefullybutmostpeoplewouldthinkitwasonlythewindamongtherocks.I've never told Nora about the Golden Lady. I was afraid it might hurt herfeelings.ItevenhurtherfeelingsifItalkedtoolongwiththeTwinSailors.'"'I alwaysmet the Twin Sailors at the StripedRocks. The youngest Twin

Sailor is verygood-temperedbut theoldestTwinSailor can lookdreadfullyfierceattimes.IhavemysuspicionsaboutthatoldestTwin.Ibelievehe'dbea

pirate if he dared. There's really something very mysterious about him. HesworeonceandItoldhimifheeverdiditagainheneedn'tcomeashoretotalktomebecauseI'dpromisedgrandmotherI'dneverassociatewithanybodythatswore.Hewasprettywellscared,Icantellyou,andhesaidifIwouldforgivehimhewouldtakemetothesunset.SothenexteveningwhenIwassittingontheStripedRocks theoldestTwincamesailingover thesea inanenchantedboatandIgotinher.Theboatwasallpearlyandrainbowy,liketheinsideofthemusselshells,andhersailwaslikemoonshine.Well,wesailedrightacrosstothesunset.Thinkofthat,teacher,I'vebeeninthesunset.Andwhatdoyousupposeitis?Thesunsetisalandallflowers.Wesailedintoagreatgarden,andthecloudsarebedsofflowers.Wesailedintoagreatharbor,allthecolorofgold,andIsteppedrightoutoftheboatonabigmeadowallcoveredwithbuttercupsasbigasroses.Istayedthereforeversolong.ItseemednearlyayearbuttheOldestTwinsaysitwasonlyafewminutes.Yousee,inthesunsetlandthetimeiseversomuchlongerthanitishere.'"'YourlovingpupilPaulIrving.'"'P.S.ofcourse,thisletterisn'treallytrue,teacher.P.I.'"

XIIAJonahDay

It reallybegan thenightbeforewitha restless,wakefulvigilofgrumblingtoothache.WhenAnnearoseinthedull,bitterwintermorningshefeltthatlifewasflat,stale,andunprofitable.Shewenttoschoolinnoangelicmood.Hercheekwasswollenandherface

ached.Theschoolroomwascoldandsmoky,for thefirerefusedtoburnandthechildrenwerehuddledaboutitinshiveringgroups.Annesentthemtotheirseatswithasharpertonethanshehadeverusedbefore.AnthonyPyestruttedtohiswithhisusualimpertinentswaggerandshesawhimwhispersomethingtohisseat-mateandthenglanceatherwithagrin.Never, so it seemed toAnne, had there been somany squeaky pencils as

therewerethatmorning;andwhenBarbaraShawcameuptothedeskwithasumshetrippedoverthecoalscuttlewithdisastrousresults.Thecoalrolledtoevery part of the room, her slatewas broken into fragments, andwhen shepickedherselfup,herface,stainedwithcoaldust,senttheboysintoroarsoflaughter.Anneturnedfromthesecondreaderclasswhichshewashearing."Really,Barbara," she said icily, "ifyoucannotmovewithout fallingover

somethingyou'd better remain in your seat. It is positivelydisgraceful for a

girlofyouragetobesoawkward."PoorBarbarastumbledbacktoherdesk,hertearscombiningwiththecoal

dust to produce an effect truly grotesque. Never before had her beloved,sympatheticteacherspokentoherinsuchatoneorfashion,andBarbarawasheartbroken. Anne herself felt a prick of conscience but it only served toincrease her mental irritation, and the second reader class remember thatlessonyet,aswellastheunmercifulinflictionofarithmeticthatfollowed.JustasAnnewassnappingthesumsoutSt.ClairDonnellarrivedbreathlessly."Youarehalfanhourlate,St.Clair,"Anneremindedhimfrigidly."Whyis

this?""Please, miss, I had to help ma make a pudding for dinner 'cause we're

expectingcompanyandClariceAlmira'ssick,"wasSt.Clair'sanswer,giveninaperfectlyrespectfulvoicebutneverthelessprovocativeofgreatmirthamonghismates."Takeyourseatandworkoutthesixproblemsonpageeighty-fourofyour

arithmetic forpunishment,"saidAnne.St.Clair lookedratheramazedathertonebuthewentmeeklytohisdeskandtookouthisslate.Thenhestealthilypassedasmallparcel toJoeSloaneacross theaisle.Annecaughthimin theactandjumpedtoafatalconclusionaboutthatparcel.OldMrs.HiramSloanehadlately takentomakingandselling"nutcakes"

bywayofaddingtoherscantyincome.ThecakeswerespeciallytemptingtosmallboysandforseveralweeksAnnehadhadnotalittletroubleinregardtothem.On theirway toschool theboyswould invest theirsparecashatMrs.Hiram's,bringthecakesalongwiththemtoschool,and,ifpossible,eatthemandtreattheirmatesduringschoolhours.Annehadwarnedthemthatiftheybroughtanymorecakestoschooltheywouldbeconfiscated;andyetherewasSt.ClairDonnellcoollypassingaparcelofthem,wrappedupintheblueandwhitestripedpaperMrs.Hiramused,underherveryeyes."Joseph,"saidAnnequietly,"bringthatparcelhere."Joe,startledandabashed,obeyed.Hewasafaturchinwhoalwaysblushed

and stutteredwhen hewas frightened.Never did anybody lookmore guiltythanpoorJoeatthatmoment."Throwitintothefire,"saidAnne.Joelookedveryblank."P...p...p...lease,m...m...miss,"hebegan."DoasItellyou,Joseph,withoutanywordsaboutit.""B...b...butm...m...miss...th...th...they're..."gaspedJoein

desperation."Joseph,areyougoingtoobeymeorareyouNOT?"saidAnne.A bolder and more self-possessed lad than Joe Sloane would have been

overawed by her tone and the dangerous flash of her eyes.Thiswas a newAnnewhomnoneofherpupilshadever seenbefore. Joe,withanagonizedglanceatSt.Clair,went to thestove,opened thebig, square frontdoor,andthrewtheblueandwhiteparcelin,beforeSt.Clair,whohadsprungtohisfeet,couldutteraword.Thenhedodgedbackjustintime.ForafewmomentstheterrifiedoccupantsofAvonleaschooldidnotknow

whether itwasanearthquakeoravolcanicexplosionthathadoccurred.Theinnocent looking parcel which Anne had rashly supposed to contain Mrs.Hiram'snutcakesreallyheldanassortmentoffirecrackersandpinwheelsforwhichWarrenSloanehad sent to townbySt.ClairDonnell's father thedaybefore, intending to have a birthday celebration that evening. The crackerswentoffinathunderclapofnoiseandthepinwheelsburstingoutofthedoorspunmadlyaroundtheroom,hissingandspluttering.Annedroppedintoherchairwhitewithdismayandallthegirlsclimbedshriekingupontheirdesks.JoeSloanestoodasonetransfixedinthemidstofthecommotionandSt.Clair,helplesswithlaughter,rockedtoandfrointheaisle.PrillieRogersonfaintedandAnnettaBellwentintohysterics.Itseemedalongtime,althoughitwasreallyonlyafewminutes,beforethe

last pinwheel subsided. Anne, recovering herself, sprang to open doors andwindows and let out the gas and smoke which filled the room. Then shehelped the girls carry the unconscious Prillie into the porch,whereBarbaraShaw,inanagonyofdesiretobeuseful,pouredapailfulofhalffrozenwateroverPrillie'sfaceandshouldersbeforeanyonecouldstopher.Itwasafullhourbeforequietwasrestored...butitwasaquietthatmight

be felt. Everybody realized that even the explosion had not cleared theteacher'smental atmosphere.Nobody, exceptAnthonyPye, daredwhisper aword.NedClayaccidentallysqueakedhispencilwhileworkingasum,caughtAnne's eye and wished the floor would open and swallow him up. Thegeography class were whisked through a continent with a speed that madethemdizzy.Thegrammar classwereparsed and analyzedwithin an inchoftheir lives.ChesterSloane, spelling "odoriferous"with two f's,wasmade tofeelthathecouldneverlivedownthedisgraceofit,eitherinthisworldorthatwhichistocome.Anneknewthatshehadmadeherselfridiculousandthattheincidentwould

be laughed over that night at a score of tea-tables, but the knowledge onlyangeredherfurther.Inacalmermoodshecouldhavecarriedoffthesituationwithalaughbutnowthatwasimpossible;sosheignoreditinicydisdain.WhenAnnereturnedtotheschoolafterdinnerallthechildrenwereasusual

intheirseatsandeveryfacewasbentstudiouslyoveradeskexceptAnthonyPye's. He peered across his book at Anne, his black eyes sparkling withcuriosityandmockery.Annetwitchedopenthedrawerofherdeskinsearchofchalk and under her very hand a lively mouse sprang out of the drawer,

scamperedoverthedesk,andleapedtothefloor.Annescreamedandsprangback,asifithadbeenasnake,andAnthonyPye

laughedaloud.Thena silence fell . . . averycreepy,uncomfortable silence.AnnettaBell

wasoftwomindswhethertogointohystericsagainornot,especiallyasshedidn't know just where the mouse had gone. But she decided not to.Whocouldtakeanycomfortoutofhystericswithateachersowhite-facedandsoblazing-eyedstandingbeforeone?"Whoputthatmouseinmydesk?"saidAnne.Hervoicewasquitelowbutit

madeashivergoupanddownPaulIrving'sspine.JoeSloanecaughthereye,feltresponsiblefromthecrownofhisheadtothesoleofhisfeet,butstutteredoutwildly,"N...n...notm...m...met...t...teacher,n...n...notm...m.

..me."AnnepaidnoattentiontothewretchedJoseph.ShelookedatAnthonyPye,

andAnthonyPyelookedbackunabashedandunashamed."Anthony,wasityou?""Yes,itwas,"saidAnthonyinsolently.Annetookherpointerfromherdesk.Itwasalong,heavyhardwoodpointer."Comehere,Anthony."Itwas far from being themost severe punishmentAnthony Pye had ever

undergone.Anne,eventhestormy-souledAnneshewasatthatmoment,couldnothavepunishedanychildcruelly.ButthepointernippedkeenlyandfinallyAnthony'sbravadofailedhim;hewincedandthetearscametohiseyes.Anne, conscience-stricken, dropped the pointer and toldAnthony to go to

his seat. She sat down at her desk feeling ashamed, repentant, and bitterlymortified.Herquickangerwasgoneandshewouldhavegivenmuchtohavebeenabletoseekreliefintears.Soallherboastshadcometothis...shehadactuallywhippedoneofherpupils.HowJanewould triumph!AndhowMr.Harrisonwouldchuckle!Butworsethanthis,bitterestthoughtofall,shehadlostherlastchanceofwinningAnthonyPye.Neverwouldhelikehernow.Anne,bywhatsomebodyhascalled"aHerculaneumeffort,"keptbackher

tears until she got home that night. Then she shut herself in the east gableroomandweptallhershameandremorseanddisappointmentintoherpillows...weptsolongthatMarillagrewalarmed,invadedtheroom,andinsistedonknowingwhatthetroublewas."The trouble is, I've got things the matter with my conscience," sobbed

Anne."Oh,thishasbeensuchaJonahday,Marilla.I'msoashamedofmyself.IlostmytemperandwhippedAnthonyPye.""I'mgladtohearit,"saidMarillawithdecision."It'swhatyoushouldhave

donelongago.""Oh,no,no,Marilla.AndIdon'tseehowIcaneverlookthosechildrenin

thefaceagain.IfeelthatIhavehumiliatedmyselftotheverydust.Youdon'tknowhowcrossandhatefulandhorridIwas.Ican'tforgettheexpressioninPaulIrving'seyes...helookedsosurprisedanddisappointed.Oh,Marilla,IHAVEtriedsohardtobepatientandtowinAnthony'sliking...andnowithasallgonefornothing."Marillapassedherhardwork-wornhandoverthegirl'sglossy,tumbledhair

with awonderful tenderness.WhenAnne's sobs grewquieter she said, verygentlyforher,"You take things toomuch to heart,Anne.We allmakemistakes . . . but

peopleforgetthem.AndJonahdayscometoeverybody.AsforAnthonyPye,whyneedyoucareifhedoesdislikeyou?Heistheonlyone.""I can't help it. I want everybody to love me and it hurts me so when

anybody doesn't.AndAnthony neverwill now.Oh, I justmade an idiot ofmyselftoday,Marilla.I'lltellyouthewholestory."Marilla listened to thewhole story, and if she smiled at certain parts of it

Anneneverknew.Whenthetalewasendedshesaidbriskly,"Well,nevermind.Thisday'sdoneandthere'sanewonecomingtomorrow,

withnomistakesinityet,asyouusedtosayyourself.Justcomedownstairsandhaveyoursupper.You'llseeifagoodcupof teaandthoseplumpuffsImadetodaywon'theartenyouup.""Plumpuffswon'tminister to aminddiseased," saidAnnedisconsolately;

butMarillathoughtitagoodsignthatshehadrecoveredsufficientlytoadaptaquotation.The cheerful supper table, with the twins' bright faces, and Marilla's

matchless plumpuffs . . . ofwhichDavy ate four . . . did "hearten her up"considerably after all. She had a good sleep that night and awakened in themorning to findherselfand theworld transformed. Ithadsnowedsoftlyandthicklyallthroughthehoursofdarknessandthebeautifulwhiteness,glitteringin the frosty sunshine, looked like a mantle of charity cast over all themistakesandhumiliationsofthepast.

"Everymornisafreshbeginning,

Everymornistheworldmadenew,"

sangAnne,asshedressed.Owing to the snow she had to go around by the road to school and she

thoughtitwascertainlyanimpishcoincidencethatAnthonyPyeshouldcomeploughingalongjustasshelefttheGreenGableslane.Shefeltasguiltyasiftheir positionswere reversed; but to her unspeakable astonishmentAnthonynotonlyliftedhiscap...whichhehadneverdonebefore...butsaideasily,"Kindofbadwalking,ain'tit?CanItakethosebooksforyou,teacher?"

Annesurrenderedherbooksandwonderedifshecouldpossiblybeawake.Anthonywalkedon in silence to the school,butwhenAnne tookherbooksshe smiled down at him . . . not the stereotyped "kind" smile she had sopersistently assumed for his benefit but a sudden outflashing of goodcomradeship. Anthony smiled . . . no, if the truth must be told, AnthonyGRINNEDback.Agrinisnotgenerallysupposedtobearespectfulthing;yetAnne suddenly felt that if she had not yet won Anthony's liking she had,somehoworother,wonhisrespect.Mrs.RachelLyndecameupthenextSaturdayandconfirmedthis."Well,Anne,Iguessyou'vewonoverAnthonyPye,that'swhat.Hesayshe

believesyouaresomegoodafterall,evenifyouareagirl.Saysthatwhippingyougavehimwas'justasgoodasaman's.'""Ineverexpectedtowinhimbywhippinghim,though,"saidAnne,alittle

mournfully,feelingthatheridealshadplayedherfalsesomewhere."Itdoesn'tseemright.I'msuremytheoryofkindnesscan'tbewrong.""No, but the Pyes are an exception to every known rule, that's what,"

declaredMrs.Rachelwithconviction.Mr.Harrisonsaid,"Thoughtyou'dcometo it,"whenheheard it,andJane

rubbeditinratherunmercifully.

XIIIAGoldenPicnic

Anne, on herway toOrchardSlope,metDiana, bound forGreenGables,just where themossy old log bridge spanned the brook below theHauntedWood, and they sat down by themargin of theDryad's Bubble,where tinyfernswere unrolling like curly-headed green pixy folkwakening up from anap."Iwasjustonmywayovertoinviteyoutohelpmecelebratemybirthday

onSaturday,"saidAnne."Yourbirthday?ButyourbirthdaywasinMarch!""Thatwasn'tmy fault," laughedAnne. "Ifmyparentshadconsultedme it

wouldneverhavehappenedthen.Ishouldhavechosentobeborninspring,ofcourse.Itmustbedelightfultocomeintotheworldwiththemayflowersandviolets.Youwould always feel that youwere their foster sister. But since Ididn't,thenextbestthingistocelebratemybirthdayinthespring.Priscillaiscoming over Saturday and Janewill be home.We'll all four start off to thewoods and spend a golden day making the acquaintance of the spring.Wenoneofusreallyknowheryet,butwe'llmeetherbackthereaswenevercan

anywhereelse.Iwanttoexploreall thosefieldsandlonelyplacesanyhow.Ihaveaconvictionthattherearescoresofbeautifulnookstherethathaveneverreally been SEEN although they may have been LOOKED at. We'll makefriendswithwindandskyandsun,andbringhomethespringinourhearts.""ItSOUNDSawfullynice,"saidDiana,withsomeinwarddistrustofAnne's

magicofwords."Butwon'titbeverydampinsomeplacesyet?""Oh, we'll wear rubbers," was Anne's concession to practicalities. "And I

wantyoutocomeoverearlySaturdaymorningandhelpmepreparelunch.I'mgoing to have the daintiest things possible . . . things that will match thespring,youunderstand...littlejellytartsandladyfingers,anddropcookiesfrostedwith pink and yellow icing, and buttercup cake.Andwemust havesandwichestoo,thoughthey'reNOTverypoetical."Saturday proved an ideal day for a picnic . . . a day of breeze and blue,

warm, sunny, with a little rollicking wind blowing across meadow andorchard. Over every sunlit upland and field was a delicate, flower-starredgreen.Mr. Harrison, harrowing at the back of his farm and feeling some of the

springwitch-workeveninhissober,middle-agedblood,sawfourgirls,basketladen,trippingacrosstheendofhisfieldwhereitjoinedafringingwoodlandofbirchandfir.Theirblithevoicesandlaughterechoeddowntohim."It'ssoeasytobehappyonadaylikethis,isn'tit?"Annewassaying,with

trueAnneishphilosophy. "Let's try tomake thisa reallygoldenday,girls, adaytowhichwecanalwayslookbackwithdelight.We'retoseekforbeautyandrefusetoseeanythingelse. 'Begone,dullcare!'Jane,youarethinkingofsomethingthatwentwronginschoolyesterday.""Howdoyouknow?"gaspedJane,amazed."Oh,Iknowtheexpression...I'vefeltitoftenenoughonmyownface.But

put it out of yourmind, there's a dear. Itwill keep tillMonday . . . or if itdoesn't somuch thebetter.Oh,girls, girls, see thatpatchofviolets!There'ssomething formemory's picture gallery.When I'm eighty years old . . . if Ieveram...IshallshutmyeyesandseethosevioletsjustasIseethemnow.That'sthefirstgoodgiftourdayhasgivenus.""IfakisscouldbeseenIthinkitwouldlooklikeaviolet,"saidPriscilla.Anneglowed."I'm sogladyouSPOKE that thought,Priscilla, insteadof just thinking it

andkeepingittoyourself.Thisworldwouldbeamuchmoreinterestingplace. . .althoughitISveryinterestinganyhow. . . ifpeoplespokeouttheirrealthoughts.""Itwouldbetoohottoholdsomefolks,"quotedJanesagely."Isupposeitmightbe,butthatwouldbetheirownfaultsforthinkingnasty

things.Anyhow,wecan tell all our thoughts todaybecausewearegoing tohavenothingbutbeautifulthoughts.Everybodycansayjustwhatcomesintoherhead.THATisconversation.Here'salittlepathIneversawbefore.Let'sexploreit."Thepathwasawindingone, sonarrow that thegirlswalked insingle file

andeventhenthefirboughsbrushedtheirfaces.Underthefirswerevelvetycushionsofmoss,andfurtheron,wherethetreesweresmallerandfewer,thegroundwasrichinavarietyofgreengrowingthings."Whata lotofelephant's ears,"exclaimedDiana. "I'mgoing topickabig

bunch,they'resopretty.""Howdidsuchgraceful feathery thingsevercometohavesuchadreadful

name?"askedPriscilla."Becausethepersonwhofirstnamedthemeitherhadnoimaginationatall

orelsefartoomuch,"saidAnne,"Oh,girls,lookatthat!""That" was a shallow woodland pool in the center of a little open glade

wherethepathended.Lateronintheseasonitwouldbedriedupanditsplacefilledwitharankgrowthofferns;butnowitwasaglimmeringplacidsheet,round as a saucer and clear as crystal. A ring of slender young birchesencircleditandlittlefernsfringeditsmargin."HOWsweet!"saidJane."Letusdancearounditlikewood-nymphs,"criedAnne,droppingherbasket

andextendingherhands.But the dance was not a success for the ground was boggy and Jane's

rubberscameoff."Youcan'tbeawood-nymphifyouhavetowearrubbers,"washerdecision."Well,wemustnamethisplacebeforeweleaveit,"saidAnne,yieldingto

theindisputablelogicoffacts."Everybodysuggestanameandwe'lldrawlots.Diana?""BirchPool,"suggestedDianapromptly."CrystalLake,"saidJane.Anne, standing behind them, implored Priscilla with her eyes not to

perpetrate another such name and Priscilla rose to the occasion with"Glimmer-glass."Anne'sselectionwas"TheFairies'Mirror."ThenameswerewrittenonstripsofbirchbarkwithapencilSchoolma'am

Janeproducedfromherpocket,andplacedinAnne'shat.ThenPriscillashuthereyesanddrewone."CrystalLake,"readJanetriumphantly.CrystalLakeitwas,andifAnnethoughtthatchancehadplayedthepoolashabbytrickshedidnotsayso.Pushing through theundergrowthbeyond, thegirls cameout to theyoung

green seclusionofMr.SilasSloane's backpasture.Across it they found the

entrancetoalanestrikingupthroughthewoodsandvotedtoexploreitalso.Itrewarded theirquestwithasuccessionofprettysurprises.First, skirtingMr.Sloane'spasture,cameanarchwayofwildcherrytreesallinbloom.Thegirlsswungtheirhatsontheirarmsandwreathedtheirhairwiththecreamy,fluffyblossoms.Thenthelaneturnedatrightanglesandplungedintoasprucewoodso thick and dark that they walked in a gloom as of twilight, with not aglimpseofskyorsunlighttobeseen."This is where the bad wood elves dwell," whispered Anne. "They are

impishandmaliciousbuttheycan'tharmus,becausetheyarenotallowedtodoevilinthespring.Therewasonepeepingatusaroundthatoldtwistedfir;and didn't you see a group of them on that big freckly toadstool we justpassed?Thegoodfairiesalwaysdwellinthesunshinyplaces.""I wish there really were fairies," said Jane. "Wouldn't it be nice to have

threewishes granted you . . . or even only one?Whatwould youwish for,girls,ifyoucouldhaveawishgranted?I'dwishtoberichandbeautifulandclever.""I'dwishtobetallandslender,"saidDiana."Iwouldwish tobe famous," saidPriscilla.Anne thought of her hair and

thendismissedthethoughtasunworthy."I'dwishitmightbespringallthetimeandineverybody'sheartandallour

lives,"shesaid."But that," said Priscilla, "would be just wishing this world were like

heaven.""Onlylikeapartofheaven.In theotherparts therewouldbesummerand

autumn...yes,andabitofwinter,too.IthinkIwantglitteringsnowyfieldsandwhitefrostsinheavensometimes.Don'tyou,Jane?""I . . . I don't know," said Jane uncomfortably. Jane was a good girl, a

memberofthechurch,whotriedconscientiouslytoliveuptoherprofessionand believed everything she had been taught. But she never thought aboutheavenanymorethanshecouldhelp,forallthat."MinnieMay askedme the other day if we would wear our best dresses

everydayinheaven,"laughedDiana."Anddidn'tyoutellherwewould?"askedAnne."Mercy,no!Itoldherwewouldn'tbethinkingofdressesatallthere.""Oh,Ithinkwewill...aLITTLE,"saidAnneearnestly."There'llbeplenty

oftimeinalleternityforitwithoutneglectingmoreimportantthings.Ibelievewe'llallwearbeautifuldresses...orIsupposeRAIMENTwouldbeamoresuitablewayofspeaking.Ishallwanttowearpinkforafewcenturiesatfirst...itwouldtakemethatlongtogettiredofit,Ifeelsure.IdolovepinksoandIcanneverwearitinTHISworld."

Past thesprucesthelanedippeddownintoasunnylittleopenwherealogbridgespannedabrook;andthencamethegloryofasunlitbeechwoodwheretheairwasliketransparentgoldenwine,andtheleavesfreshandgreen,andthewoodflooramosaicoftremuloussunshine.Thenmorewildcherries,anda littlevalleyof lissome firs, and thenahill so steep that thegirls lost theirbreathclimbingit;butwhentheyreachedthetopandcameoutintotheopentheprettiestsurpriseofallawaitedthem.Beyond were the "back fields" of the farms that ran out to the upper

Carmodyroad.Justbeforethem,hemmedinbybeechesandfirsbutopentothesouth,wasalittlecornerandinitagarden. . .orwhathadoncebeenagarden. A tumbledown stone dyke, overgrown with mosses and grass,surroundedit.Alongtheeasternsideranarowofgardencherrytrees,whiteasa snowdrift. There were traces of old paths still and a double line ofrosebushes through themiddle; but all the rest of the spacewas a sheet ofyellow andwhite narcissi, in their airiest, most lavish, wind-swayed bloomabovethelushgreengrasses."Oh, how perfectly lovely!" three of the girls cried. Anne only gazed in

eloquentsilence."Howintheworlddoesithappenthatthereeverwasagardenbackhere?"

saidPriscillainamazement."ItmustbeHesterGray'sgarden,"saidDiana."I'veheardmotherspeakofit

but I never saw it before, and Iwouldn't have supposed that it could be inexistencestill.You'veheardthestory,Anne?""No,butthenameseemsfamiliartome.""Oh,you'veseenitinthegraveyard.Sheisburieddownthereinthepoplar

corner.Youknow the littlebrown stonewith theopeninggates carvedon itand 'Sacredto thememoryofHesterGray,agedtwenty-two.'JordanGrayisburiedrightbesideherbutthere'snostonetohim.It'sawonderMarillanevertold you about it, Anne. To be sure, it happened thirty years ago andeverybodyhasforgotten.""Well, if there'sa storywemusthave it," saidAnne. "Let's sit rightdown

hereamongthenarcissiandDianawilltellit.Why,girls,therearehundredsofthem . . . they've spread over everything. It looks as if the garden werecarpetedwithmoonshine and sunshine combined.This is a discoveryworthmaking.To think that I've livedwithinamileof thisplaceforsixyearsandhaveneverseenitbefore!Now,Diana.""Longago,"beganDiana, "this farmbelonged tooldMr.DavidGray.He

didn't liveon it . . .he livedwhereSilasSloane livesnow.Hehadoneson,Jordan,andhewentuptoBostononewintertoworkandwhilehewastherehefell in lovewithagirlnamedHesterMurray.Shewasworking inastoreandshehatedit.She'dbeenbroughtupinthecountryandshealwayswanted

togetback.WhenJordanaskedher tomarryhimshesaidshewouldifhe'dtakeherawaytosomequietspotwhereshe'dseenothingbutfieldsandtrees.SohebroughthertoAvonlea.Mrs.LyndesaidhewastakingafearfulriskinmarryingaYankee, and it's certain thatHesterwasverydelicate andaverypoorhousekeeper;butmothersaysshewasveryprettyandsweetandJordanjustworshipped theground shewalkedon.Well,Mr.Graygave Jordan thisfarmandhebuiltalittlehousebackhereandJordanandHesterlivedinitforfour years. She never went out much and hardly anybody went to see herexceptmotherandMrs.Lynde.Jordanmadeherthisgardenandshewascrazyaboutitandspentmostofhertimeinit.Shewasn'tmuchofahousekeeperbutshehadaknackwithflowers.Andthenshegotsick.Mothersaysshethinksshewas inconsumptionbeforesheevercamehere.Shenever really laidupbutjustgrewweakerandweakerallthetime.Jordanwouldn'thaveanybodytowait on her.He did it all himself andmother says hewas as tender andgentleasawoman.Everydayhe'dwrapherinashawlandcarryherouttothegardenandshe'dliethereonabenchquitehappy.TheysaysheusedtomakeJordankneeldownbyhereverynightandmorningandpraywithherthatshemight die out in the garden when the time came. And her prayer wasanswered.OnedayJordancarriedherouttothebenchandthenhepickedallthe roses thatwereoutandheaped themoverher;andshe just smiledupathim. . .andclosedhereyes . . .andthat,"concludedDianasoftly,"wastheend.""Oh,whatadearstory,"sighedAnne,wipingawayhertears."WhatbecameofJordan?"askedPriscilla."He sold the farm after Hester died and went back to Boston.Mr. Jabez

Sloaneboughtthefarmandhauledthelittlehouseouttotheroad.JordandiedabouttenyearsafterandhewasbroughthomeandburiedbesideHester.""Ican'tunderstandhowshecouldhavewantedtolivebackhere,awayfrom

everything,"saidJane."Oh, I can easily understand THAT," said Anne thoughtfully. "I wouldn't

want it myself for a steady thing, because, although I love the fields andwoods,I lovepeopletoo.ButIcanunderstandit inHester.Shewastiredtodeathofthenoiseofthebigcityandthecrowdsofpeoplealwayscomingandgoingandcaringnothingforher.Shejustwantedtoescapefromitalltosomestill, green, friendly place where she could rest. And she got just what shewanted, which is something very few people do, I believe. She had fourbeautifulyearsbeforeshedied. . .fouryearsofperfecthappiness,soI thinkshewas to be enviedmore than pitied.And then to shut your eyes and fallasleepamongroses,withtheoneyoulovedbestonearthsmilingdownatyou...oh,Ithinkitwasbeautiful!""She set out those cherry trees over there," said Diana. "She toldmother

she'dnever live toeat theirfruit,butshewantedto thinkthatsomethingshehadplantedwouldgoonlivingandhelpingtomaketheworldbeautifulaftershewasdead.""I'msogladwecame thisway," saidAnne, the shining-eyed. "This ismy

adoptedbirthday,youknow,andthisgardenanditsstoryisthebirthdaygiftithasgivenme.Didyourmother ever tell youwhatHesterGray looked like,Diana?""No...onlyjustthatshewaspretty.""I'mrathergladofthat,becauseIcanimaginewhatshelookedlike,without

being hampered by facts. I think shewas very slight and small,with softlycurlingdarkhair andbig, sweet, timidbrowneyes, anda littlewistful, paleface."The girls left their baskets in Hester's garden and spent the rest of the

afternoonramblinginthewoodsandfieldssurroundingit,discoveringmanyprettynooksandlanes.Whentheygothungrytheyhadlunchintheprettiestspotofall...onthesteepbankofagurglingbrookwherewhitebirchesshotupoutof longfeatherygrasses.Thegirls satdownby the rootsanddid fulljustice to Anne's dainties, even the unpoetical sandwiches being greatlyappreciatedbyhearty, unspoiled appetites sharpenedby all the fresh air andexercise they had enjoyed.Anne had brought glasses and lemonade for herguests,butforherownpartdrankcoldbrookwaterfromacupfashionedoutofbirchbark.Thecupleaked,andthewatertastedofearth,asbrookwaterisapttodoinspring;butAnnethoughtitmoreappropriatetotheoccasionthanlemonade."Lookdoyouseethatpoem?"shesaidsuddenly,pointing."Where?"JaneandDianastared,asifexpectingtoseeRunicrhymesonthe

birchtrees."There...downinthebrook...thatoldgreen,mossylogwiththewater

flowingoveritinthosesmoothripplesthatlookasifthey'dbeencombed,andthatsingleshaftofsunshinefallingrightathwartit,fardownintothepool.Oh,it'sthemostbeautifulpoemIeversaw.""Ishouldrathercallitapicture,"saidJane."Apoemislinesandverses.""Ohdearme,no."Anneshookherheadwithitsfluffywildcherrycoronal

positively."The linesandversesareonly theoutwardgarmentsof thepoemandarenomorereally it thanyourrufflesandflouncesareYOU,Jane.Therealpoemis thesoulwithinthem. . .andthatbeautifulbit is thesoulofanunwrittenpoem.Itisnoteverydayoneseesasoul...evenofapoem.""Iwonderwhatasoul...aperson'ssoul...wouldlooklike,"saidPriscilla

dreamily."Likethat,Ishouldthink,"answeredAnne,pointingtoaradianceofsifted

sunlight streaming through a birch tree. "Only with shape and features of

course. I like to fancy souls as beingmade of light.And some are all shotthrough with rosy stains and quivers . . . and some have a soft glitter likemoonlightonthesea...andsomearepaleandtransparentlikemistatdawn.""Ireadsomewhereoncethatsoulswerelikeflowers,"saidPriscilla."Thenyoursoulisagoldennarcissus,"saidAnne,"andDiana'sislikeared,

redrose.Jane'sisanappleblossom,pinkandwholesomeandsweet.""Andyourownisawhiteviolet,withpurplestreaks in itsheart," finished

Priscilla.JanewhisperedtoDianathatshereallycouldnotunderstandwhattheywere

talkingabout.Couldshe?Thegirlswenthomebythelightofacalmgoldensunset,theirbasketsfilled

withnarcissusblossomsfromHester'sgarden,someofwhichAnnecarriedtothe cemetery next day and laid upon Hester's grave. Minstrel robins werewhistlinginthefirsandthefrogsweresinginginthemarshes.Allthebasinsamongthehillswerebrimmedwithtopazandemeraldlight."Well,wehavehadalovelytimeafterall,"saidDiana,asifshehadhardly

expectedtohaveitwhenshesetout."Ithasbeenatrulygoldenday,"saidPriscilla."I'mreallyawfullyfondofthewoodsmyself,"saidJane.Annesaidnothing.Shewaslookingafarintothewesternskyandthinking

oflittleHesterGray.

XIVADangerAverted

Anne,walkinghomefromthepostofficeoneFridayevening,wasjoinedbyMrs.Lynde,whowasasusualcumberedwithallthecaresofchurchandstate."I'vejustbeendowntoTimothyCotton'stoseeifIcouldgetAliceLouiseto

helpmeforafewdays,"shesaid."Ihadherlastweek,for,thoughshe'stooslow to stop quick, she's better than nobody.But she's sick and can't come.Timothy's sitting there, too, coughing and complaining.He's been dying fortenyearsandhe'llgoondyingfortenyearsmore.Thatkindcan'tevendieandhave donewith it . . . they can't stick to anything, even to being sick, longenoughtofinishit.They'reaterribleshiftlessfamilyandwhatistobecomeofthemIdon'tknow,butperhapsProvidencedoes."Mrs. Lynde sighed as if she rather doubted the extent of Providential

knowledgeonthesubject."Marilla was in about her eyes again Tuesday, wasn't she?What did the

specialistthinkofthem?"shecontinued."He was much pleased," said Anne brightly. "He says there is a great

improvement in them and he thinks the danger of her losing her sightcompletelyispast.Buthesaysshe'llneverbeabletoreadmuchordoanyfinehand-workagain.Howareyourpreparationsforyourbazaarcomingon?"TheLadies'AidSocietywaspreparingforafairandsupper,andMrs.Lynde

wastheheadandfrontoftheenterprise."Prettywell...andthatremindsme.Mrs.Allanthinksitwouldbeniceto

fix up a booth like an old-time kitchen and serve a supper of baked beans,doughnuts,pie,andsoon.We'recollectingold-fashionedfixingseverywhere.Mrs.SimonFletcher is going to lendushermother's braided rugs andMrs.LeviBoultersomeoldchairsandAuntMaryShawwilllendushercupboardwiththeglassdoors.IsupposeMarillawillletushaveherbrasscandlesticks?And we want all the old dishes we can get.Mrs. Allan is specially set onhavingarealbluewillowwareplatterifwecanfindone.Butnobodyseemstohaveone.Doyouknowwherewecouldgetone?""MissJosephineBarryhasone.I'llwriteandaskherifshe'lllenditforthe

occasion,"saidAnne."Well,Iwishyouwould.Iguesswe'llhavethesupperinaboutafortnight's

time.UncleAbeAndrewsisprophesyingrainandstormsforaboutthattime;andthat'saprettysuresignwe'llhavefineweather."Thesaid"UncleAbe,"itmaybementioned,wasatleastlikeotherprophets

inthathehadsmallhonorinhisowncountry.Hewas,infact,consideredinthe light of a standing joke, for few of his weather predictions were everfulfilled.Mr.ElishaWright,wholaboredunder theimpressionthathewasalocalwit,used tosay thatnobody inAvonleaever thoughtof looking in theCharlottetowndailiesforweatherprobabilities.No;theyjustaskedUncleAbewhatitwasgoingtobetomorrowandexpectedtheopposite.Nothingdaunted,UncleAbekeptonprophesying."Wewant to have the fair over before the election comes off," continued

Mrs.Lynde,"forthecandidateswillbesuretocomeandspendlotsofmoney.TheToriesarebribingrightandleft,sotheymightaswellbegivenachancetospendtheirmoneyhonestlyforonce."Annewasared-hotConservative,outofloyaltytoMatthew'smemory,but

shesaidnothing.Sheknewbetter thantogetMrs.Lyndestartedonpolitics.ShehadaletterforMarilla,postmarkedfromatowninBritishColumbia."It's probably from the children's uncle," she said excitedly,when she got

home."Oh,Marilla,Iwonderwhathesaysaboutthem.""The best planmight be to open it and see," saidMarilla curtly. A close

observermighthave thought that shewasexcitedalso,but shewould ratherhavediedthanshowit.

Annetoreopentheletterandglancedoverthesomewhatuntidyandpoorlywrittencontents."Hesayshecan'ttakethechildrenthisspring...he'sbeensickmostofthe

winterandhisweddingisputoff.Hewantstoknowifwecankeepthemtillthefallandhe'lltryandtakethemthen.Wewill,ofcourse,won'tweMarilla?""I don't see that there is anything else for us to do," said Marilla rather

grimly,althoughshefeltasecretrelief."Anyhowthey'renotsomuchtroubleastheywere . . .orelsewe'vegotusedtothem.Davyhasimprovedagreatdeal.""HisMANNERSarecertainlymuchbetter,"saidAnnecautiously,asifshe

werenotpreparedtosayasmuchforhismorals.Anne had come home from school the previous evening, to find Marilla

away at anAidmeeting,Dora asleep on the kitchen sofa, andDavy in thesitting room closet, blissfully absorbing the contents of a jar of Marilla'sfamousyellowplumpreserves..."companyjam,"Davycalledit...whichhehadbeenforbiddentotouch.HelookedveryguiltywhenAnnepouncedonhimandwhiskedhimoutofthecloset."DavyKeith,don'tyouknowthatit isverywrongofyoutobeeatingthat

jam,whenyouweretoldnevertomeddlewithanythinginTHATcloset?""Yes,Iknewitwaswrong,"admittedDavyuncomfortably,"butplumjamis

awfulnice,Anne.IjustpeepedinanditlookedsogoodIthoughtI'dtakejustaweenytaste.Istuckmyfingerin..."Annegroaned..."andlickeditclean.Anditwassomuchgooder thanI'dever thought thatIgotaspoonandjustSAILEDIN."Annegavehimsuchaserious lectureon thesinofstealingplumjamthat

Davybecameconsciencestrickenandpromisedwithrepentantkissesnevertodoitagain."Anyhow, there'll be plentyof jam inheaven, that's one comfort," he said

complacently.Annenippedasmileinthebud."Perhapstherewill...ifwewantit,"shesaid,"Butwhatmakesyouthink

so?""Why,it'sinthecatechism,"saidDavy."Oh,no,thereisnothinglikeTHATinthecatechism,Davy.""But I tell you there is," persisted Davy. "It was in that questionMarilla

taughtmelastSunday.'WhyshouldweloveGod?'Itsays,'BecauseHemakespreserves,andredeemsus.'Preservesisjustaholywayofsayingjam.""Imustgetadrinkofwater,"saidAnnehastily.Whenshecamebackitcost

hersometimeandtroubletoexplaintoDavythatacertaincommainthesaidcatechismquestionmadeagreatdealofdifferenceinthemeaning.

"Well, I thought itwas toogoodtobe true,"hesaidat last,withasighofdisappointed conviction. "And besides, I didn't see when He'd find time tomakejamif it'soneendlessSabbathday,as thehymnsays.Idon'tbelieveIwanttogotoheaven.Won'tthereeverbeanySaturdaysinheaven,Anne?""Yes,Saturdays, andeveryotherkindofbeautifuldays.Andeveryday in

heavenwill bemore beautiful than the one before it,Davy," assuredAnne,who was rather glad that Marilla was not by to be shocked. Marilla, it isneedless tosay,wasbringing the twinsup in thegoodoldwaysof theologyand discouraged all fanciful speculations thereupon. Davy and Dora weretaughtahymn,acatechismquestion,andtwoBibleverseseverySunday.Doralearned meekly and recited like a little machine, with perhaps as muchunderstanding or interest as if she were one. Davy, on the contrary, had alively curiosity, and frequently askedquestionswhichmadeMarilla trembleforhisfate."ChesterSloanesayswe'lldonothingallthetimeinheavenbutwalkaround

inwhitedressesandplayonharps;andhesayshehopeshewon'thavetogotillhe'sanoldman,'causemaybehe'lllikeitbetterthen.Andhethinksitwillbe horrid to wear dresses and I think so too. Why can't men angels weartrousers, Anne? Chester Sloane is interested in those things, 'cause they'regoing to make a minister of him. He's got to be a minister 'cause hisgrandmotherleftthemoneytosendhimtocollegeandhecan'thaveitunlessheisaminister.Shethoughtaministerwassucha'spectablethingtohaveinafamily. Chester says he doesn't mind much . . . though he'd rather be ablacksmith...buthe'sboundtohaveallthefunhecanbeforehebeginstobeaminister,'causehedoesn'texpecttohavemuchafterwards.Iain'tgoingtobeaminister. I'm going to be a storekeeper, likeMr. Blair, and keep heaps ofcandyandbananas.ButI'dratherlikegoingtoyourkindofaheavenifthey'dletmeplayamouthorganinsteadofaharp.Doyous'posetheywould?""Yes,Ithinktheywouldifyouwantedit,"wasallAnnecouldtrustherself

tosay.TheA.V.I.S.metatMr.HarmonAndrews'thateveningandafullattendance

had been requested, since important business was to be discussed. TheA.V.I.S. was in a flourishing condition, and had already accomplishedwonders.EarlyinthespringMr.MajorSpencerhadredeemedhispromiseandhadstumped,graded,andseededdownalltheroadfrontofhisfarm.Adozenothermen,somepromptedbyadeterminationnottoletaSpencergetaheadofthem, others goaded into action by Improvers in their own households, hadfollowed his example. The resultwas that therewere long strips of smoothvelvet turf where once had been unsightly undergrowth or brush. The farmfronts that had not been done looked so badly by contrast that their ownersweresecretlyshamedintoresolvingtoseewhattheycoulddoanotherspring.The triangle of ground at the cross roads had also been cleared and seeded

down, andAnne's bedof geraniums, unharmedby anymarauding cow,wasalreadysetoutinthecenter.Altogether,theImproversthoughtthattheyweregettingonbeautifully,even

ifMr.LeviBoulter,tactfullyapproachedbyacarefullyselectedcommitteeinregardtotheoldhouseonhisupperfarm,didbluntlytellthemthathewasn'tgoingtohaveitmeddledwith.At this especialmeeting they intended todrawup apetition to the school

trustees,humblyprayingthatafencebeputaroundtheschoolgrounds;andaplan was also to be discussed for planting a few ornamental trees by thechurch, if the fundsof the societywouldpermitof it . . . for, asAnne said,therewasnouseinstartinganothersubscriptionaslongasthehallremainedblue. The members were assembled in the Andrews' parlor and Jane wasalreadyonherfeettomovetheappointmentofacommitteewhichshouldfindout and report on the price of said trees, when Gertie Pye swept in,pompadouredandfrilledwithinaninchofherlife.Gertiehadahabitofbeinglate . . . "tomakeherentrancemoreeffective,"spitefulpeoplesaid.Gertie'sentrance in this instancewascertainlyeffective, for shepauseddramaticallyonthemiddleofthefloor,threwupherhands,rolledhereyes,andexclaimed,"I've justheard somethingperfectlyawful.WhatDOyou think?Mr. JudsonParkerISGOINGTORENTALLTHEROADFENCEOFHISFARMTOAPATENTMEDICINECOMPANYTOPAINTADVERTISEMENTSON."ForonceinherlifeGertiePyemadeallthesensationshedesired.Ifshehad

thrownabombamongthecomplacentImproversshecouldhardlyhavemademore."ItCAN'Tbetrue,"saidAnneblankly."That's justwhat I saidwhenIheard it first,don'tyouknow,"saidGertie,

whowas enjoyingherself hugely. "I said it couldn't be true . . . that JudsonParkerwouldn'thavetheHEARTtodoit,don'tyouknow.ButfathermethimthisafternoonandaskedhimaboutitandhesaiditWAStrue.Justfancy!Hisfarmisside-ontotheNewbridgeroadandhowperfectlyawfulitwilllooktoseeadvertisementsofpillsandplastersallalongit,don'tyouknow?"The ImproversDIDknow, all toowell.Even the least imaginative among

themcouldpicturethegrotesqueeffectofhalfamileofboardfenceadornedwithsuchadvertisements.Allthoughtofchurchandschoolgroundsvanishedbefore this new danger. Parliamentary rules and regulations were forgotten,andAnne,indespair,gaveuptryingtokeepminutesatall.Everybodytalkedatonceandfearfulwasthehubbub."Oh,letuskeepcalm,"imploredAnne,whowasthemostexcitedofthem

all,"andtrytothinkofsomewayofpreventinghim.""I don't know how you're going to prevent him," exclaimed Jane bitterly.

"Everybodyknowswhat JudsonParker is.He'd doANYTHING formoney.

Hehasn'taSPARKofpublicspiritorANYsenseofthebeautiful."Theprospect lookedratherunpromising.JudsonParkerandhissisterwere

theonlyParkers inAvonlea, so thatno leveragecouldbeexertedby familyconnections.MarthaParkerwasaladyofalltoocertainagewhodisapprovedof young people in general and the Improvers in particular. Judson was ajovial, smooth-spokenman, so uniformly goodnatured and bland that itwassurprisinghowfewfriendshehad.Perhapshehadgotthebetterintoomanybusinesstransactions.. .whichseldommakesforpopularity.Hewasreputedto be very "sharp" and it was the general opinion that he "hadn't muchprinciple.""IfJudsonParkerhasachanceto'turnanhonestpenny,'ashesayshimself,

he'llneverloseit,"declaredFredWright."Is there NOBODY who has any influence over him?" asked Anne

despairingly."HegoestoseeLouisaSpenceratWhiteSands,"suggestedCarrieSloane.

"Perhapsshecouldcoaxhimnottorenthisfences.""Not she," said Gilbert emphatically. "I know Louisa Spencer well. She

doesn't 'believe' inVillage ImprovementSocieties, but sheDOESbelieve indollars and cents. She'd bemore likely to urge Judson on than to dissuadehim.""Theonlythingtodoistoappointacommitteetowaitonhimandprotest,"

saidJuliaBell,"andyoumustsendgirls,forhe'dhardlybeciviltoboys.. .butIwon'tgo,sonobodyneednominateme.""BettersendAnnealone,"saidOliverSloane."ShecantalkJudsonoverif

anybodycan."Anneprotested.Shewaswillingtogoanddothetalking;butshemusthave

otherswithher"formoralsupport."DianaandJanewerethereforeappointedto supporthermorally and the Improversbrokeup,buzzing likeangrybeeswith indignation. Anne was so worried that she didn't sleep until nearlymorning, and then shedreamed that the trustees hadput a fence around theschoolandpainted"TryPurplePills"alloverit.Thecommitteewaitedon JudsonParker thenext afternoon.Annepleaded

eloquently against his nefarious design and Jane and Diana supported hermorally andvaliantly. Judsonwas sleek, suave, flattering;paid themseveralcompliments of the delicacy of sunflowers; felt real bad to refuse suchcharming young ladies . . . but businesswas business; couldn't afford to letsentimentstandinthewaythesehardtimes."ButI'lltellwhatIWILLdo,"hesaid,withatwinkleinhislight,fulleyes.

"I'lltelltheagenthemustuseonlyhandsome,tastycolors...redandyellowandsoon.I'lltellhimhemustn'tpainttheadsBLUEonanyaccount."Thevanquishedcommitteeretired,thinkingthingsnotlawfultobeuttered.

"WehavedoneallwecandoandmustsimplytrusttheresttoProvidence,"saidJane,withanunconsciousimitationofMrs.Lynde'stoneandmanner."IwonderifMr.Allancoulddoanything,"reflectedDiana.Anneshookherhead."No,it'snousetoworryMr.Allan,especiallynowwhenthebaby'ssosick.

Judsonwouldslipawayfromhimassmoothlyasfromus,althoughheHAStaken to going to church quite regularly just now. That is simply becauseLouisaSpencer'sfatherisanelderandveryparticularaboutsuchthings.""JudsonParkeristheonlymaninAvonleawhowoulddreamofrentinghis

fences," said Jane indignantly. "EvenLeviBoulter orLorenzoWhitewouldneverstooptothat,tightfistedastheyare.Theywouldhavetoomuchrespectforpublicopinion."PublicopinionwascertainlydownonJudsonParkerwhenthefactsbecame

known, but that did not helpmattersmuch. Judson chuckled to himself anddefied it, and the Improvers were trying to reconcile themselves to theprospect of seeing the prettiest part of the Newbridge road defaced byadvertisements,whenAnne rose quietly at the president's call for reports ofcommitteesontheoccasionofthenextmeetingoftheSociety,andannouncedthatMr. JudsonParker had instructedher to inform theSociety that hewasNOTgoingtorenthisfencestothePatentMedicineCompany.Jane and Diana stared as if they found it hard to believe their ears.

Parliamentary etiquette, which was generally very strictly enforced in theA.V.I.S., forbade them giving instant vent to their curiosity, but after theSociety adjourned Anne was besieged for explanations. Anne had noexplanation to give. Judson Parker had overtaken her on the road theprecedingeveningandtoldherthathehaddecidedtohumortheA.V.I.S.initspeculiarprejudiceagainstpatentmedicineadvertisements.ThatwasallAnnewouldsay,thenoreverafterwards,anditwasthesimpletruth;butwhenJaneAndrews, on her way home, confided to Oliver Sloane her firm belief thattherewasmorebehindJudsonParker'smysteriouschangeofheartthanAnneShirleyhadrevealed,shespokethetruthalso.Annehadbeendown tooldMrs. Irving'son the shore road thepreceding

eveningandhadcomehomebyashortcutwhichledherfirstover thelow-lyingshorefields,andthenthroughthebeechwoodbelowRobertDickson's,byalittlefootpaththatranouttothemainroadjustabovetheLakeofShiningWaters...knowntounimaginativepeopleasBarry'spond.Twomenweresittingintheirbuggies,reinedofftothesideoftheroad,just

at the entrance of the path. One was Judson Parker; the other was JerryCorcoran, aNewbridgeman againstwhom, asMrs. Lyndewould have toldyou in eloquent italics, nothing shady had ever been PROVED.Hewas anagent for agricultural implements and a prominent personage in matters

political.Hehadafinger. . .somepeoplesaidALLhisfingers. . .ineverypolitical pie that was cooked; and as Canada was on the eve of a generalelectionJerryCorcoranhadbeenabusymanformanyweeks,canvassingthecounty in the interests of his party's candidate. Just as Anne emerged fromunder theoverhangingbeechboughs sheheardCorcoran say, "Ifyou'll voteforAmesbury,Parker...well,I'veanoteforthatpairofharrowsyou'vegotinthespring.Isupposeyouwouldn'tobjecttohavingitback,eh?""We . . . ll, since you put it in thatway," drawled Judsonwith a grin, "I

reckonImightaswelldoit.Amanmustlookoutforhisowninterestsinthesehardtimes."Both saw Anne at this moment and conversation abruptly ceased. Anne

bowed frostily andwalkedon,withher chin slightlymore tilted thanusual.SoonJudsonParkerovertookher."Havealift,Anne?"heinquiredgenially."Thankyou,no,"saidAnnepolitely,butwithafine,needle-likedisdainin

hervoicethatpiercedevenJudsonParker'snonetoosensitiveconsciousness.His face reddened and he twitched his reins angrily; but the next secondprudential considerations checked him. He looked uneasily at Anne, as shewalkedsteadilyon,glancingneithertotherightnortotheleft.HadsheheardCorcoran's unmistakable offer and his own too plain acceptance of it?Confound Corcoran! If he couldn't put his meaning into less dangerousphraseshe'dget into trouble someof these long-come-shorts.Andconfoundredheaded school-ma'amswith ahabit ofpoppingoutofbeechwoodswheretheyhadnobusinesstobe.IfAnnehadheard,JudsonParker,measuringhercorninhisownhalfbushel,asthecountrysayingwent,andcheatinghimselfthereby, as such people generally do, believed that shewould tell it far andwide. Now, Judson Parker, as has been seen, was not overly regardful ofpublicopinion;buttobeknownashavingacceptedabribewouldbeanastything;andifiteverreachedIsaacSpencer'searsfarewellforevertoallhopeofwinningLouisaJanewithhercomfortableprospectsastheheiressofawell-to-dofarmer.JudsonParkerknewthatMr.Spencerlookedsomewhataskanceathimasitwas;hecouldnotaffordtotakeanyrisks."Ahem . . .Anne, I'vebeenwanting toseeyouabout that littlematterwe

were discussing the other day. I've decided not to let my fences to thatcompanyafterall.Asocietywithanaimlikeyoursoughttobeencouraged."Annethawedoutthemeresttrifle."Thankyou,"shesaid."And...and...youneedn'tmentionthatlittleconversationofminewith

Jerry.""Ihavenointentionofmentioningit inanycase,"saidAnneicily,forshe

wouldhave seenevery fence inAvonleapaintedwithadvertisementsbefore

shewouldhavestoopedtobargainwithamanwhowouldsellhisvote."Just so . . . just so," agreed Judson, imagining that they understood each

otherbeautifully."Ididn'tsupposeyouwould.Ofcourse,IwasonlystringingJerry...hethinkshe'ssoall-firedcuteandsmart.I'venointentionofvotingforAmesbury.I'mgoingtovoteforGrantasI'vealwaysdone. . .you'llseethatwhentheelectioncomesoff.IjustledJerryontoseeifhewouldcommithimself.Andit'sallrightaboutthefence...youcantelltheImproversthat.""Ittakesallsortsofpeopletomakeaworld,asI'veoftenheard,butIthink

therearesomewhocouldbespared,"Annetoldherreflectionintheeastgablemirror thatnight. "Iwouldn'thavementioned thedisgraceful thing toa soulanyhow,somyconscienceisclearonTHATscore.Ireallydon'tknowwhoorwhatistobethankedforthis.Ididnothingtobringitabout,andit'shardtobelievethatProvidenceeverworksbymeansofthekindofpoliticsmenlikeJudsonParkerandJerryCorcoranhave."

XVTheBeginningofVacation

Anne locked the schoolhouse door on a still, yellow evening, when thewindswere purring in the spruces around the playground, and the shadowswere longand lazyby theedgeof thewoods.Shedropped thekey intoherpocketwitha sighof satisfaction.Theschoolyearwasended, shehadbeenreengaged for thenext,withmany expressionsof satisfaction. . . . onlyMr.Harmon Andrews told her she ought to use the strap oftener . . . and twodelightfulmonthsofawell-earnedvacationbeckonedherinvitingly.Annefeltat peace with the world and herself as she walked down the hill with herbasketofflowersinherhand.SincetheearliestmayflowersAnnehadnevermissedherweeklypilgrimagetoMatthew'sgrave.EveryoneelseinAvonlea,except Marilla, had already forgotten quiet, shy, unimportant MatthewCuthbert;buthismemorywasstillgreeninAnne'sheartandalwayswouldbe.Shecouldneverforgetthekindoldmanwhohadbeenthefirsttogivehertheloveandsympathyherstarvedchildhoodhadcraved.At the footof thehillaboywassittingon the fence in theshadowof the

spruces . . . a boywithbig, dreamyeyes andabeautiful, sensitive face.Heswungdownand joinedAnne, smiling;but therewere tracesof tearsonhischeeks."I thoughtI'dwait foryou, teacher,becauseIknewyouweregoing to the

graveyard,"hesaid,slippinghishandintohers."I'mgoingthere,too...I'mtaking this bouquet of geraniums to put on Grandpa Irving's grave for

grandma.Andlook,teacher,I'mgoingtoputthisbunchofwhiterosesbesideGrandpa'sgrave inmemoryofmy littlemother. . .because Ican'tgo tohergrave to put it there. But don't you think she'll know all about it, just thesame?""Yes,Iamsureshewill,Paul.""Yousee,teacher,it'sjustthreeyearstodaysincemylittlemotherdied.It's

suchalong,longtimebutithurtsjustasmuchasever...andImissherjustasmuchasever.SometimesitseemstomethatIjustcan'tbearit,ithurtsso."Paul's voice quivered and his lip trembled. He looked down at his roses,

hopingthathisteacherwouldnotnoticethetearsinhiseyes."Andyet,"saidAnne,verysoftly,"youwouldn'twantittostophurting

...youwouldn'twanttoforgetyourlittlemotherevenifyoucould."

"No, indeed, I wouldn't . . . that's just the way I feel. You're so good atunderstanding, teacher. Nobody else understands so well . . . not evengrandma,althoughshe'ssogoodtome.Fatherunderstoodprettywell,butstillI couldn't talkmuch to himaboutmother, because itmadehim feel sobad.WhenheputhishandoverhisfaceIalwaysknewitwas timetostop.Poorfather,hemustbedreadfullylonesomewithoutme;butyouseehehasnobodybut ahousekeepernowandhe thinkshousekeepers arenogood tobringuplittle boys, especially when he has to be away from home so much onbusiness. Grandmothers are better, next to mothers. Someday, when I'mbroughtup,I'llgobacktofatherandwe'renevergoingtobepartedagain."PaulhadtalkedsomuchtoAnneabouthismotherandfatherthatshefeltas

ifshehadknownthem.Shethoughthismothermusthavebeenverylikewhathe was himself, in temperament and disposition; and she had an idea thatStephenIrvingwasaratherreservedmanwithadeepandtendernaturewhichhekepthiddenscrupulouslyfromtheworld."Father'snotveryeasytogetacquaintedwith,"Paulhadsaidonce."Inever

got really acquainted with him until after my little mother died. But he'ssplendidwhenyoudoget toknowhim.I lovehimthebest inall theworld,andGrandmaIrvingnext,andthenyou,teacher.I'dloveyounexttofatherifitwasn'tmyDUTYtoloveGrandmaIrvingbest,becauseshe'sdoingsomuchforme.YOUknow,teacher.IwishshewouldleavethelampinmyroomtillIgotosleep,though.Shetakesitrightoutassoonasshetucksmeupbecauseshe says Imustn't be a coward. I'mNOT scared, but I'dRATHERhave thelight.My littlemotherusedalways to sitbesidemeandholdmyhand till Iwenttosleep.Iexpectshespoiledme.Mothersdosometimes,youknow."No, Anne did not know this, although shemight imagine it. She thought

sadly ofHER "littlemother," themotherwhohad thought her so "perfectlybeautiful" andwho had died so long ago andwas buried beside her boyishhusband in that unvisited grave far away. Anne could not remember hermotherandforthisreasonshealmostenviedPaul.

"Mybirthdayisnextweek,"saidPaul,astheywalkedupthelongredhill,basking in the June sunshine, "and father wrote me that he is sending mesomething that he thinks I'll like better than anything else he could send. Ibelieve it has come already, for Grandma is keeping the bookcase drawerlockedandthatissomethingnew.AndwhenIaskedherwhy,shejustlookedmysteriousandsaidlittleboysmustn'tbetoocurious.It'sveryexcitingtohavea birthday, isn't it? I'll be eleven.You'd never think it to look atme,wouldyou?GrandmasaysI'mverysmallformyageandthatit'sallbecauseIdon'teat enough porridge. I do my very best, but Grandma gives such generousplatefuls . . . there'snothingmeanaboutGrandma,Icantellyou.Eversinceyou and I had that talk about prayinggoinghome fromSundaySchool thatday,teacher...whenyousaidweoughttoprayaboutallourdifficulties...I'veprayedeverynightthatGodwouldgivemeenoughgracetoenablemetoeateverybitofmyporridgeinthemornings.ButI'veneverbeenabletodoityet, andwhether it's because I have too little grace or toomuch porridge Ireally can't decide.Grandma says fatherwas brought up on porridge, and itcertainlydidworkwellinhiscase,foryououghttoseetheshouldershehas.But sometimes," concluded Paul with a sigh and a meditative air "I reallythinkporridgewillbethedeathofme."Anne permitted herself a smile, since Paul was not looking at her. All

Avonlea knew that old Mrs. Irving was bringing her grandson up inaccordancewiththegood,old-fashionedmethodsofdietandmorals."Let us hope not, dear," she said cheerfully. "How are your rock people

comingon?DoestheoldestTwinstillcontinuetobehavehimself?""HeHASto,"saidPaulemphatically."HeknowsIwon'tassociatewithhim

ifhedoesn't.Heisreallyfullofwickedness,Ithink.""AndhasNorafoundoutabouttheGoldenLadyyet?""No;butIthinkshesuspects.I'malmostsureshewatchedmethelasttimeI

wenttothecave.Idon'tmind ifshefindsout . . . it isonlyforHERsakeIdon't want her to . . . so that her feelings won't be hurt. But if she isDETERMINEDtohaveherfeelingshurtitcan'tbehelped.""IfIweretogototheshoresomenightwithyoudoyouthinkIcouldsee

yourrockpeopletoo?"Paulshookhisheadgravely."No,Idon'tthinkyoucouldseeMYrockpeople.I'mtheonlypersonwho

canseethem.Butyoucouldseerockpeopleofyourown.You'reoneofthekindthatcan.We'reboththatkind.YOUknow,teacher,"headded,squeezingherhandchummily."Isn'titsplendidtobethatkind,teacher?""Splendid,"Anneagreed,grayshiningeyeslookingdownintoblueshining

ones.AnneandPaulbothknew"Howfairtherealm

Imaginationopenstotheview,"

andbothknew theway to thathappy land.There the roseof joybloomedimmortal by dale and stream; clouds never darkened the sunny sky; sweetbellsneverjangledoutoftune;andkindredspiritsabounded.Theknowledgeofthatland'sgeography..."easto'thesun,westo'themoon"...ispricelesslore, not to be bought in anymarket place. Itmust be the gift of the goodfairiesatbirthandtheyearscanneverdefaceitortakeitaway.Itisbettertopossessit,livinginagarret,thantobetheinhabitantofpalaceswithoutit.TheAvonlea graveyardwas as yet the grass-grown solitude it had always

been.Tobesure,theImprovershadaneyeonit,andPriscillaGranthadreadapaper on cemeteries before the last meeting of the Society. At some futuretime the Improvers meant to have the lichened, wayward old board fencereplacedbyaneatwire railing, thegrassmownand the leaningmonumentsstraightenedup.AnneputonMatthew'sgrave the flowers shehadbrought for it, and then

went over to the little poplar shaded corner where Hester Gray slept. Eversince the day of the spring picnic Anne had put flowers on Hester's gravewhen shevisitedMatthew's.Theeveningbefore shehadmadeapilgrimagebacktothelittledesertedgardeninthewoodsandbroughttherefromsomeofHester'sownwhiteroses."Ithoughtyouwouldlikethembetterthananyothers,dear,"shesaidsoftly.Annewasstillsittingtherewhenashadowfelloverthegrassandshelooked

uptoseeMrs.Allan.Theywalkedhometogether.Mrs.Allan's facewasnot the faceof thegirlbridewhom theministerhad

brought to Avonlea five years before. It had lost some of its bloom andyouthful curves, and therewere fine, patient lines about eyes andmouth.Atinygravein thatverycemeteryaccountedforsomeof them;andsomenewoneshadcomeduring the recent illness,nowhappilyover,ofher little son.ButMrs.Allan'sdimpleswereassweetandsuddenasever,hereyesasclearandbrightandtrue;andwhatherfacelackedofgirlishbeautywasnowmorethanatonedforinaddedtendernessandstrength."I suppose you are looking forward to your vacation,Anne?" she said, as

theyleftthegraveyard.Annenodded."Yes....Icouldrollthewordasasweetmorselundermytongue.Ithink

thesummerisgoingtobelovely.Foronething,Mrs.MorganiscomingtotheIslandinJulyandPriscillaisgoingtobringherup.Ifeeloneofmyold'thrills'atthemerethought.""Ihopeyou'llhaveagood time,Anne.You'veworkedveryhard thispast

yearandyouhavesucceeded.""Oh,Idon'tknow.I'vecomesofarshortinsomanythings.Ihaven'tdone

what Imeant todowhen Ibegan to teach last fall. Ihaven't livedup tomy

ideals.""None of us ever do," saidMrs.Allanwith a sigh. "But then,Anne, you

know what Lowell says, 'Not failure but low aim is crime.'We must haveidealsandtrytoliveuptothem,evenifweneverquitesucceed.Lifewouldbea sorry businesswithout them.With them it's grand and great.Hold fast toyourideals,Anne.""Ishalltry.ButIhavetoletgomostofmytheories,"saidAnne,laughinga

little. "Ihad themostbeautiful setof theoriesyoueverknewwhenIstartedoutasaschoolma'am,buteveryoneofthemhasfailedmeatsomepinchoranother.""Eventhetheoryoncorporalpunishment,"teasedMrs.Allan.ButAnneflushed."IshallneverforgivemyselfforwhippingAnthony.""Nonsense,dear,hedeserved it.Anditagreedwithhim.Youhavehadno

troublewithhimsinceandhehascometothinkthere'snobodylikeyou.Yourkindnesswonhisloveaftertheideathata'girlwasnogood'wasrootedoutofhisstubbornmind.""He may have deserved it, but that is not the point. If I had calmly and

deliberately decided towhip himbecause I thought it a just punishment forhimIwouldnotfeeloveritasIdo.Butthetruthis,Mrs.Allan,thatIjustflewintoa temperandwhippedhimbecauseof that. Iwasn't thinkingwhether itwas justorunjust . . . even ifhehadn'tdeserved it I'dhavedone it just thesame.Thatiswhathumiliatesme.""Well, we all make mistakes, dear, so just put it behind you.We should

regretourmistakesandlearnfromthem,butnevercarrythemforwardintothefuture with us. There goes Gilbert Blythe on his wheel . . . home for hisvacationtoo,Isuppose.Howareyouandhegettingonwithyourstudies?""Prettywell.WeplantofinishtheVirgil tonight . . . thereareonlytwenty

linestodo.ThenwearenotgoingtostudyanymoreuntilSeptember.""Doyouthinkyouwillevergettocollege?""Oh, I don't know."Anne lookeddreamily afar to the opal-tintedhorizon.

"Marilla'seyeswillneverbemuchbetterthantheyarenow,althoughwearesothankfultothinkthattheywillnotgetworse.Andthentherearethetwins...somehowIdon'tbelievetheirunclewilleverreallysendforthem.Perhapscollegemaybearoundthebendintheroad,butIhaven'tgottothebendyetandIdon'tthinkmuchaboutitlestImightgrowdiscontented.""Well,Ishouldliketoseeyougotocollege,Anne;butifyouneverdo,don't

bediscontentedaboutit.Wemakeourownliveswhereverweare,afterall...college can only help us to do it more easily. They are broad or narrowaccordingtowhatweputintothem,notwhatwegetout.Lifeisrichandfull

here...everywhere...ifwecanonlylearnhowtoopenourwholeheartstoitsrichnessandfulness.""IthinkIunderstandwhatyoumean,"saidAnnethoughtfully,"andIknowI

have somuch to feel thankful for . . . oh, somuch . . .mywork, andPaulIrving,andthedeartwins,andallmyfriends.Doyouknow,Mrs.Allan,I'msothankfulforfriendship.Itbeautifieslifesomuch.""True friendship is averyhelpful thing indeed," saidMrs.Allan, "andwe

shouldhaveaveryhigh idealof it,andneversully itbyanyfailure in truthand sincerity. I fear the name of friendship is often degraded to a kind ofintimacythathasnothingofrealfriendshipinit.""Yes . . . likeGertiePye's and JuliaBell's.Theyarevery intimateandgo

everywheretogether;butGertieisalwayssayingnastythingsofJuliabehindherbackandeverybodythinkssheisjealousofherbecausesheisalwayssopleased when anybody criticizes Julia. I think it is desecration to call thatfriendship. Ifwehave friendswe should lookonly for thebest in themandgivethemthebestthatisinus,don'tyouthink?Thenfriendshipwouldbethemostbeautifulthingintheworld.""FriendshipISverybeautiful,"smiledMrs.Allan,"butsomeday..."Then she paused abruptly. In the delicate, white-browed face beside her,

withitscandideyesandmobilefeatures,therewasstillfarmoreofthechildthanofthewoman.Anne'sheartsofarharboredonlydreamsoffriendshipandambition, andMrs. Allan did not wish to brush the bloom from her sweetunconsciousness.Soshelefthersentenceforthefutureyearstofinish.

XVITheSubstanceofThingsHopedFor

"Anne,"saidDavyappealingly,scramblingupontheshiny,leather-coveredsofaintheGreenGableskitchen,whereAnnesat,readingaletter,"Anne,I'mAWFULhungry.You'venoidea.""I'llgetyouapieceofbreadandbutterinaminute,"saidAnneabsently.Her

letterevidentlycontainedsomeexcitingnews,forhercheekswereaspinkastherosesonthebigbushoutside,andhereyeswereasstarryasonlyAnne'seyescouldbe."But I ain't bread and butter hungry," saidDavy in a disgusted tone. "I'm

plumcakehungry.""Oh,"laughedAnne,layingdownherletterandputtingherarmaboutDavy

to give him a squeeze, "that's a kind of hunger that can be endured verycomfortably, Davy-boy. You know it's one of Marilla's rules that you can't

haveanythingbutbreadandbutterbetweenmeals.""Well,gimmeapiecethen...please."Davyhadbeenatlasttaughttosay"please,"buthegenerallytackeditonas

anafterthought.HelookedwithapprovalatthegeneroussliceAnnepresentlybroughttohim."Youalwaysputsuchanicelotofbutteronit,Anne.Marillaspreadsitprettythin.Itslipsdownaloteasierwhenthere'splentyofbutter."The slice "slipped down" with tolerable ease, judging from its rapid

disappearance.Davyslidheadfirstoffthesofa,turnedadoublesomersaultontherug,andthensatupandannounceddecidedly,"Anne,I'vemadeupmymindaboutheaven.Idon'twanttogothere.""Whynot?"askedAnnegravely."Cause heaven is in Simon Fletcher's garret, and I don't like Simon

Fletcher.""Heavenin...SimonFletcher'sgarret!"gaspedAnne,tooamazedevento

laugh."DavyKeith,whateverputsuchanextraordinaryideaintoyourhead?""MiltyBoultersaysthat'swhereitis.ItwaslastSundayinSundaySchool.

The lessonwas aboutElijah andElisha, and I up and askedMissRogersonwhere heaven was. Miss Rogerson looked awful offended. She was crossanyhow,becausewhenshe'daskeduswhatElijahleftElishawhenhewenttoheavenMiltyBoultersaid, 'Hisoldclo'es,'andusfellowsall laughedbeforewethought.Iwishyoucouldthinkfirstanddothingsafterwards,'causethenyou wouldn't do them. But Milty didn't mean to be disrespeckful. He justcouldn'tthinkofthenameofthething.MissRogersonsaidheavenwaswhereGodwasandIwasn'ttoaskquestionslikethat.Miltynudgedmeandsaidinawhisper,'Heaven'sinUncleSimon'sgarretandI'llesplainaboutitontheroadhome.' Sowhenwewas cominghomehe esplained.Milty's a great hand atesplainingthings.Evenifhedon'tknowanythingaboutathinghe'llmakeupalotofstuffandsoyougetitesplainedallthesame.HismotherisMrs.Simon'ssisterandhewentwithher to the funeralwhenhiscousin, JaneEllen,died.Theministersaidshe'dgonetoheaven,thoughMiltysaysshewaslyingrightbeforetheminthecoffin.Buthes'posedtheycarriedthecoffintothegarretafterwards.Well,whenMiltyandhismotherwentupstairsafteritwasallovertogetherbonnetheaskedherwhereheavenwasthatJaneEllenhadgoneto,and she pointed right to the ceiling and said, 'Up there.' Milty knew therewasn't anythingbut the garret over the ceiling, so that's howHE foundout.Andhe'sbeenawfulscaredtogotohisUncleSimon'seversince."Anne took Davy on her knee and did her best to straighten out this

theological tanglealso.Shewasmuchbetter fitted for the task thanMarilla,forsherememberedherownchildhoodandhadan instinctiveunderstandingofthecuriousideasthatseven-year-oldssometimesgetaboutmattersthatare,ofcourse,veryplainandsimpletogrownuppeople.Shehadjustsucceededin

convincing Davy that heaven was NOT in Simon Fletcher's garret whenMarillacameinfromthegarden,wheresheandDorahadbeenpickingpeas.Dorawasanindustriouslittlesoulandneverhappierthanwhen"helping"invarioussmalltaskssuitedtoherchubbyfingers.Shefedchickens,pickedupchips, wiped dishes, and ran errands galore. She was neat, faithful andobservant;sheneverhadtobetoldhowtodoathingtwiceandneverforgotany of her little duties. Davy, on the other hand, was rather heedless andforgetful;buthehadthebornknackofwinninglove,andevenyetAnneandMarillalikedhimthebetter.WhileDoraproudlyshelledthepeasandDavymadeboatsofthepods,with

masts ofmatches and sails of paper,Anne toldMarilla about thewonderfulcontentsofherletter."Oh,Marilla,whatdoyouthink?I'vehadaletterfromPriscillaandshesays

thatMrs.MorganisontheIsland,andthatifitisfineThursdaytheyaregoingtodriveuptoAvonleaandwillreachhereabouttwelve.TheywillspendtheafternoonwithusandgotothehotelatWhiteSandsintheevening,becausesomeofMrs.Morgan'sAmericanfriendsarestayingthere.Oh,Marilla,isn'titwonderful?IcanhardlybelieveI'mnotdreaming.""I daresay Mrs. Morgan is a lot like other people," said Marilla drily,

although she did feel a trifle excited herself. Mrs. Morgan was a famouswomanandavisitfromherwasnocommonplaceoccurrence."They'llbeheretodinner,then?""Yes;andoh,Marilla,mayIcookeverybitofthedinnermyself?Iwantto

feel that I cando something for theauthorof 'TheRosebudGarden,' if it isonlytocookadinnerforher.Youwon'tmind,willyou?""Goodness,I'mnotsofondofstewingoverahotfireinJulythat itwould

vexmeverymuch tohave someoneelsedo it.You'requitewelcome to thejob.""Oh, thankyou," saidAnne,as ifMarillahad justconferreda tremendous

favor,"I'llmakeoutthemenuthisverynight.""You'd better not try to put on too much style," warned Marilla, a little

alarmedbythehigh-flownsoundof'menu.'"You'lllikelycometogriefifyoudo.""Oh, I'mnotgoing toputonany 'style,' if youmean trying todoorhave

thingswedon'tusuallyhaveonfestaloccasions,"assuredAnne."Thatwouldbeaffectation,and,althoughIknowIhaven'tasmuchsenseandsteadinessasa girl of seventeen and a schoolteacher ought to have, I'm not so silly asTHAT.But Iwant to have everything as nice anddainty as possible.Davy-boy,don't leavethosepeapodsonthebackstairs . . .someonemightsliponthem. I'll have a light soup to beginwith . . . you know I canmake lovelycream-of-onion soup . . . and thena coupleof roast fowls. I'll have the two

white roosters. I have real affection for those roosters and they'vebeenpetsever since the gray hen hatched out just the two of them . . . little balls ofyellow down. But I know they would have to be sacrificed sometime, andsurelytherecouldn'tbeaworthieroccasionthanthis.Butoh,Marilla,Icannotkill them . . . not even forMrs.Morgan's sake. I'll have to ask JohnHenryCartertocomeoveranddoitforme.""I'll do it,"volunteeredDavy, "ifMarilla'll hold themby the legs, 'cause I

guess it'd takebothmyhands tomanage the axe. It's awful jolly fun to seethemhoppingaboutaftertheirheadsarecutoff.""ThenI'llhavepeasandbeansandcreamedpotatoesandalettucesalad,for

vegetables,"resumedAnne,"andfordessert,lemonpiewithwhippedcream,and coffee and cheese and lady fingers. I'll make the pies and lady fingerstomorrowanddoupmywhitemuslindress.AndImusttellDianatonight,forshe'llwanttodouphers.Mrs.Morgan'sheroinesarenearlyalwaysdressedinwhitemuslin, andDiana and I have always resolved that thatwaswhatwewouldwear ifwe evermether. Itwill be such adelicate compliment, don'tyouthink?Davy,dear,youmustn'tpokepeapodsintothecracksofthefloor.ImustaskMr.andMrs.AllanandMissStacytodinner,too,forthey'reallveryanxioustomeetMrs.Morgan.It'ssofortunateshe'scomingwhileMissStacyishere.Davydear,don'tsailthepeapodsinthewaterbucket...goouttothetrough.Oh, Idohope itwillbe fineThursday,andI think itwill, forUncleAbesaidlastnightwhenhecalledatMr.Harrison's,thatitwasgoingtorainmostofthisweek.""That'sagoodsign,"agreedMarilla.Anne ran across toOrchard Slope that evening to tell the news toDiana,

whowasalsoverymuchexcitedoverit,andtheydiscussedthematterinthehammockswungunderthebigwillowintheBarrygarden."Oh,Anne,mayn'tIhelpyoucookthedinner?"imploredDiana."Youknow

Icanmakesplendidlettucesalad.""Indeedyou,may"saidAnneunselfishly."AndIshallwantyoutohelpme

decoratetoo.ImeantohavetheparlorsimplyaBOWERofblossoms...andthediningtableistobeadornedwithwildroses.Oh,Idohopeeverythingwillgosmoothly.Mrs.Morgan'sheroinesNEVERgetintoscrapesoraretakenatadisadvantage, and they are always so selfpossessed and such goodhousekeepers.TheyseemtobeBORNgoodhousekeepers.YourememberthatGertrude in 'EdgewoodDays' kept house for her father when shewas onlyeightyearsold.WhenIwaseightyearsoldIhardlyknewhowtodoathingexceptbringupchildren.Mrs.Morganmustbeanauthorityongirlswhenshehaswrittensomuchaboutthem,andIdowanthertohaveagoodopinionofus.I'veimagineditalloutadozendifferentways...whatshe'lllooklike,andwhatshe'llsay,andwhatI'llsay.AndI'msoanxiousaboutmynose.Thereare

sevenfrecklesonit,asyoucansee.TheycameattheA.V.IS.picnic,whenIwent around in the sun without my hat. I suppose it's ungrateful of me toworry over them,when I should be thankful they're not spread all overmyfaceastheyoncewere;butIdowishtheyhadn'tcome...allMrs.Morgan'sheroineshave suchperfect complexions. I can't recall a freckledoneamongthem.""Yoursarenotverynoticeable,"comfortedDiana."Tryalittlelemonjuice

onthemtonight."ThenextdayAnnemadeherpiesandladyfingers,diduphermuslindress,

and swept and dusted every room in the house . . . a quite unnecessaryproceeding, for Green Gables was, as usual, in the apple pie order dear toMarilla'sheart.ButAnnefeltthatafleckofdustwouldbeadesecrationinahousethatwastobehonoredbyavisitfromCharlotteE.Morgan.Sheevencleanedoutthe"catch-all"closetunderthestairs,althoughtherewasnottheremotestpossibilityofMrs.Morgan'sseeingitsinterior."But Iwant toFEEL that it is inperfectorder, even if she isn't to see it,"

AnnetoldMarilla."Youknow,inherbook'GoldenKeys,'shemakeshertwoheroinesAliceandLouisatakefortheirmottothatverseofLongfellow's,

'Intheelderdaysofart

Builderswroughtwithgreatestcare

Eachminuteandunseenpart,

Forthegodsseeeverywhere,'

and so they always kept their cellar stairs scrubbed and never forgot tosweepunderthebeds.IshouldhaveaguiltyconscienceifIthoughtthisclosetwas in disorder when Mrs. Morgan was in the house. Ever since we read'GoldenKeys,'lastApril,DianaandIhavetakenthatverseforourmottotoo."ThatnightJohnHenryCarterandDavybetweenthemcontrivedtoexecute

the twowhite roosters, and Anne dressed them, the usually distasteful taskglorifiedinhereyesbythedestinationoftheplumpbirds."Idon'tlikepickingfowls,"shetoldMarilla,"butisn'titfortunatewedon't

have to put our souls intowhat our handsmay be doing? I've been pickingchickenswithmyhandsbutinimaginationI'vebeenroamingtheMilkyWay.""Ithoughtyou'dscatteredmorefeathersoverthefloorthanusual,"remarked

Marilla.ThenAnneputDavy tobedandmadehimpromise thathewouldbehave

perfectlythenextday."IfI'masgoodasgoodcanbealldaytomorrowwillyouletmebejustas

badasIlikeallthenextday?"askedDavy."Icouldn'tdo that,"saidAnnediscreetly,"but I'll takeyouandDorafora

row in the flat right to the bottom of the pond, andwe'll go ashore on thesandhillsandhaveapicnic.""It'sabargain,"saidDavy."I'llbegood,youbet.ImeanttogoovertoMr.

Harrison'sandfirepeasfrommynewpopgunatGingerbutanotherday'lldoaswell.IespectitwillbejustlikeSunday,butapicnicattheshore'llmakeupforTHAT."

XVIIAChapterofAccidents

Annewokethreetimesinthenightandmadepilgrimagestoherwindowtomake sure that Uncle Abe's prediction was not coming true. Finally themorningdawnedpearlyandlustrousinaskyfullofsilversheenandradiance,andthewonderfuldayhadarrived.Dianaappearedsoonafterbreakfast,withabasketofflowersoveronearm

andHERmuslindressovertheother...foritwouldnotdotodonituntilallthe dinner preparationswere completed.Meanwhile shewore her afternoonpinkprintandalawnapronfearfullyandwonderfullyruffledandfrilled;andveryneatandprettyandrosyshewas."Youlooksimplysweet,"saidAnneadmiringly.Dianasighed."But I've had to let out every one of my dresses AGAIN. I weigh four

poundsmorethanIdidinJuly.Anne,WHEREwillthisend?Mrs.Morgan'sheroinesarealltallandslender.""Well, let's forgetour troubles and thinkofourmercies," saidAnnegaily.

"Mrs.Allansays thatwheneverwe thinkofanything that isa trial tousweshouldalsothinkofsomethingnicethatwecansetoveragainstit.Ifyouareslightlytooplumpyou'vegotthedearestdimples;andifIhaveafrecklednosetheSHAPEofitisallright.Doyouthinkthelemonjuicedidanygood?""Yes,Ireallythinkitdid,"saidDianacritically;and,muchelated,Anneled

theway to thegarden,whichwas fullofairyshadowsandwaveringgoldenlights."We'll decorate the parlor first.We have plenty of time, for Priscilla said

they'dbehereabout twelveorhalfpastat the latest, sowe'llhavedinneratone."There may have been two happier and more excited girls somewhere in

CanadaortheUnitedStatesatthatmoment,butIdoubtit.Everysnipofthescissors,asroseandpeonyandbluebellfell,seemedtochirp,"Mrs.Morganiscoming today." Anne wondered howMr. Harrison COULD go on placidlymowing hay in the field across the lane, just as if nothing were going tohappen.TheparloratGreenGableswasarathersevereandgloomyapartment,with

rigidhorsehairfurniture,stifflacecurtains,andwhiteantimacassarsthatwerealwayslaidataperfectlycorrectangle,exceptatsuchtimesastheyclungtounfortunatepeople'sbuttons.EvenAnnehadneverbeenabletoinfusemuchgraceintoit,forMarillawouldnotpermitanyalterations.Butitiswonderfulwhatflowerscanaccomplishifyougivethemafairchance;whenAnneandDianafinishedwiththeroomyouwouldnothaverecognizedit.A great blue bowlful of snowballs overflowed on the polished table. The

shiningblackmantelpiecewasheapedwithrosesandferns.Everyshelfofthewhat-notheldasheafofbluebells;thedarkcornersoneithersideofthegratewerelightedupwithjarsfullofglowingcrimsonpeonies,andthegrateitselfwasaflamewithyellowpoppies.Allthissplendorandcolor,mingledwiththesunshinefallingthroughthehoneysucklevinesatthewindowsinaleafyriotof dancing shadows over walls and floor, made of the usually dismal littleroomtheveritable"bower"ofAnne'simagination,andevenextortedatributeofadmirationfromMarilla,whocameintocriticizeandremainedtopraise."Now,wemustsetthetable,"saidAnne,inthetoneofapriestessaboutto

performsomesacredrite inhonorofadivinity."We'llhaveabigvasefulofwildrosesinthecenterandonesingleroseinfrontofeverybody'splate—anda special bouquet of rosebuds only byMrs. Morgan's—an allusion to 'TheRosebudGarden'youknow."Thetablewassetinthesittingroom,withMarilla'sfinestlinenandthebest

china,glass,andsilver.Youmaybeperfectlycertainthateveryarticleplacedon itwaspolishedorscoured to thehighestpossibleperfectionofglossandglitter.Then thegirls trippedout to thekitchen,whichwas filledwithappetizing

odors emanating from the oven, where the chickens were already sizzlingsplendidly. Anne prepared the potatoes and Diana got the peas and beansready.Then,whileDianashutherselfintothepantrytocompoundthelettucesalad,Anne,whosecheekswerealreadybeginningtoglowcrimson,asmuchwithexcitementasfromtheheatofthefire,preparedthebreadsauceforthechickens,mincedheronionsfor thesoup,andfinallywhippedthecreamforherlemonpies.Andwhat aboutDavy all this time?Was he redeeming his promise to be

good?Hewas,indeed.Tobesure,heinsistedonremaininginthekitchen,forhiscuriositywantedtoseeallthatwenton.Butashesatquietlyinacorner,busilyengagedinuntyingtheknots inapieceofherringnethehadbroughthomefromhislasttriptotheshore,nobodyobjectedtothis.Athalfpasteleventhelettucesaladwasmade,thegoldencirclesofthepies

wereheapedwithwhippedcream,andeverythingwassizzlingandbubblingthatoughttosizzleandbubble."We'dbettergoanddressnow,"saidAnne,"fortheymaybeherebytwelve.

Wemusthavedinneratsharpone,forthesoupmustbeservedassoonasit'sdone."Serious indeedwere the toilet rites presently performed in the east gable.

Annepeeredanxiouslyathernoseandrejoicedtoseethatitsfreckleswerenotatallprominent,thankseithertothelemonjuiceortotheunusualflushonhercheeks.Whentheywerereadytheylookedquiteassweetandtrimandgirlishaseverdidanyof"Mrs.Morgan'sheroines.""IdohopeI'llbeable tosaysomethingonce inawhile,andnotsit likea

mute," said Diana anxiously. "All Mrs. Morgan's heroines converse sobeautifully.ButI'mafraidI'llbetongue-tiedandstupid.AndI'llbesuretosay'Iseen.'Ihaven'toftensaiditsinceMissStacytaughthere;butinmomentsofexcitement it's sure to pop out. Anne, if I were to say 'I seen' beforeMrs.MorganI'ddieofmortification.Anditwouldbealmostasbadtohavenothingtosay.""I'mnervousaboutagoodmanythings,"saidAnne,"butIdon'tthinkthere

ismuchfearthatIwon'tbeabletotalk."And,todoherjustice,therewasn't.Anneshroudedhermuslingloriesinabigapronandwentdowntoconcoct

hersoup.Marillahaddressedherselfandthetwins,andlookedmoreexcitedthanshehadeverbeenknowntolookbefore.Athalfpast twelvetheAllansandMissStacycame.EverythingwasgoingwellbutAnnewasbeginningtofeelnervous. Itwassurely timeforPriscillaandMrs.Morgan toarrive.ShemadefrequenttripstothegateandlookedasanxiouslydownthelaneaseverhernamesakeintheBluebeardstorypeeredfromthetowercasement."Supposetheydon'tcomeatall?"shesaidpiteously."Don't suppose it. Itwould be toomean," saidDiana,who, however,was

beginningtohaveuncomfortablemisgivingsonthesubject."Anne,"saidMarilla,comingoutfromtheparlor,"MissStacywantstosee

MissBarry'swillowwareplatter."Anne hastened to the sitting room closet to get the platter. She had, in

accordance with her promise to Mrs. Lynde, written to Miss Barry ofCharlottetown, asking for the loan of it. Miss Barry was an old friend ofAnne's,andshepromptlysenttheplatterout,withaletterexhortingAnnetobe very careful of it, for she had paid twenty dollars for it. The platter hadserveditspurposeattheAidbazaarandhadthenbeenreturnedtotheGreenGablescloset,forAnnewouldnottrustanybodybutherselftotakeitbacktotown.She carried the platter carefully to the front door where her guests were

enjoying the cool breeze that blewup from thebrook. Itwas examined andadmired; then, just asAnnehad taken it back intoher ownhands, a terrificcrashandclatter soundedfromthekitchenpantry.Marilla,Diana,andAnne

fledout,thelatterpausingonlylongenoughtosetthepreciousplatterhastilydownonthesecondstepofthestairs.Whentheyreachedthepantryatrulyharrowingspectaclemettheireyes...

a guilty looking small boy scrambling down from the table, with his cleanprint blouse liberally plastered with yellow filling, and on the table theshatteredremnantsofwhathadbeentwobrave,becreamedlemonpies.Davyhadfinishedravellingouthisherringnetandhadwoundthetwineinto

aball.Thenhehadgone into thepantry toput it upon the shelf above thetable,where he already kept a score or so of similar balls,which, so far ascould be discovered, served no useful purpose save to yield the joy ofpossession.Davy had to climb on the table and reach over to the shelf at adangerousangle...somethinghehadbeenforbiddenbyMarillatodo,ashehad come togrief oncebefore in the experiment.The result in this instancewasdisastrous.Davyslippedandcamesprawlingsquarelydownonthelemonpies.Hiscleanblousewasruinedforthattimeandthepiesforalltime.Itis,however,anillwindthatblowsnobodygood,andthepigwaseventuallythegainerbyDavy'smischance."DavyKeith,"saidMarilla,shakinghimbytheshoulder,"didn'tIforbidyou

toclimbuponthattableagain?Didn'tI?""Iforgot,"whimperedDavy."You'vetoldmenottodosuchanawfullotof

thingsthatIcan'trememberthemall.""Well,youmarchupstairsandstaytheretillafterdinner.Perhapsyou'llget

them sorted out in your memory by that time. No, Anne, never you mindintercedingforhim.I'mnotpunishinghimbecausehespoiledyourpies . . .thatwasanaccident.I'mpunishinghimforhisdisobedience.Go,Davy,Isay.""Ain'tItohaveanydinner?"wailedDavy."Youcancomedownafterdinnerisoverandhaveyoursinthekitchen.""Oh,allright,"saidDavy,somewhatcomforted."IknowAnne'llsavesome

nicebonesforme,won'tyou,Anne?'CauseyouknowIdidn'tmeantofallonthepies.Say,Anne, since theyARE spoiled can't I take someof thepiecesupstairswithme?""No,nolemonpieforyou,MasterDavy,"saidMarilla,pushinghimtoward

thehall."Whatshallwedofordessert?"askedAnne,lookingregretfullyatthewreck

andruin."Getoutacrockofstrawberrypreserves,"saidMarillaconsolingly."There's

plentyofwhippedcreamleftinthebowlforit."One o'clock came . . . but no Priscilla orMrs.Morgan. Anne was in an

agony.Everythingwasdonetoaturnandthesoupwasjustwhatsoupshouldbe,butcouldn'tbedependedontoremainsoforanylengthoftime.

"Idon'tbelievethey'recomingafterall,"saidMarillacrossly.AnneandDianasoughtcomfortineachother'seyes.AthalfpastoneMarillaagainemergedfromtheparlor."Girls,weMUSThavedinner.Everybodyishungryandit'snousewaiting

anylonger.PriscillaandMrs.Morganarenotcoming,that'splain,andnothingisbeingimprovedbywaiting."AnneandDianasetaboutliftingthedinner,withallthezestgoneoutofthe

performance."Idon'tbelieveI'llbeabletoeatamouthful,"saidDianadolefully."NorI.ButIhopeeverythingwillbeniceforMissStacy'sandMr.andMrs.

Allan'ssakes,"saidAnnelistlessly.WhenDianadishedthepeasshetastedthemandaverypeculiarexpression

crossedherface."Anne,didYOUputsugarinthesepeas?""Yes," saidAnne,mashing thepotatoeswith theairofoneexpected todo

herduty."Iputaspoonfulofsugarin.Wealwaysdo.Don'tyoulikeit?""ButIputaspoonfulintoo,whenIsetthemonthestove,"saidDiana.Anne dropped her masher and tasted the peas also. Then she made a

grimace."Howawful! I never dreamedyouhadput sugar in, because I knewyour

mother never does. I happened to think of it, for awonder . . . I'm alwaysforgettingit...soIpoppedaspoonfulin.""It's acaseof toomanycooks, Iguess," saidMarilla,whohad listened to

thisdialoguewitha ratherguiltyexpression. "Ididn't thinkyou'd rememberabout the sugar, Anne, for I'm perfectly certain you never did before . . .soIputinaspoonful."Theguests in theparlorheardpealafterpealof laughterfromthekitchen,

buttheyneverknewwhatthefunwasabout.Therewerenogreenpeasonthedinnertablethatday,however."Well," said Anne, sobering down again with a sigh of recollection, "we

havethesaladanyhowandIdon'tthinkanythinghashappenedtothebeans.Let'scarrythethingsinandgetitover."Itcannotbesaidthatthatdinnerwasanotablesuccesssocially.TheAllans

and Miss Stacy exerted themselves to save the situation and Marilla'scustomaryplaciditywasnotnoticeablyruffled.ButAnneandDiana,betweentheirdisappointment and the reaction from their excitementof the forenoon,could neither talk nor eat. Anne tried heroically to bear her part in theconversationforthesakeofherguests;butallthesparklehadbeenquenchedin her for the time being, and, in spite of her love for theAllans andMissStacy, shecouldn'thelp thinkinghownice itwouldbewheneverybodyhad

gone home and she could bury her weariness and disappointment in thepillowsoftheeastgable.Thereisanoldproverbthatreallyseemsattimestobeinspired..."itnever

rainsbutitpours."Themeasureofthatday'stribulationswasnotyetfull.Justas Mr. Allan had finished returning thanks there arose a strange, ominoussoundonthestairs,asofsomehard,heavyobjectboundingfromsteptostep,finishingupwithagrandsmashatthebottom.Everybodyranoutintothehall.Annegaveashriekofdismay.Atthebottomofthestairslayabigpinkconchshellamidthefragmentsof

whathadbeenMissBarry'splatter;andatthetopofthestairskneltaterrifiedDavy,gazingdownwithwide-openeyesatthehavoc."Davy," said Marilla ominously, "did you throw that conch down ON

PURPOSE?""No,Ineverdid,"whimperedDavy."Iwasjustkneelinghere,quietasquiet,

towatchyou folks through thebannisters,andmyfoot struck thatold thingandpushed it off . . . and I'mawfulhungry . . . and I dowishyou'd lick afellowandhavedonewithit, insteadofalwayssendinghimupstairstomissallthefun.""Don'tblameDavy,"saidAnne,gatheringupthefragmentswithtrembling

fingers. "Itwasmyfault. I set thatplatter thereand forgotallabout it. Iamproperlypunishedformycarelessness;butoh,whatwillMissBarrysay?""Well, you know she only bought it, so it isn't the same as if it was an

heirloom,"saidDiana,tryingtoconsole.Theguestswentawaysoonafter,feelingthatitwasthemosttactfulthingto

do, andAnne andDianawashed the dishes, talking less than they had everbeenknowntodobefore.ThenDianawenthomewithaheadacheandAnnewentwithanothertotheeastgable,whereshestayeduntilMarillacamehomefrom the post office at sunset, with a letter from Priscilla, written the daybefore.Mrs.Morgan had sprained her ankle so severely that she could notleaveherroom."Andoh,Annedear,"wrotePriscilla,"I'msosorry,butI'mafraidwewon't

getup toGreenGablesatallnow, forby the timeAunty'sankle iswellshewillhavetogobacktoToronto.Shehastobetherebyacertaindate.""Well,"sighedAnne,layingtheletterdownontheredsandstonestepofthe

back porch, where shewas sitting, while the twilight rained down out of adappled sky, "I always thought itwas toogood tobe true thatMrs.Morganshould reallycome.But there . . . that speechsoundsaspessimisticasMissElizaAndrewsandI'mashamedofmakingit.Afterall,itwasNOTtoogoodtobetrue...thingsjustasgoodandfarbetterarecomingtrueformeallthetime.AndIsupposetheeventsoftodayhaveafunnysidetoo.PerhapswhenDianaandIareoldandgrayweshallbeabletolaughoverthem.ButIfeel

that I can't expect to do it before then, for it has truly been a bitterdisappointment.""You'll probablyhave a goodmanymore andworsedisappointments than

thatbeforeyougetthroughlife,"saidMarilla,whohonestlythoughtshewasmakingacomfortingspeech."Itseemstome,Anne,thatyouarenevergoingtooutgrowyourfashionofsettingyourheartsoon thingsand thencrashingdownintodespairbecauseyoudon'tgetthem.""I know I'm toomuch inclined that,way" agreedAnne ruefully. "When I

thinksomethingniceisgoingtohappenIseemtoflyrightuponthewingsofanticipation;andthenthefirstthingIrealizeIdropdowntoearthwithathud.But really,Marilla, the flyingpart ISgloriousas longas it lasts . . . it's likesoaringthroughasunset.Ithinkitalmostpaysforthethud.""Well,maybeitdoes,"admittedMarilla."I'dratherwalkcalmlyalongand

dowithoutbothflyingandthud.Buteverybodyhasherownwayofliving...Iusedtothinktherewasonlyonerightway...butsinceI'vehadyouandthetwins to bringup I don't feel so sure of it.What are yougoing to do aboutMissBarry'splatter?""Payherbackthetwentydollarsshepaidforit,Isuppose.I'msothankfulit

wasn'tacherishedheirloombecausethennomoneycouldreplaceit.""Maybeyoucouldfindonelikeitsomewhereandbuyitforher.""I'mafraidnot.Plattersasoldas thatareveryscarce.Mrs.Lyndecouldn't

findoneanywhereforthesupper.IonlywishIcould,forofcourseMissBarrywould justas soonhaveoneplatterasanother, ifbothwereequallyoldandgenuine.Marilla,lookatthatbigstaroverMr.Harrison'smaplegrove,withallthatholyhushofsilveryskyaboutit.Itgivesmeafeelingthatislikeaprayer.Afterall,whenonecanseestarsandskieslikethat,littledisappointmentsandaccidentscan'tmattersomuch,canthey?""Where'sDavy?"saidMarilla,withanindifferentglanceatthestar."In bed. I've promised to take him and Dora to the shore for a picnic

tomorrow.Ofcourse,theoriginalagreementwasthathemustbegood.ButheTRIEDtobegood...andIhadn'tthehearttodisappointhim.""You'll drown yourself or the twins, rowing about the pond in that flat,"

grumbledMarilla."I've livedhereforsixtyyearsandI'veneverbeenon thepondyet.""Well,it'snevertoolatetomend,"saidAnneroguishly."Supposeyoucome

withustomorrow.We'llshutGreenGablesupandspendthewholedayattheshore,daffingtheworldaside.""No,thankyou,"saidMarilla,withindignantemphasis."I'dbeanicesight,

wouldn'tI,rowingdownthepondinaflat?IthinkIhearRachelpronouncingonit.There'sMr.Harrisondrivingawaysomewhere.DoyousupposethereisanytruthinthegossipthatMr.HarrisonisgoingtoseeIsabellaAndrews?"

"No,I'msurethereisn't.HejustcalledthereoneeveningonbusinesswithMr. HarmonAndrews andMrs. Lynde saw him and said she knew hewascourtingbecausehehad awhite collar on. I don't believeMr.Harrisonwillevermarry.Heseemstohaveaprejudiceagainstmarriage.""Well,youcannever tellabout thoseoldbachelors.Andifhehadawhite

collaronI'dagreewithRachelthatit lookssuspicious,forI'msureheneverwasseenwithonebefore.""Ithinkheonlyputitonbecausehewantedtoconcludeabusinessdealwith

HarmonAndrews,"saidAnne."I'veheardhimsaythat'stheonlytimeamanneedstobeparticularabouthisappearance,becauseifhelooksprosperoustheparty of the second partwon't be so likely to try to cheat him. I really feelsorryforMr.Harrison;Idon'tbelievehefeelssatisfiedwithhislife.Itmustbeverylonelytohavenoonetocareaboutexceptaparrot,don'tyouthink?ButInoticeMr.Harrisondoesn'tliketobepitied.Nobodydoes,Iimagine.""There'sGilbertcomingupthelane,"saidMarilla."Ifhewantsyoutogofor

a rowon thepondmindyouput onyour coat and rubbers.There's a heavydewtonight."

XVIIIAnAdventureontheToryRoad

"Anne," saidDavy, sitting up in bed and propping his chin on his hands,"Anne,whereissleep?Peoplegotosleepeverynight,andofcourseIknowit'stheplacewhereIdothethingsIdream,butIwanttoknowWHEREitisandhowIgetthereandbackwithoutknowinganythingaboutit...andinmynightytoo.Whereisit?"Annewaskneelingat thewestgablewindowwatching thesunsetsky that

waslikeagreatflowerwithpetalsofcrocusandaheartoffieryyellow.SheturnedherheadatDavy'squestionandanswereddreamily,

"'Overthemountainsofthemoon,

Downthevalleyoftheshadow.'"

PaulIrvingwouldhaveknownthemeaningofthis,ormadeameaningoutof it for himself, if he didn't; but practical Davy, who, as Anne oftendespairinglyremarked,hadn'taparticleofimagination,wasonlypuzzledanddisgusted."Anne,Ibelieveyou'rejusttalkingnonsense.""Ofcourse,Iwas,dearboy.Don'tyouknowthatitisonlyveryfoolishfolk

whotalksenseallthetime?""Well, I think you might give a sensible answer when I ask a sensible

question,"saidDavyinaninjuredtone."Oh,youaretoolittletounderstand,"saidAnne.Butshefeltratherashamed

of saying it; for had she not, in keen remembrance of many similar snubsadministeredinherownearlyyears,solemnlyvowedthatshewouldnevertellanychilditwastoolittletounderstand?Yethereshewasdoingit...sowidesometimesisthegulfbetweentheoryandpractice."Well, I'm doingmy best to grow," said Davy, "but it's a thing you can't

hurrymuch.IfMarillawasn'tsostingywithher jamIbelieveI'dgrowa lotfaster.""Marilla isnot stingy,Davy," saidAnne severely. "It isveryungratefulof

youtosaysuchathing.""There'sanotherwordthatmeansthesamethingandsoundsalotbetter,but

I don't just remember it," saidDavy, frowning intently. "I heardMarilla sayshewasit,herself,theotherday.""If you mean ECONOMICAL, it's a VERY different thing from being

stingy.It isanexcellent trait inapersonifsheiseconomical.IfMarillahadbeen stingy shewouldn't have taken you andDorawhen yourmother died.WouldyouhavelikedtolivewithMrs.Wiggins?""You just bet Iwouldn't!"Davywas emphatic on that point. "Nor I don't

wanttogoouttoUncleRichardneither.I'dfarratherlivehere,evenifMarillais that long-tailedwordwhen it comes to jam, 'causeYOU'RE here,Anne.Say,Anne,won'tyou tellmeastory 'foreIgo tosleep?Idon'twantafairystory.They'reallrightforgirls,Is'pose,butIwantsomethingexciting...lotsof killing and shooting in it, and a house on fire, and in'trusting things likethat."FortunatelyforAnne,Marillacalledoutatthismomentfromherroom."Anne,Diana'ssignalingatagreatrate.You'dbetterseewhatshewants."Anne ran to the east gable and saw flashes of light coming through the

twilight fromDiana'swindow in groups of five,whichmeant, according totheiroldchildishcode,"ComeoveratonceforIhavesomethingimportanttoreveal."AnnethrewherwhiteshawloverherheadandhastenedthroughtheHauntedWoodandacrossMr.Bell'spasturecornertoOrchardSlope."I've good news for you,Anne," saidDiana. "Mother and I have just got

homefromCarmody,andIsawMarySentnerfromSpencervaleinMr.Blair'sstore.ShesaystheoldCoppgirlsontheToryRoadhaveawillow-wareplatterandshethinksit'sexactlyliketheonewehadat thesupper.Shesaysthey'lllikely sell it, forMartha Copp has never been known to keep anything sheCOULD sell; but if they won't there's a platter at Wesley Keyson's atSpencervaleandsheknows they'dsell it,butshe isn't sure it's just thesamekindasAuntJosephine's.""I'll go right over toSpencervale after it tomorrow," saidAnne resolutely,

"andyoumustcomewithme.Itwillbesuchaweightoffmymind,forIhaveto go to town day after tomorrow and how can I face yourAunt Josephinewithoutawillow-wareplatter?ItwouldbeevenworsethanthetimeIhadtoconfessaboutjumpingonthespareroombed."Bothgirlslaughedovertheoldmemory...concerningwhich,ifanyofmy

readersareignorantandcurious,ImustreferthemtoAnne'searlierhistory.Thenextafternoonthegirlsfaredforthontheirplatterhuntingexpedition.It

was ten miles to Spencervale and the day was not especially pleasant fortraveling.Itwasverywarmandwindless,andthedustontheroadwassuchasmighthavebeenexpectedaftersixweeksofdryweather."Oh,Idowishitwouldrainsoon,"sighedAnne."Everythingissoparched

up.Thepoorfieldsjustseempitifultomeandthetreesseemtobestretchingouttheirhandspleadingforrain.Asformygarden,ithurtsmeeverytimeIgointoit.IsupposeIshouldn'tcomplainaboutagardenwhenthefarmers'cropsare suffering so.Mr.Harrison says his pastures are so scorched up that hispoorcowscanhardlygetabitetoeatandhefeelsguiltyofcrueltytoanimalseverytimehemeetstheireyes."AfterawearisomedrivethegirlsreachedSpencervaleandturneddownthe

"Tory"Road. . .agreen,solitaryhighwaywherethestripsofgrassbetweenthewheel tracksbore evidence to lackof travel.Alongmost of its extent itwas linedwith thick-setyoungsprucescrowdingdown to the roadway,withhereandthereabreakwherethebackfieldofaSpencervalefarmcameouttothefenceoranexpanseofstumpswasaflamewithfireweedandgoldenrod."WhyisitcalledtheToryRoad?"askedAnne."Mr.Allansaysitisontheprincipleofcallingaplaceagrovebecausethere

are no trees in it," saidDiana, "for nobody lives along the road except theCopp girls and oldMartinBovyer at the further end,who is aLiberal.TheTorygovernmentrantheroadthroughwhentheywereinpowerjusttoshowtheyweredoingsomething."Diana'sfatherwasaLiberal,forwhichreasonsheandAnneneverdiscussed

politics.GreenGablesfolkhadalwaysbeenConservatives.Finally the girls came to the old Copp homestead . . . a place of such

exceedingexternalneatness that evenGreenGableswouldhave sufferedbycontrast.Thehousewasaveryold-fashionedone,situatedonaslope,whichfact had necessitated the building of a stone basement under one end. Thehouse and out-buildings were all whitewashed to a condition of blindingperfectionandnotaweedwasvisibleintheprimkitchengardensurroundedbyitswhitepaling."The shades are all down," said Diana ruefully. "I believe that nobody is

home."Thisprovedtobethecase.Thegirlslookedateachotherinperplexity.

"Idon'tknowwhattodo,"saidAnne."IfIweresuretheplatterwastherightkindIwouldnotmindwaitinguntiltheycamehome.Butifitisn'titmaybetoolatetogotoWesleyKeyson'safterward."Dianalookedatacertainlittlesquarewindowoverthebasement."Thatisthepantrywindow,Ifeelsure,"shesaid,"becausethishouseisjust

likeUncleCharles'atNewbridge,andthatistheirpantrywindow.Theshadeisn'tdown,soifweclimbedupontheroofofthatlittlehousewecouldlookintothepantryandmightbeabletoseetheplatter.Doyouthinkitwouldbeanyharm?""No,Idon'tthinkso,"decidedAnne,afterduereflection,"sinceourmotive

isnotidlecuriosity."This important point of ethics being settled, Anne prepared to mount the

aforesaid"littlehouse,"aconstructionoflathes,withapeakedroof,whichhadin timespast served as a habitation for ducks.TheCoppgirls hadgivenupkeepingducks..."becausetheyweresuchuntidybirds"...andthehousehadnotbeeninuseforsomeyears,saveasanabodeofcorrectionforsettinghens.Although scrupulously whitewashed it had become somewhat shaky, andAnnefeltratherdubiousasshescrambledupfromthevantagepointofakegplacedonabox."I'mafraiditwon'tbearmyweight,"shesaidasshegingerlysteppedonthe

roof."Lean on the window sill," advised Diana, and Anne accordingly leaned.

Muchtoherdelight,shesaw,asshepeeredthroughthepane,awillow-wareplatter,exactlysuchasshewasinquestof,ontheshelfinfrontofthewindow.So much she saw before the catastrophe came. In her joy Anne forgot theprecarious nature of her footing, incautiously ceased to lean on thewindowsill,gaveanimpulsivelittlehopofpleasure...andthenextmomentshehadcrashedthroughtheroofuptoherarmpits,andthereshehung,quiteunabletoextricate herself. Diana dashed into the duck house and, seizing herunfortunatefriendbythewaist,triedtodrawherdown."Ow...don't,"shriekedpoorAnne."Therearesomelongsplinterssticking

intome.Seeifyoucanputsomethingundermyfeet . . . thenperhapsIcandrawmyselfup."DianahastilydraggedinthepreviouslymentionedkegandAnnefoundthat

itwasjustsufficientlyhightofurnishasecurerestingplaceforherfeet.Butshecouldnotreleaseherself."CouldIpullyououtifIcrawledup?"suggestedDiana.Anneshookherheadhopelessly."No...thesplintershurttoobadly.Ifyoucanfindanaxeyoumightchop

meout,though.Ohdear,IdoreallybegintobelievethatIwasbornunderanill-omenedstar."

Dianasearchedfaithfullybutnoaxewastobefound."I'llhavetogoforhelp,"shesaid,returningtotheprisoner."No,indeed,youwon't,"saidAnnevehemently."Ifyoudothestoryofthis

willgetouteverywhereandIshallbeashamedtoshowmyface.No,wemustjustwait until theCopp girls come home and bind them to secrecy. They'llknowwhere the axe is and getme out. I'm not uncomfortable, as long as Ikeepperfectlystill...notuncomfortableinBODYImean.IwonderwhattheCoppgirlsvalue thishouseat. I shallhave topayfor thedamageI'vedone,butIwouldn'tmindthatifIwereonlysuretheywouldunderstandmymotiveinpeepinginattheirpantrywindow.MysolecomfortisthattheplatterisjustthekindIwantandifMissCoppwillonlysellittomeIshallberesignedtowhathashappened.""What if the Copp girls don't come home until after night . . . or till

tomorrow?"suggestedDiana."If they're not back by sunset you'll have to go for other assistance, I

suppose,"saidAnnereluctantly,"butyoumustn'tgountilyoureallyhaveto.Oh dear, this is a dreadful predicament. Iwouldn'tmindmymisfortunes somuchif theywereromantic,asMrs.Morgan'sheroines'alwaysare,buttheyarealwaysjustsimplyridiculous.FancywhattheCoppgirlswillthinkwhentheydriveintotheiryardandseeagirl'sheadandshouldersstickingoutoftheroofofoneoftheirouthouses.Listen...isthatawagon?No,Diana,Ibelieveitisthunder."Thunder it was undoubtedly, and Diana, having made a hasty pilgrimage

around the house, returned to announce that a very black cloud was risingrapidlyinthenorthwest."I believewe're going to have a heavy thunder-shower," she exclaimed in

dismay,"Oh,Anne,whatwillwedo?""Wemust prepare for it," saidAnne tranquilly. A thunderstorm seemed a

trifle incomparisonwithwhathadalreadyhappened."You'dbetterdrivethehorseandbuggyintothatopenshed.Fortunatelymyparasolisinthebuggy.Here . . . takemyhatwithyou.Marilla toldmeIwasagoosetoputonmybesthattocometotheToryRoadandshewasright,asshealwaysis."Dianauntiedtheponyanddroveintotheshed,justasthefirstheavydrops

ofrainfell.Thereshesatandwatchedtheresultingdownpour,whichwassothickandheavythatshecouldhardlyseeAnnethroughit,holdingtheparasolbravelyoverherbarehead.Therewasnotagreatdealofthunder,butforthebestpartofanhour the raincamemerrilydown.OccasionallyAnneslantedback her parasol and waved an encouraging hand to her friend; Butconversation at that distancewas quite out of the question. Finally the rainceased,thesuncameout,andDianaventuredacrossthepuddlesoftheyard."Didyougetverywet?"sheaskedanxiously.

"Oh,no," returnedAnnecheerfully. "Myheadand shouldersarequitedryandmyskirtisonlyalittledampwheretherainbeatthroughthelathes.Don'tpityme,Diana,forIhaven'tmindeditatall.Ikeptthinkinghowmuchgoodtherainwilldoandhowgladmygardenmustbeforit,andimaginingwhattheflowersandbudswouldthinkwhenthedropsbegantofall.Iimaginedoutamostinterestingdialoguebetweentheastersandthesweetpeasandthewildcanaries in the lilac bush and the guardian spirit of the garden.When I gohomeImeantowrite itdown.IwishIhadapencilandpaper todoitnow,becauseIdaresayI'llforgetthebestpartsbeforeIreachhome."Dianathefaithfulhadapencilanddiscoveredasheetofwrappingpaperin

the box of the buggy.Anne folded up her dripping parasol, put on her hat,spread thewrappingpaperonashingleDianahandedup,andwroteouthergarden idylunderconditions thatcouldhardlybeconsideredas favorable toliterature. Nevertheless, the result was quite pretty, and Diana was"enraptured"whenAnnereadittoher."Oh,Anne,it'ssweet...justsweet.DOsendittothe'CanadianWoman.'"Anneshookherhead."Oh,no,itwouldn'tbesuitableatall.ThereisnoPLOTinit,yousee.It's

justastringoffancies.Ilikewritingsuchthings,butofcoursenothingofthesortwouldeverdoforpublication,foreditorsinsistonplots,soPriscillasays.Oh,there'sMissSarahCoppnow.PLEASE,Diana,goandexplain."Miss SarahCoppwas a small person, garbed in shabby black,with a hat

chosen less forvain adornment than forqualities thatwouldwearwell.Shelookedasamazedasmightbeexpectedonseeing thecurious tableau inheryard, but when she heard Diana's explanation she was all sympathy. Shehurriedlyunlocked thebackdoor,produced theaxe,andwitha fewskillfullblowssetAnnefree.Thelatter,somewhattiredandstiff,duckeddownintotheinteriorofherprisonandthankfullyemergedintolibertyoncemore."Miss Copp," she said earnestly. "I assure you I looked into your pantry

windowonlytodiscoverifyouhadawillow-wareplatter.Ididn'tseeanythingelse—Ididn'tLOOKforanythingelse.""Blessyou,that'sallright,"saidMissSarahamiably."Youneedn'tworry—

there's no harm done. Thank goodness, we Copps keep our pantriespresentable at all times and don't care who sees into them. As for that oldduckhouse,I'mgladit'ssmashed,formaybenowMarthawillagreetohavingit taken down. She never would before for fear it might come in handysometime and I've had towhitewash it every spring.But youmight aswellarguewithapostaswithMartha.Shewenttotowntoday—Idrovehertothestation.Andyouwanttobuymyplatter.Well,whatwillyougiveforit?""Twentydollars,"saidAnne,whowasnevermeant tomatchbusinesswits

withaCopp,orshewouldnothaveofferedherpriceatthestart.

"Well,I'llsee,"saidMissSarahcautiously."Thatplatterisminefortunately,orI'dneverdare tosell itwhenMarthawasn'there.Asit is, Idaresayshe'llraiseafuss.Martha'sthebossofthisestablishmentIcantellyou.I'mgettingawfultiredoflivingunderanotherwoman'sthumb.Butcomein,comein.Youmustberealtiredandhungry.I'lldothebestIcanforyouinthewayofteabut I warn you not to expect anything but bread and butter and somecowcumbers.Martha locked up all the cake and cheese and preserves aforeshewent.Shealwaysdoes,becauseshesaysI'mtooextravagantwiththemifcompanycomes."The girlswere hungry enough to do justice to any fare, and they enjoyed

MissSarah'sexcellentbreadandbutterand"cowcumbers"thoroughly.WhenthemealwasoverMissSarahsaid,"Idon'tknowasImindsellingtheplatter.Butit'sworthtwenty-fivedollars.

It'saveryoldplatter."DianagaveAnne'sfootagentlekickunderthetable,meaning,"Don'tagree

—she'llletitgofortwentyifyouholdout."ButAnnewasnotmindedtotakeany chances in regard to that precious platter. She promptly agreed to givetwenty-five andMiss Sarah looked as if she felt sorry she hadn't asked forthirty."Well,Iguessyoumayhaveit.IwantallthemoneyIcanscareupjustnow.

Thefact is—"MissSarahthrewupherheadimportantly,withaproudflushonherthincheeks—"I'mgoingtobemarried—toLutherWallace.Hewantedme twentyyears ago. I likedhim realwell but hewaspoor then and fatherpackedhimoff.Is'poseIshouldn'thavelethimgosomeekbutIwastimidandfrightenedoffather.Besides,Ididn'tknowmenweresoskurse."When the girls were safely away, Diana driving and Anne holding the

covetedplattercarefullyonherlap,thegreen,rain-freshenedsolitudesoftheToryRoadwereenlivenedbyripplesofgirlishlaughter."I'll amuse yourAunt Josephinewith the 'strange eventful history' of this

afternoonwhenIgototowntomorrow.We'vehadarathertryingtimebutit'sover now. I've got the platter, and that rain has laid the dust beautifully. So'all'swellthatendswell.'""We're not home yet," said Diana rather pessimistically, "and there's no

tellingwhatmayhappenbeforeweare.You'resuchagirltohaveadventures,Anne.""Having adventures comes natural to some people," said Anne serenely.

"Youjusthaveagiftforthemoryouhaven't."

XIX

JustaHappyDay

"Afterall,"AnnehadsaidtoMarillaonce,"Ibelievethenicestandsweetestdaysarenotthoseonwhichanythingverysplendidorwonderfulorexcitinghappensbutjustthosethatbringsimplelittlepleasures,followingoneanothersoftly,likepearlsslippingoffastring."LifeatGreenGableswasfullofjustsuchdays,forAnne'sadventuresand

misadventures,likethoseofotherpeople,didnotallhappenatonce,butweresprinkledovertheyear,withlongstretchesofharmless,happydaysbetween,filledwithworkanddreamsandlaughterandlessons.SuchadaycamelateinAugust.IntheforenoonAnneandDianarowedthedelightedtwinsdownthepondtothesandshoretopick"sweetgrass"andpaddleinthesurf,overwhichthewindwasharpinganoldlyriclearnedwhentheworldwasyoung.IntheafternoonAnnewalkeddowntotheoldIrvingplacetoseePaul.She

found him stretched out on the grassy bank beside the thick fir grove thatshelteredthehouseonthenorth,absorbedinabookoffairytales.Hesprangupradiantlyatsightofher."Oh,I'msogladyou'vecome,teacher,"hesaideagerly,"becauseGrandma's

away.You'll stayandhave teawithme,won'tyou?It'sso lonesometohavetea all by oneself. YOU know, teacher. I've had serious thoughts of askingYoungMaryJoe tositdownandeather teawithme,but IexpectGrandmawouldn't approve. She says the French have to be kept in their place. Andanyhow, it'sdifficult to talkwithYoungMaryJoe.She just laughsandsays,'Well, yous do beat all de kids I ever knowed.' That isn't my idea ofconversation.""OfcourseI'll stay to tea,"saidAnnegaily."Iwasdying tobeasked.My

mouth has been watering for some more of your grandma's deliciousshortbreadeversinceIhadteaherebefore."Paullookedverysober."If it depended on me, teacher," he said, standing before Anne with his

handsinhispocketsandhisbeautiful littlefaceshadowedwithsuddencare,"Youshouldhaveshortbreadwitharightgoodwill.ButitdependsonMaryJoe. IheardGrandma tellherbefore she left that shewasn't togivemeanyshortcakebecause itwas too rich for littleboys' stomachs.ButmaybeMaryJoewill cut some for you if I promise Iwon't eat any. Let us hope for thebest.""Yes, let us," agreedAnne,whom this cheerful philosophy suited exactly,

"and ifMary Joe proves hard-hearted and won't give me any shortbread itdoesn'tmatterintheleast,soyouarenottoworryoverthat.""You'resureyouwon'tmindifshedoesn't?"saidPaulanxiously."Perfectlysure,dearheart."

"ThenIwon'tworry,"saidPaul,withalongbreathofrelief,"especiallyasIreallythinkMaryJoewilllistentoreason.She'snotanaturallyunreasonableperson, but she has learned by experience that it doesn't do to disobeyGrandma'sorders.Grandmaisanexcellentwomanbutpeoplemustdoasshetells them. She was very much pleased with me this morning because Imanagedat last toeatallmyplatefulofporridge. Itwasagreateffortbut Isucceeded.Grandmasaysshethinksshe'llmakeamanofmeyet.But,teacher,I want to ask you a very important question. You will answer it truthfully,won'tyou?""I'lltry,"promisedAnne."Do you think I'm wrong in my upper story?" asked Paul, as if his very

existencedependedonherreply."Goodness,no,Paul,"exclaimedAnneinamazement."Certainlyyou'renot.

Whatputsuchanideaintoyourhead?""MaryJoe...butshedidn'tknowIheardher.Mrs.PeterSloane'shiredgirl,

Veronica,cametoseeMaryJoelasteveningandIheardthemtalkingin thekitchenasIwasgoingthroughthehall.IheardMaryJoesay,'DatPaul,heisdequeeres'leetleboy.Hetalksdatqueer.Itinkdere'ssometingwronginhisupper story.' I couldn't sleep last night for ever so long, thinking of it, andwondering if Mary Joe was right. I couldn't bear to ask Grandma about itsomehow,but ImadeupmymindI'daskyou. I'msogladyou thinkI'mallrightinmyupperstory.""Ofcourseyouare.MaryJoeisasilly, ignorantgirl,andyouarenever to

worryabout anything she says," saidAnne indignantly, secretly resolving togiveMrs.IrvingadiscreethintastotheadvisabilityofrestrainingMaryJoe'stongue."Well, that's aweight offmymind," said Paul. "I'm perfectly happy now,

teacher, thanks toyou. Itwouldn'tbenice tohavesomethingwrong inyourupperstory,wouldit,teacher?IsupposethereasonMaryJoeimaginesIhaveisbecauseItellherwhatIthinkaboutthingssometimes.""It isaratherdangerouspractice,"admittedAnne,outof thedepthsofher

ownexperience."Well,byandbyI'll tellyouthethoughtsItoldMaryJoeandyoucansee

foryourself if there'sanythingqueer in them," saidPaul, "but I'llwait till itbegins to get dark. That is the time I ache to tell people things, and whennobodyelseishandyIjustHAVEtotellMaryJoe.ButafterthisIwon't,ifitmakesherimagineI'mwronginmyupperstory.I'lljustacheandbearit.""AndiftheachegetstoobadyoucancomeuptoGreenGablesandtellme

your thoughts," suggested Anne, with all the gravity that endeared her tochildren,whosodearlylovetobetakenseriously."Yes, Iwill.But IhopeDavywon'tbe therewhen Igobecausehemakes

facesatme.Idon'tmindVERYmuchbecauseheissuchalittleboyandIamquiteabigone,butstillitisnotpleasanttohavefacesmadeatyou.AndDavymakessuchterribleones.SometimesIamfrightenedhewillnevergethisfacestraightened out again.Hemakes them atme in churchwhen I ought to bethinkingofsacredthings.Doralikesmethough,andIlikeher,butnotsowellasIdidbeforeshetoldMinnieMayBarrythatshemeanttomarrymewhenIgrewup.ImaymarrysomebodywhenIgrowupbutI'mfartooyoungtobethinkingofityet,don'tyouthink,teacher?""Ratheryoung,"agreedteacher."Speakingofmarrying,remindsmeofanotherthingthathasbeentroubling

meof late," continuedPaul. "Mrs.Lyndewasdownhereoneday lastweekhavingteawithGrandma,andGrandmamademeshowhermylittlemother'spicture . . . the one father sentme formy birthday present. I didn't exactlywant to show it toMrs.Lynde.Mrs.Lynde is agood,kindwoman,but sheisn'tthesortofpersonyouwanttoshowyourmother'spictureto.YOUknow,teacher.ButofcourseIobeyedGrandma.Mrs.Lyndesaidshewasveryprettybutkindof actressy looking, andmusthavebeenanawful lotyounger thanfather. Then she said, 'Some of these days your pa will be marrying againlikely. How will you like to have a new ma, Master Paul?' Well, the ideaalmosttookmybreathaway,teacher,butIwasn'tgoingtoletMrs.LyndeseeTHAT.Ijustlookedherstraightintheface...likethis...andIsaid,'Mrs.Lynde, fathermade a pretty good job of picking outmy firstmother and Icould trusthim topickout justasgoodaone thesecond time.'And ICANtrusthim,teacher.Butstill,Ihope,ifheeverdoesgivemeanewmother,he'llaskmyopinionaboutherbeforeit'stoolate.There'sMaryJoecomingtocallustotea.I'llgoandconsultwithherabouttheshortbread."Asa resultof the"consultation,"MaryJoecut theshortbreadandaddeda

dishofpreservestothebilloffare.AnnepouredtheteaandsheandPaulhadaverymerrymeal inthedimoldsittingroomwhosewindowswereopentothegulfbreezes,andtheytalkedsomuch"nonsense"thatMaryJoewasquitescandalizedandtoldVeronicathenexteveningthat"deschoolmees"wasasqueer as Paul. After tea Paul took Anne up to his room to show her hismother'spicture,whichhadbeenthemysteriousbirthdaypresentkeptbyMrs.Irving in the bookcase. Paul's little low-ceilinged roomwas a soft whirl ofruddylightfromthesunthatwassettingovertheseaandswingingshadowsfromthefirtreesthatgrewclosetothesquare,deep-setwindow.Fromoutthissoftglowandglamorshoneasweet,girlishface,withtendermothereyes,thatwashangingonthewallatthefootofthebed."That'smy littlemother," said Paulwith loving pride. "I gotGrandma to

hang it therewhere I'dsee itassoonas Iopenedmyeyes in themorning. InevermindnothavingthelightwhenIgotobednow,becauseitjustseemsasifmylittlemotherwasrightherewithme.FatherknewjustwhatIwouldlike

for a birthday present, although he never askedme. Isn't it wonderful howmuchfathersDOknow?""Yourmotherwasvery lovely,Paul,andyoulooka little likeher.Buther

eyesandhairaredarkerthanyours.""Myeyesarethesamecolorasfather's,"saidPaul,flyingabouttheroomto

heapallavailablecushionsonthewindowseat,"butfather'shair isgray.Hehaslotsofit,butitisgray.Yousee,fatherisnearlyfifty.That'sripeoldage,isn't it? But it's only OUTSIDE he's old. INSIDE he's just as young asanybody.Now,teacher,pleasesithere;andI'llsitatyourfeet.MayIlaymyheadagainstyourknee?That'sthewaymylittlemotherandIusedtosit.Oh,thisisrealsplendid,Ithink.""Now,IwanttohearthosethoughtswhichMaryJoepronouncessoqueer,"

saidAnne,pattingthemopofcurlsatherside.Paulneverneededanycoaxingtotellhisthoughts...atleast,tocongenialsouls."Ithoughtthemoutinthefirgroveonenight,"hesaiddreamily."Ofcourse

Ididn'tBELIEVEthembutITHOUGHTthem.YOUknow,teacher.AndthenIwantedtotellthemtosomebodyandtherewasnobodybutMaryJoe.MaryJoewasinthepantrysettingbreadandIsatdownonthebenchbesideherandI said, 'Mary Joe, do you knowwhat I think? I think the evening star is alighthouseonthelandwherethefairiesdwell.'AndMaryJoesaid,'Well,yousaredequeerone.Dareain'tnosuchtingasfairies.'Iwasverymuchprovoked.Of course, I knew there are no fairies; but that needn't preventmy thinkingthereis.Youknow,teacher.ButItriedagainquitepatiently.Isaid,'Wellthen,MaryJoe,doyouknowwhatI think?I thinkanangelwalksover theworldafterthesunsets...agreat,tall,whiteangel,withsilveryfoldedwings...andsingstheflowersandbirdstosleep.Childrencanhearhimiftheyknowhowtolisten.'ThenMaryJoeheldupherhandsalloverflourandsaid,'Well,yous are de queer leetle boy.Yousmakeme feel scare.'And she really didlookedscared. Iwentout thenandwhispered the restofmy thoughts to thegarden.Therewasalittlebirchtreeinthegardenanditdied.Grandmasaysthesaltspraykilledit;butIthinkthedryadbelongingtoitwasafoolishdryadwhowanderedawaytoseetheworldandgot lost.Andthelittle treewassolonelyitdiedofabrokenheart.""Andwhenthepoor, foolish littledryadgets tiredof theworldandcomes

backtohertreeHERheartwillbreak,"saidAnne."Yes; but if dryads are foolish theymust take the consequences, just as if

theywere realpeople,"saidPaulgravely."Doyouknowwhat I thinkaboutthenewmoon,teacher?Ithinkitisalittlegoldenboatfullofdreams.""Andwhenittipsonacloudsomeofthemspilloutandfallintoyoursleep.""Exactly,teacher.Oh,youDOknow.AndIthinkthevioletsarelittlesnips

of theskythatfelldownwhentheangelscutoutholesfor thestars toshine

through. And the buttercups are made out of old sunshine; and I think thesweetpeaswillbebutterflieswhentheygo toheaven.Now, teacher,doyouseeanythingsoveryqueeraboutthosethoughts?""No, laddie dear, they are not queer at all; they are strange and beautiful

thoughtsforalittleboytothink,andsopeoplewhocouldn'tthinkanythingofthe sort themselves, if they tried for a hundredyears, think themqueer.Butkeep on thinking them, Paul . . . some day you are going to be a poet, Ibelieve."When Anne reached home she found a very different type of boyhood

waitingtobeputtobed.Davywassulky;andwhenAnnehadundressedhimhebouncedintobedandburiedhisfaceinthepillow."Davy,youhaveforgottentosayyourprayers,"saidAnnerebukingly."No,Ididn'tforget,"saidDavydefiantly,"butIain'tgoingtosaymyprayers

anymore.I'mgoingtogiveuptryingtobegood,'causenomatterhowgoodIamyou'dlikePaulIrvingbetter.SoImightaswellbebadandhavethefunofit.""Idon't likePaulIrvingBETTER,"saidAnneseriously."Ilikeyoujustas

well,onlyinadifferentway.""ButIwantyoutolikemethesameway,"poutedDavy."Youcan't likedifferentpeople thesameway.Youdon't likeDoraandme

thesameway,doyou?"Davysatupandreflected."No...o...o,"headmittedatlast,"IlikeDorabecauseshe'smysisterbut

Ilikeyoubecauseyou'reYOU.""And I like Paul because he is Paul andDavy because he is Davy," said

Annegaily."Well,IkindofwishI'dsaidmyprayersthen,"saidDavy,convincedbythis

logic. "But it's toomuch bother getting out now to say them. I'll say themtwiceoverinthemorning,Anne.Won'tthatdoaswell?"No,Annewaspositiveitwouldnotdoaswell.SoDavyscrambledoutand

kneltdownatherknee.Whenhehadfinishedhisdevotionsheleanedbackonhislittle,bare,brownheelsandlookedupather."Anne,I'mgooderthanIusedtobe.""Yes,indeedyouare,Davy,"saidAnne,whoneverhesitatedtogivecredit

wherecreditwasdue."IKNOWI'mgooder,"saidDavyconfidently,"andI'lltellyouhowIknow

it.TodayMarillagivemetwopiecesofbreadandjam,oneformeandoneforDora.OnewasagooddealbiggerthantheotherandMarilladidn'tsaywhichwasmine.ButIgivethebiggestpiecetoDora.Thatwasgoodofme,wasn'tit?"

"Verygood,andverymanly,Davy.""Ofcourse,"admittedDavy,"Dorawasn'tveryhungryandsheonlyethalf

hersliceandthenshegivetheresttome.ButIdidn'tknowshewasgoingtodothatwhenIgiveittoher,soIWASgood,Anne."InthetwilightAnnesauntereddowntotheDryad'sBubbleandsawGilbert

Blythe coming down through the dusky HauntedWood. She had a suddenrealizationthatGilbertwasaschoolboynolonger.Andhowmanlyhelooked—the tall, frank-faced fellow, with the clear, straightforward eyes and thebroadshoulders.AnnethoughtGilbertwasaveryhandsomelad,eventhoughhedidn't lookatall likeher idealman.SheandDianahadlongagodecidedwhatkindofamantheyadmiredandtheirtastesseemedexactlysimilar.Hemustbeverytallanddistinguishedlooking,withmelancholy,inscrutableeyes,and a melting, sympathetic voice. There was nothing either melancholy orinscrutable in Gilbert's physiognomy, but of course that didn't matter infriendship!Gilbert stretched himself out on the ferns beside the Bubble and looked

approvinglyatAnne. IfGilberthadbeenasked todescribehis idealwomanthedescriptionwouldhave answeredpoint for point toAnne, even to thoseseventinyfreckleswhoseobnoxiouspresencestillcontinuedtovexhersoul.Gilbertwas as yet littlemore than a boy; but a boyhas his dreams as haveothers, and inGilbert's future therewas always a girlwith big, limpid grayeyes,anda faceas fineanddelicateasa flower.Hehadmadeuphismind,also,thathisfuturemustbeworthyofitsgoddess.EveninquietAvonleathereweretemptationstobemetandfaced.WhiteSandsyouthwerearather"fast"set,andGilbertwaspopularwhereverhewent.Buthemeanttokeephimselfworthy ofAnne's friendship and perhaps some distant day her love; and hewatchedoverwordandthoughtanddeedasjealouslyasifhercleareyesweretopass in judgmenton it.Sheheldoverhim theunconscious influence thatevery girl, whose ideals are high and pure, wields over her friends; aninfluencewhichwouldendureaslongasshewasfaithfultothoseidealsandwhichshewouldascertainlyloseifshewereeverfalsetothem.InGilbert'seyesAnne's greatest charmwas the fact that she never stooped to the pettypractices of so many of the Avonlea girls—the small jealousies, the littledeceitsandrivalries,thepalpablebidsforfavor.Anneheldherselfapartfromallthis,notconsciouslyorofdesign,butsimplybecauseanythingofthesortwas utterly foreign to her transparent, impulsive nature, crystal clear in itsmotivesandaspirations.ButGilbertdidnotattempttoputhisthoughtsintowords,forhehadalready

too good reason to know that Anne would mercilessly and frostily nip allattemptsatsentimentinthebud—orlaughathim,whichwastentimesworse."Youlooklikearealdryadunderthatbirchtree,"hesaidteasingly.

"Ilovebirchtrees,"saidAnne,layinghercheekagainstthecreamysatinoftheslimbole,withoneofthepretty,caressinggesturesthatcamesonaturaltoher."Thenyou'llbegladtohearthatMr.MajorSpencerhasdecidedtosetouta

row of white birches all along the road front of his farm, by way ofencouragingtheA.V.I.S.,"saidGilbert."Hewastalkingtomeaboutittoday.Major Spencer is themost progressive and public-spiritedman in Avonlea.AndMr.WilliamBellisgoingtosetoutasprucehedgealonghisroadfrontand up his lane. Our Society is getting on splendidly, Anne. It is past theexperimental stageand is anaccepted fact.Theolder folks arebeginning totakeaninterestinitandtheWhiteSandspeoplearetalkingofstartingonetoo.EvenElishaWrighthascomearoundsince thatday theAmericans fromthehotelhadthepicnicattheshore.TheypraisedourroadsidessohighlyandsaidtheyweresomuchprettierthaninanyotherpartoftheIsland.Andwhen,indue time, the other farmers follow Mr. Spencer's good example and plantornamental trees and hedges along their road fronts Avonlea will be theprettiestsettlementintheprovince.""TheAidsare talkingof takingup thegraveyard,"saidAnne,"andIhope

theywill,becausetherewillhavetobeasubscriptionforthat,anditwouldbenousefortheSocietytotryitafterthehallaffair.ButtheAidswouldneverhave stirred in the matter if the Society hadn't put it into their thoughtsunofficially.Thosetreesweplantedonthechurchgroundsareflourishing,andthetrusteeshavepromisedmethattheywillfenceintheschoolgroundsnextyear.IftheydoI'llhaveanarbordayandeveryscholarshallplantatree;andwe'llhaveagardeninthecornerbytheroad.""We've succeeded in almost all our plans so far, except in getting the old

Boulter house removed," said Gilbert, "and I've given THAT up in despair.Leviwon'thaveit takendownjust tovexus.There'sacontrarystreakinalltheBoultersandit'sstronglydevelopedinhim.""JuliaBellwants to send another committee to him, but I think the better

waywilljustbetoleavehimseverelyalone,"saidAnnesagely."And trust toProvidence, asMrs.Lynde says," smiledGilbert. "Certainly,

nomorecommittees.Theyonlyaggravatehim.JuliaBell thinksyoucandoanything, ifyouonlyhaveacommittee toattempt it.Nextspring,Anne,wemust start an agitation for nice lawns and grounds. We'll sow good seedbetimes this winter. I've a treatise here on lawns and lawnmaking and I'mgoingtoprepareapaperonthesubjectsoon.Well,Isupposeourvacationisalmost over. School opens Monday. Has Ruby Gillis got the Carmodyschool?""Yes; Priscilla wrote that she had taken her own home school, so the

CarmodytrusteesgaveittoRuby.I'msorryPriscillaisnotcomingback,but

since she can't I'm glad Ruby has got the school. She will be home forSaturdaysanditwillseemlikeoldtimes,tohaveherandJaneandDianaandmyselfalltogetheragain."Marilla, just home fromMrs. Lynde's,was sitting on the back porch step

whenAnnereturnedtothehouse."RachelandIhavedecidedtohaveourcruisetotowntomorrow,"shesaid.

"Mr.Lynde is feelingbetter thisweekandRachelwants togobeforehehasanothersickspell.""I intendtogetupextraearlytomorrowmorning,forI'veeversomuchto

do,"saidAnnevirtuously."Foronething,I'mgoingtoshiftthefeathersfrommyoldbedticktothenewone.IoughttohavedoneitlongagobutI'vejustkeptputtingitoff...it'ssuchadetestabletask.It'saverybadhabittoputoffdisagreeablethings,andInevermeantoagain,orelseIcan'tcomfortablytellmypupilsnottodoit.Thatwouldbeinconsistent.ThenIwanttomakeacakeforMr.Harrison and finishmypaperongardens for theA.V.I.S., andwriteStella,andwashandstarchmymuslindress,andmakeDora'snewapron.""Youwon'tgethalfdone,"saidMarillapessimistically."Ineveryetplanned

todoalotofthingsbutsomethinghappenedtopreventme."

XXTheWayItOftenHappens

Annerosebetimesthenextmorningandblithelygreetedthefreshday,whenthebannersof the sunrisewere shaken triumphantlyacross thepearly skies.GreenGableslayinapoolofsunshine,fleckedwiththedancingshadowsofpoplar andwillow.Beyond the landwasMr.Harrison'swheatfield, a great,windrippledexpanseofpalegold.TheworldwassobeautifulthatAnnespenttenblissfulminuteshangingidlyoverthegardengatedrinkingthelovelinessin.AfterbreakfastMarillamadereadyforherjourney.Dorawastogowithher,

havingbeenlongpromisedthistreat."Now,Davy,youtrytobeagoodboyanddon'tbotherAnne,"shestraitly

chargedhim."IfyouaregoodI'llbringyouastripedcandycanefromtown."Foralas,Marillahadstoopedtotheevilhabitofbribingpeopletobegood!"I won't be bad on purpose, but s'posen I'm bad zacksidentally?" Davy

wantedtoknow."You'llhavetoguardagainstaccidents,"admonishedMarilla."Anne,ifMr.

Shearercomestodaygetaniceroastandsomesteak.Ifhedoesn'tyou'llhavetokillafowlfordinnertomorrow."

Annenodded."I'm not going to bother cooking any dinner for just Davy and myself

today," she said. "That cold ham bonewill do for noon lunch and I'll havesomesteakfriedforyouwhenyoucomehomeatnight.""I'mgoingtohelpMr.Harrisonhauldulsethismorning,"announcedDavy.

"Heaskedme to, and Iguesshe'll askme todinner too.Mr.Harrison is anawfulkindman.He'sarealsociableman.IhopeI'llbelikehimwhenIgrowup.ImeanBEHAVElikehim...Idon'twanttoLOOKlikehim.ButIguessthere's no danger, forMrs. Lynde says I'm a very handsome child. Do yous'poseit'lllast,Anne?Iwanttoknow?"

"Idaresayitwill,"saidAnnegravely."YouAREahandsomeboy,Davy,"

...Marillalookedvolumesofdisapproval..."butyoumustliveupto

itandbejustasniceandgentlemanlyasyoulooktobe."

"AndyoutoldMinnieMayBarrytheotherday,whenyoufoundhercrying'causesomeonesaidshewasugly, that if shewasniceandkindand lovingpeoplewouldn'tmindherlooks,"saidDavydiscontentedly."Seemstomeyoucan'tgetoutofbeinggoodinthisworldforsomereasonor 'nother.YoujustHAVEtobehave.""Don'tyouwant tobegood?"askedMarilla,whohad learnedagreatdeal

buthadnotyetlearnedthefutilityofaskingsuchquestions."Yes, I want to be good but not TOO good," saidDavy cautiously. "You

don'thave tobeverygoodtobeaSundaySchoolsuperintendent.Mr.Bell'sthat,andhe'sarealbadman.""Indeedhe'snot,"saidMarilaindignantly."He is . . . he says he is himself," asseveratedDavy. "He said itwhenhe

prayed in Sunday School last Sunday. He said he was a vile worm and amiserablesinnerandguiltyoftheblackest'niquity.Whatdidhedothatwassobad,Marilla?Did he kill anybody?Or steal the collection cents? I want toknow."FortunatelyMrs.LyndecamedrivingupthelaneatthismomentandMarilla

made off, feeling that she had escaped from the snare of the fowler, andwishingdevoutlythatMr.Bellwerenotquitesohighlyfigurativeinhispublicpetitions,especiallyinthehearingofsmallboyswhowerealways"wantingtoknow."Anne,leftaloneinherglory,workedwithawill.Thefloorwasswept,the

bedsmade, thehens fed, themuslindresswashedandhungouton the line.ThenAnnepreparedforthetransferoffeathers.Shemountedtothegarretanddonnedthefirstolddressthatcametohand...anavybluecashmereshehadworn at fourteen. Itwasdecidedlyon the short side and as "skimpy" as thenotable wincey Anne had worn upon the occasion of her debut at GreenGables;butat least itwouldnotbematerially injuredbydownandfeathers.Annecompletedher toiletbytyingabigredandwhitespottedhandkerchief

that had belonged to Matthew over her head, and, thus accoutred, betookherself to the kitchen chamber, whither Marilla, before her departure, hadhelpedhercarrythefeatherbed.Acrackedmirrorhungbythechamberwindowandinanunluckymoment

Anne looked into it. There were those seven freckles on her nose, morerampant than ever, or so it seemed in the glare of light from the unshadedwindow."Oh, I forgot to rub that lotion on last night," she thought. "I'd better run

downtothepantryanddoitnow."Annehadalreadysufferedmanythingstryingtoremovethosefreckles.On

oneoccasiontheentireskinhadpeeledoffhernosebutthefrecklesremained.A few days previously she had found a recipe for a freckle lotion in amagazine and, as the ingredients were within her reach, she straightwaycompoundedit,muchtothedisgustofMarilla,whothoughtthatifProvidencehad placed freckles on your nose it was your bounden duty to leave themthere.Annescurrieddownto thepantry,which,alwaysdimfromthebigwillow

growing close to thewindow,was now almost dark by reason of the shadedrawntoexcludeflies.Annecaughtthebottlecontainingthelotionfromtheshelf and copiously anointedher nose therewithbymeansof a little spongesacredtothepurpose.Thisimportantdutydone,shereturnedtoherwork.AnyonewhohasevershiftedfeathersfromoneticktoanotherwillnotneedtobetoldthatwhenAnnefinishedshewasasighttobehold.Herdresswaswhitewithdownandfluff,andherfronthair,escapingfromunderthehandkerchief,was adornedwith a veritable halo of feathers.At this auspiciousmoment aknocksoundedatthekitchendoor."ThatmustbeMr.Shearer," thoughtAnne."I'minadreadfulmessbutI'll

havetorundownasIam,forhe'salwaysinahurry."DownflewAnnetothekitchendoor.Ifeveracharitablefloordidopento

swallow up a miserable, befeathered damsel the Green Gables porch floorshouldpromptlyhave engulfedAnne at thatmoment.On thedoorstepwerestandingPriscillaGrant,goldenandfairinsilkattire,ashort,stoutgray-hairedladyinatweedsuit,andanotherlady,tallstately,wonderfullygowned,withabeautiful, highbred face and large, black-lashed violet eyes, whom Anne"instinctively felt," as she would have said in her earlier days, to be Mrs.CharlotteE.Morgan.In thedismayof themomentone thoughtstoodout fromtheconfusionof

Anne'smindandshegraspedatitasattheproverbialstraw.AllMrs.Morgan'sheroineswerenotedfor"risingtotheoccasion."Nomatterwhattheirtroubleswere,theyinvariablyrosetotheoccasionandshowedtheirsuperiorityoverallillsoftime,space,andquantity.AnnethereforefeltitwasHERdutytoriseto

theoccasionandshedid it, soperfectly thatPriscillaafterwarddeclaredshenever admiredAnneShirleymore than at thatmoment.Nomatterwhat heroutragedfeelingswereshedidnotshowthem.ShegreetedPriscillaandwasintroduced to her companions as calmly and composedly as if shehadbeenarrayed inpurple and fine linen.Tobe sure, itwas somewhatof a shock tofind that the ladyshehad instinctively felt tobeMrs.MorganwasnotMrs.Morgan at all, but an unknownMrs. Pendexter, while the stout little gray-hairedwomanwasMrs.Morgan; but in the greater shock the lesser lost itspower.Anneusheredhergueststothespareroomandthenceintotheparlor,where she left them while she hastened out to help Priscilla unharness herhorse."It's dreadful to come upon you so unexpectedly as this," apologized

Priscilla, "but I did not know till last night that we were coming. AuntCharlotteisgoingawayMondayandshehadpromisedtospendtodaywithafriendintown.Butlastnightherfriendtelephonedtohernottocomebecausetheywerequarantinedforscarletfever.SoIsuggestedwecomehereinstead,forIknewyouwere longing toseeher.Wecalledat theWhiteSandsHotelandbroughtMrs.Pendexterwithus.Sheisafriendofaunt'sandlivesinNewYork and her husband is a millionaire. We can't stay very long, for Mrs.Pendexterhastobebackatthehotelbyfiveo'clock."SeveraltimeswhiletheywereputtingawaythehorseAnnecaughtPriscilla

lookingatherinafurtive,puzzledway."Sheneedn'tstareatmeso,"Annethoughtalittleresentfully."Ifshedoesn't

KNOWwhatitistochangeafeatherbedshemightIMAGINEit."When Priscilla had gone to the parlor, and before Anne could escape

upstairs,Dianawalkedintothekitchen.Annecaughtherastonishedfriendbythearm."DianaBarry,who do you suppose is in that parlor at this verymoment?

Mrs.CharlotteE.Morgan...andaNewYorkmillionaire'swife...andhereIamlikeTHIS...andNOTATHINGINTHEHOUSEFORDINNERBUTACOLDHAMBONE,Diana!"By this time Anne had become aware that Diana was staring at her in

preciselythesamebewilderedfashionasPriscillahaddone.Itwasreallytoomuch."Oh,Diana,don'tlookatmeso,"sheimplored."YOU,atleast,mustknow

thattheneatestpersonintheworldcouldn'temptyfeathersfromonetickintoanotherandremainneatintheprocess.""It...it...isn'tthefeathers,"hesitatedDiana."It's...it's...yournose,

Anne.""Mynose?Oh,Diana,surelynothinghasgonewrongwithit!"Annerushedtothelittlelookingglassoverthesink.Oneglancerevealedthe

fataltruth.Hernosewasabrilliantscarlet!Annesatdownonthesofa,herdauntlessspiritsubduedatlast."Whatisthematterwithit?"askedDiana,curiosityovercomingdelicacy."IthoughtIwasrubbingmyfrecklelotiononit,butImusthaveusedthat

reddyeMarillahasformarking thepatternonherrugs,"was thedespairingresponse."WhatshallIdo?""Washitoff,"saidDianapractically."Perhapsitwon'twashoff.FirstIdyemyhair;thenIdyemynose.Marilla

cutmyhairoffwhenIdyeditbutthatremedywouldhardlybepracticableinthiscase.Well,thisisanotherpunishmentforvanityandIsupposeIdeserveit. . . though there'snotmuchcomfort inTHAT. It is reallyalmostenough tomakeonebelieve in ill-luck, thoughMrs.Lyndesays there isnosuch thing,becauseeverythingisforeordained."FortunatelythedyewashedoffeasilyandAnne,somewhatconsoled,betook

herself to the east gablewhileDiana ran home.PresentlyAnne camedownagain,clothedandinherrightmind.Themuslindressshehadfondlyhopedtowear was bobbing merrily about on the line outside, so she was forced tocontentherselfwithherblacklawn.Shehadthefireonandthe teasteepingwhen Diana returned; the latter wore HER muslin, at least, and carried acoveredplatterinherhand."Mother sent you this," she said, lifting the cover and displaying a nicely

carvedandjointedchickentoAnne'sgreatfuleyes.The chicken was supplemented by light new bread, excellent butter and

cheese,Marilla's fruit cake and a dish of preserved plums, floating in theirgolden syrup as in congealed summer sunshine.Therewas abigbowlful ofpink-and-whiteastersalso,bywayofdecoration;yetthespreadseemedverymeagerbesidetheelaborateoneformerlypreparedforMrs.Morgan.Anne'shungryguests,however,didnotseemtothinkanythingwaslacking

andtheyatethesimpleviandswithapparentenjoyment.ButafterthefirstfewmomentsAnne thoughtnomoreofwhatwasorwasnotonherbillof fare.Mrs.Morgan'sappearancemightbesomewhatdisappointing,asevenherloyalworshippers hadbeen forced to admit to eachother; but sheproved to be adelightfulconversationalist.Shehadtraveledextensivelyandwasanexcellentstoryteller. She had seen much of men and women, and crystalized herexperiences intowitty little sentences andepigramswhichmadeherhearersfeelasiftheywerelisteningtooneofthepeopleincleverbooks.Butunderallhersparkletherewasastronglyfeltundercurrentoftrue,womanlysympathyand kindheartedness which won affection as easily as her brilliancy wonadmiration.Nordidshemonopolizetheconversation.Shecoulddrawothersoutasskillfullyandfullyasshecouldtalkherself,andAnneandDianafoundthemselves chattering freely to her. Mrs. Pendexter said little; she merely

smiled with her lovely eyes and lips, and ate chicken and fruit cake andpreserveswithsuchexquisitegracethatsheconveyedtheimpressionofdiningonambrosiaandhoneydew.Butthen,asAnnesaidtoDianalateron,anybodysodivinelybeautifulasMrs.Pendexterdidn'tneedtotalk;itwasenoughforherjusttoLOOK.AfterdinnertheyallhadawalkthroughLover'sLaneandVioletValeand

theBirchPath, thenback through theHauntedWood to theDryad'sBubble,where theysatdownand talked foradelightful lasthalfhour.Mrs.MorganwantedtoknowhowtheHauntedWoodcamebyitsname,andlaugheduntilshecriedwhensheheard thestoryandAnne'sdramaticaccountofacertainmemorablewalkthroughitatthewitchinghouroftwilight."Ithasindeedbeenafeastofreasonandflowofsoul,hasn'tit?"saidAnne,

whenherguestshadgoneandsheandDianawerealoneagain."Idon'tknowwhich I enjoyed more . . . listening to Mrs. Morgan or gazing at Mrs.Pendexter.Ibelievewehadanicertimethanifwe'dknowntheywerecomingandbeencumberedwithmuchserving.Youmuststaytoteawithme,Diana,andwe'lltalkitallover.""Priscilla says Mrs. Pendexter's husband's sister is married to an English

earl;andyetshetookasecondhelpingoftheplumpreserves,"saidDiana,asifthetwofactsweresomehowincompatible."I daresay even the English earl himself wouldn't have turned up his

aristocraticnoseatMarilla'splumpreserves,"saidAnneproudly.Annedid notmention themisfortunewhichhadbefallenHERnosewhen

sherelatedtheday'shistorytoMarillathatevening.Butshetookthebottleoffrecklelotionandemptieditoutofthewindow."I shallnever tryanybeautifyingmessesagain," she said,darkly resolute.

"They may do for careful, deliberate people; but for anyone so hopelesslygiven over tomakingmistakes as I seem to be it's tempting fate tomeddlewiththem."

XXISweetMissLavendar

School opened and Anne returned to her work, with fewer theories butconsiderablymore experience. She had several new pupils, six- and seven-year-olds just venturing, round-eyed, into a world of wonder. Among themwereDavy andDora.Davy satwithMilty Boulter,who had been going toschoolforayearandwasthereforequiteamanoftheworld.Dorahadmadeacompact at SundaySchool the previousSunday to sitwithLily Sloane; but

LilySloanenotcomingthefirstday,shewastemporarilyassignedtoMirabelCotton,whowas tenyearsoldand therefore, inDora'seyes,oneof the"biggirls.""Ithinkschoolisgreatfun,"DavytoldMarillawhenhegothomethatnight.

"YousaidI'dfindithardtositstillandIdid...youmostlydotellthetruth,Inotice...butyoucanwriggleyourlegsaboutunderthedeskandthathelpsalot. It'ssplendid tohavesomanyboys toplaywith. IsitwithMiltyBoulterandhe's fine.He's longer thanmebut I'mwider. It'snicer to sit in thebackseatsbutyoucan'tsittheretillyourlegsgrowlongenoughtotouchthefloor.MiltydrawedapictureofAnneonhisslateanditwasawfuluglyandItoldhimifhemadepicturesofAnnelikethatI'dlickhimatrecess.IthoughtfirstI'ddrawoneofhimandputhornsanda tailon it,but Iwasafraid itwouldhurt his feelings, andAnne says you should never hurt anyone's feelings. Itseemsit'sdreadfultohaveyourfeelingshurt.It'sbettertoknockaboydownthanhurthisfeelingsifyouMUSTdosomething.Miltysaidhewasn'tscaredofmebuthe'djustassooncallitsomebodyelseto'bligeme,soherubbedoutAnne'snameandprintedBarbaraShaw'sunderit.Miltydoesn't likeBarbara'causeshecallshimasweetlittleboyandonceshepattedhimonhishead."Dorasaidprimlythatshelikedschool;butshewasveryquiet,evenforher;

andwhen at twilightMarilla bade her go upstairs to bed she hesitated andbegantocry."I'm...I'mfrightened,"shesobbed."I...Idon'twanttogoupstairsalone

inthedark.""What notionhaveyougot into your headnow?"demandedMarilla. "I'm

sureyou'vegonetobedaloneallsummerandneverbeenfrightenedbefore."Dora still continued to cry, so Anne picked her up, cuddled her

sympathetically,andwhispered,"TellAnneallaboutit,sweetheart.Whatareyoufrightenedof?""Of. . .ofMirabelCotton'suncle,"sobbedDora."MirabelCottontoldme

allaboutherfamilytodayinschool.Nearlyeverybodyinherfamilyhasdied...allhergrandfathersandgrandmothersandeversomanyunclesandaunts.Theyhaveahabitofdying,Mirabelsays.Mirabel'sawfulproudofhavingsomanydeadrelations,andshetoldmewhattheyalldiedof,andwhattheysaid,andhowtheylookedintheircoffins.AndMirabelsaysoneofheruncleswasseenwalking around the house after hewas buried.Hermother saw him. Idon'tmindtherestsomuchbutIcan'thelpthinkingaboutthatuncle."AnnewentupstairswithDoraandsatbyheruntilshefellasleep.Thenext

dayMirabel Cotton was kept in at recess and "gently but firmly" given tounderstand that when you were so unfortunate as to possess an uncle whopersisted inwalkingabouthousesafterhehadbeendecently interred itwasnot ingood taste to talkabout that eccentricgentleman toyourdeskmateof

tender years.Mirabel thought this veryharsh.TheCottonshadnotmuch toboastof.Howwasshetokeepupherprestigeamongherschoolmatesifshewereforbiddentomakecapitaloutofthefamilyghost?SeptemberslippedbyintoagoldandcrimsongraciousnessofOctober.One

FridayeveningDianacameover."I'daletterfromEllaKimballtoday,Anne,andshewantsustogooverto

tea tomorrow afternoon tomeet her cousin, IreneTrent, from town.Butwecan'tgetoneofourhorsestogo,forthey'llallbeinusetomorrow,andyourponyislame...soIsupposewecan'tgo.""Whycan'twewalk?"suggestedAnne."Ifwegostraightbackthroughthe

woodswe'llstriketheWestGraftonroadnotfarfromtheKimballplace.IwasthroughthatwaylastwinterandIknowtheroad.It'snomorethanfourmilesandwewon'thavetowalkhome,forOliverKimballwillbesuretodriveus.He'llbeonlytoogladoftheexcuse,forhegoestoseeCarrieSloaneandtheysayhisfatherwillhardlyeverlethimhaveahorse."It was accordingly arranged that they should walk, and the following

afternoon they set out, going by way of Lover's Lane to the back of theCuthbert farm, where they found a road leading into the heart of acres ofglimmeringbeech andmaplewoods,whichwere all in awondrousglowofflameandgold,lyinginagreatpurplestillnessandpeace."It'sas if theyearwerekneelingtoprayinavastcathedralfullofmellow

stained light, isn't it?" said Anne dreamily. "It doesn't seem right to hurrythroughit,doesit?Itseemsirreverent,likerunninginachurch.""WeMUSThurry though," saidDiana, glancing at herwatch. "We've left

ourselveslittleenoughtimeasitis.""Well, I'll walk fast but don't askme to talk," said Anne, quickening her

pace. "I justwant to drink the day's loveliness in . . . I feel as if shewereholding it out tomy lips like a cupof airywine and I'll take a sip at everystep."Perhaps itwas because shewas so absorbed in "drinking it in" thatAnne

took the left turningwhen theycame toa fork in the road.Sheshouldhavetakentheright,buteverafterwardshecounteditthemostfortunatemistakeofherlife.Theycameoutfinallytoalonely,grassyroad,withnothinginsightalongitbutranksofsprucesaplings."Why, where are we?" exclaimed Diana in bewilderment. "This isn't the

WestGraftonroad.""No, it's the base line road in Middle Grafton," said Anne, rather

shamefacedly."Imusthavetakenthewrongturningatthefork.Idon'tknowwhereweareexactly,butwemustbeallofthreemilesfromKimballs'still.""Thenwecan'tgettherebyfive,forit'shalfpastfournow,"saidDiana,with

adespairinglookatherwatch."We'llarriveaftertheyhavehadtheirtea,and

they'llhaveallthebotherofgettingoursoveragain.""We'dbetter turnbackandgohome,"suggestedAnnehumbly.ButDiana,

afterconsideration,vetoedthis."No,wemay aswell go and spend the evening, sincewe have come this

far."Afewyardsfurtheronthegirlscametoaplacewheretheroadforkedagain."Whichofthesedowetake?"askedDianadubiously.Anneshookherhead."Idon'tknowandwecan'taffordtomakeanymoremistakes.Hereisagate

andalaneleadingrightintothewood.Theremustbeahouseattheotherside.Letusgodownandinquire.""What a romantic old lane this it," said Diana, as they walked along its

twistsand turns. It ranunderpatriarchalold firswhosebranchesmetabove,creating a perpetual gloom in which nothing except moss could grow. Oneitherhandwerebrownwoodfloors,crossedhereandtherebyfallenlancesofsunlight.Allwas very still and remote, as if theworld and the cares of theworldwerefaraway."Ifeelasifwewerewalkingthroughanenchantedforest,"saidAnneina

hushedtone."Doyousupposewe'lleverfindourwaybacktotherealworldagain,Diana?Weshallpresentlycometoapalacewithaspellboundprincessinit,Ithink."Around the next turn they came in sight, not indeed of a palace, but of a

littlehousealmostassurprisingasapalacewouldhavebeeninthisprovinceof conventional wooden farmhouses, all as much alike in generalcharacteristicsasiftheyhadgrownfromthesameseed.AnnestoppedshortinraptureandDianaexclaimed,"Oh,Iknowwherewearenow.ThatisthelittlestonehousewhereMissLavendarLewislives...EchoLodge,shecallsit,Ithink. I've often heard of it but I've never seen it before. Isn't it a romanticspot?""It's the sweetest, prettiest place I ever saw or imagined," said Anne

delightedly."Itlookslikeabitoutofastorybookoradream."Thehousewasalow-eavedstructurebuiltofundressedblocksofredIsland

sandstone,withalittlepeakedroofoutofwhichpeeredtwodormerwindows,with quaint wooden hoods over them, and two great chimneys. The wholehousewascoveredwithaluxuriantgrowthofivy,findingeasyfootholdontherough stonework and turned by autumn frosts tomost beautiful bronze andwine-redtints.Beforethehousewasanoblonggardenintowhichthelanegatewherethe

girlswere standingopened.Thehousebounded it on one side; on the threeothers it was enclosed by an old stone dyke, so overgrown with moss and

grassandfernsthatitlookedlikeahigh,greenbank.Ontherightandleftthetall,darksprucesspread theirpalm-likebranchesover it;butbelowitwasalittlemeadow,greenwithcloveraftermath,slopingdownto theblueloopoftheGraftonRiver.Nootherhouseorclearingwasinsight...nothingbuthillsandvalleyscoveredwithfeatheryyoungfirs."Iwonderwhat sort of apersonMissLewis is," speculatedDiana as they

openedthegateintothegarden."Theysaysheisverypeculiar.""She'll be interesting then," said Anne decidedly. "Peculiar people are

always that at least, whatever else they are or are not. Didn't I tell youwewould come to an enchanted palace? I knew the elves hadn't wovenmagicoverthatlanefornothing.""ButMissLavendarLewisishardlyaspellboundprincess,"laughedDiana.

"She'sanoldmaid...she'sforty-fiveandquitegray,I'veheard.""Oh,that'sonlypartofthespell,"assertedAnneconfidently."Atheartshe's

youngandbeautifulstill...andifweonlyknewhowtounloosethespellshewouldstepforthradiantandfairagain.Butwedon'tknowhow...it'salwaysand only the princewho knows that . . . andMiss Lavendar's prince hasn'tcomeyet.Perhapssomefatalmischancehasbefallenhim...thoughTHAT'Sagainstthelawofallfairytales.""I'mafraidhecamelongagoandwentawayagain,"saidDiana."Theysay

sheusedtobeengagedtoStephanIrving...Paul'sfather...whentheywereyoung.Buttheyquarreledandparted.""Hush,"warnedAnne."Thedoorisopen."Thegirlspaused in theporchunder the tendrilsof ivyandknockedat the

opendoor.Therewasapatterofstepsinsideandaratheroddlittlepersonagepresentedherself...agirlofaboutfourteen,withafreckledface,asnubnose,amouthsowidethatitdidreallyseemasifitstretched"fromeartoear,"andtwolongbraidsoffairhairtiedwithtwoenormousbowsofblueribbon."IsMissLewisathome?"askedDiana."Yes,ma'am.Come in,ma'am. I'll tellMissLavendar you're here,ma'am.

She'supstairs,ma'am."Withthisthesmallhandmaidenwhiskedoutofsightandthegirls,leftalone,

looked about themwith delighted eyes. The interior of thiswonderful littlehousewasquiteasinterestingasitsexterior.Theroomhadalowceilingandtwosquare,small-panedwindows,curtained

with muslin frills. All the furnishings were old-fashioned, but so well anddaintily kept that the effectwas delicious.But itmust be candidly admittedthatthemostattractivefeature,totwohealthygirlswhohadjusttrampedfourmilesthroughautumnair,wasatable,setoutwithpalebluechinaandladenwithdelicacies,whilelittlegolden-huedfernsscatteredovertheclothgaveitwhatAnnewouldhavetermed"afestalair."

"MissLavendarmustbeexpectingcompanytotea,"shewhispered."Thereare six places set. But what a funny little girl she has. She looked like amessengerfrompixyland.Isupposeshecouldhavetoldustheroad,butIwascurioustoseeMissLavendar.S...s...sh,she'scoming."AndwiththatMissLavendarLewiswasstandinginthedoorway.Thegirls

weresosurprisedthattheyforgotgoodmannersandsimplystared.Theyhadunconsciously been expecting to see the usual type of elderly spinster asknowntotheirexperience...aratherangularpersonage,withprimgrayhairand spectacles. Nothing more unlike Miss Lavendar could possibly beimagined.Shewasa little ladywithsnow-whitehairbeautifullywavyandthick,and

carefully arranged in becoming puffs and coils. Beneath it was an almostgirlish face, pink cheeked and sweet lipped, with big soft brown eyes anddimples. . .actuallydimples.Sheworeaverydaintygownofcreammuslinwithpale-huedrosesonit...agownwhichwouldhaveseemedridiculouslyjuvenile on most women of her age, but which suited Miss Lavendar soperfectlythatyouneverthoughtaboutitatall."CharlottatheFourthsaysthatyouwishedtoseeme,"shesaid, inavoice

thatmatchedherappearance."We wanted to ask the right road toWest Grafton," said Diana. "We are

invitedtoteaatMr.Kimball's,butwetookthewrongpathcomingthroughthewoodsandcameouttothebaselineinsteadoftheWestGraftonroad.Dowetaketherightorleftturningatyourgate?""The left," said Miss Lavendar, with a hesitating glance at her tea table.

Thensheexclaimed,asifinasuddenlittleburstofresolution,"Butoh,won'tyoustayandhaveteawithme?Please,do.Mr.Kimball'swill

haveteaoverbeforeyougetthere.AndCharlottatheFourthandIwillbesogladtohaveyou."DianalookedmuteinquiryatAnne."We'dliketostay,"saidAnnepromptly,forshehadmadeuphermindthat

she wanted to know more of this surprising Miss Lavendar, "if it won'tinconvenienceyou.Butyouareexpectingotherguests,aren'tyou?"MissLavendarlookedatherteatableagain,andblushed."Iknowyou'llthinkmedreadfullyfoolish,"shesaid."IAMfoolish...and

I'mashamedofitwhenI'mfoundout,butneverunlessIAMfoundout.I'mnot expecting anybody . . . I was just pretending I was. You see, I was solonely. I love company . . . that is, the right kind of company.. .but so fewpeopleevercomeherebecauseitissofaroutoftheway.CharlottatheFourthwaslonelytoo.SoIjustpretendedIwasgoingtohaveateaparty.Icookedforit...anddecoratedthetableforit...andsetitwithmymother'sweddingchina...andIdressedupforit."DianasecretlythoughtMissLavendarquite

as peculiar as report had pictured her. The idea of a woman of forty-fiveplayingathavingateaparty,justasifshewerealittlegirl!ButAnneoftheshiningeyesexclaimedjoyfuly,"Oh,doYOUimaginethingstoo?"That"too"revealedakindredspirittoMissLavendar."Yes,Ido,"sheconfessed,boldly."Ofcourseit'ssillyinanybodyasoldasI

am.Butwhatistheuseofbeinganindependentoldmaidifyoucan'tbesillywhen youwant to, andwhen it doesn't hurt anybody?A personmust havesome compensations. I don't believe I could live at times if I didn't pretendthings.I'mnotoftencaughtatitthough,andCharlottatheFourthnevertells.ButI'mgladtobecaught today,foryouhavereallycomeandIhaveteaallreadyforyou.Willyougouptothespareroomandtakeoffyourhats?It'sthewhitedoorattheheadofthestairs.ImustrunouttothekitchenandseethatCharlotta the Fourth isn't letting the tea boil. Charlotta the Fourth is a verygoodgirlbutsheWILLlettheteaboil."MissLavendar trippedoff to thekitchenonhospitable thoughts intentand

thegirls found theirwayup to the spare room,anapartment aswhite as itsdoor,lightedbytheivy-hungdormerwindowandlooking,asAnnesaid,liketheplacewherehappydreamsgrew."Thisisquiteanadventure, isn't it?"saidDiana."Andisn'tMissLavendar

sweet,ifsheISalittleodd?Shedoesn'tlookabitlikeanoldmaid.""Shelooksjustasmusicsounds,Ithink,"answeredAnne.WhentheywentdownMissLavendarwascarryingintheteapot,andbehind

her, looking vastly pleased, was Charlotta the Fourth, with a plate of hotbiscuits."Now,youmusttellmeyournames,"saidMissLavendar."I'msogladyou

are young girls. I love young girls. It's so easy to pretend I'm a girlmyselfwhenI'mwiththem.Idohate"...withalittlegrimace..."tobelieveI'mold.Now,who are you . . . just for convenience' sake?DianaBarry?AndAnneShirley?MayIpretendthatI'veknownyouforahundredyearsandcallyouAnneandDianarightaway?""You,may"thegirlssaidbothtogether."Then just let's sit comfily down and eat everything," saidMissLavendar

happily. "Charlotta, you sit at the foot and help with the chicken. It is sofortunatethatImadethespongecakeanddoughnuts.Ofcourse,itwasfoolishtodoitforimaginaryguests...IknowCharlottatheFourththoughtso,didn'tyou, Charlotta? But you see how well it has turned out. Of course theywouldn't have beenwasted, forCharlotta theFourth and I could have eatenthemthroughtime.Butspongecakeisnotathingthatimproveswithtime."Thatwasamerryandmemorablemeal;andwhenitwasovertheyallwent

outtothegarden,lyingintheglamorofsunset."Idothinkyouhavetheloveliestplacehere,"saidDiana,lookingroundher

admiringly."WhydoyoucallitEchoLodge?"askedAnne."Charlotta,"saidMissLavendar,"gointothehouseandbringoutthelittle

tinhornthatishangingovertheclockshelf."CharlottatheFourthskippedoffandreturnedwiththehorn."Blowit,Charlotta,"commandedMissLavendar.Charlotta accordingly blew, a rather raucous, strident blast. There was

moment's stillness . . . and then from the woods over the river came amultitudeoffairyechoes,sweet,elusive,silvery,asifallthe"hornsofelfland"wereblowingagainstthesunset.AnneandDianaexclaimedindelight."Nowlaugh,Charlotta...laughloudly."Charlotta,whowouldprobablyhaveobeyedifMissLavendarhadtoldher

to stand on her head, climbed upon the stone bench and laughed loud andheartily.Backcametheechoes,asifahostofpixypeopleweremimickingherlaughterinthepurplewoodlandsandalongthefir-fringedpoints."Peoplealwaysadmiremyechoesverymuch,"saidMissLavendar,asifthe

echoeswereherpersonalproperty."I love themmyself.Theyareverygoodcompany.. .withalittlepretending.OncalmeveningsCharlottatheFourthandIoftensitouthereandamuseourselveswith them.Charlotta, takebackthehornandhangitcarefullyinitsplace.""WhydoyoucallherCharlottatheFourth?"askedDiana,whowasbursting

withcuriosityonthispoint."Just to keep her from getting mixed up with other Charlottas in my

thoughts,"saidMissLavendarseriously."Theyalllooksomuchalikethere'snotellingthemapart.Hernameisn'treallyCharlottaatall.Itis...letmesee...whatisit?ITHINKit'sLeonora...yes,itISLeonora.Yousee,itisthisway.Whenmother died ten years ago I couldn't stay here alone . . . and Icouldn'tafford topay thewagesofagrown-upgirl.So Igot littleCharlottaBowmantocomeandstaywithmeforboardandclothes.HernamereallywasCharlotta . . . shewasCharlotta theFirst. Shewas just thirteen. She stayedwithmetillshewassixteenand thenshewentawaytoBoston,becauseshecould do better there.Her sister came to staywithme then.Her namewasJulietta...Mrs.BowmanhadaweaknessforfancynamesIthink...butshelooked so likeCharlotta that I kept calling her that all the time . . .and shedidn'tmind. So I just gave up trying to remember her right name. ShewasCharlotta the Second, and when she went away Evelina came and she wasCharlottatheThird.NowIhaveCharlottatheFourth;butwhensheissixteen...she'sfourteennow...shewillwanttogotoBostontoo,andwhatIshalldothenIreallydonotknow.CharlottatheFourthisthelastoftheBowmangirls,andthebest.TheotherCharlottasalwaysletmeseethattheythoughtitsillyofme topretend thingsbutCharlotta theFourthneverdoes,nomatterwhat

shemayreallythink.Idon'tcarewhatpeoplethinkaboutmeiftheydon'tletmeseeit.""Well,"saidDianalookingregretfullyatthesettingsun."Isupposewemust

go ifwewant toget toMr.Kimball'sbeforedark.We'vehada lovely time,MissLewis.""Won'tyoucomeagaintoseeme?"pleadedMissLavendar.TallAnneputherarmaboutthelittlelady."Indeedweshall," shepromised. "Now thatwehavediscoveredyouwe'll

wearoutourwelcomecomingtoseeyou.Yes,wemustgo...'wemusttearourselvesaway,'asPaulIrvingsayseverytimehecomestoGreenGables.""PaulIrving?"TherewasasubtlechangeinMissLavendar'svoice."Whois

he?Ididn'tthinktherewasanybodyofthatnameinAvonlea."Anne felt vexed at her own heedlessness. She had forgotten about Miss

Lavendar'soldromancewhenPaul'snameslippedout."Heisalittlepupilofmine,"sheexplainedslowly."HecamefromBoston

lastyeartolivewithhisgrandmother,Mrs.Irvingoftheshoreroad.""Is he Stephen Irving's son?" Miss Lavendar asked, bending over her

namesakebordersothatherfacewashidden."Yes.""I'mgoingtogiveyougirlsabunchoflavendarapiece,"saidMissLavendar

brightly,as ifshehadnotheard theanswer toherquestion."It'sverysweet,don'tyouthink?Motheralwayslovedit.Sheplantedtheseborderslongago.FathernamedmeLavendarbecausehewassofondofit.TheveryfirsttimehesawmotherwaswhenhevisitedherhomeinEastGraftonwithherbrother.Hefellinlovewithheratfirstsight;andtheyputhiminthespareroombedtosleepandthesheetswerescentedwithlavendarandhelayawakeallnightandthoughtofher.Healwayslovedthescentof lavendarafter that . . .andthatwaswhy he gaveme the name.Don't forget to come back soon, girls dear.We'llbelookingforyou,CharlottatheFourthandI."She opened the gate under the firs for them to pass through. She looked

suddenly old and tired; the glow and radiance had faded fromher face; herpartingsmilewasassweetwithineradicableyouthasever,butwhenthegirlslooked back from the first curve in the lane they sawher sitting on the oldstonebenchunderthesilverpoplarinthemiddleofthegardenwithherheadleaningwearilyonherhand."Shedoeslooklonely,"saidDianasoftly."Wemustcomeoftentoseeher.""I think her parents gave her the only right and fitting name that could

possiblybegivenher,"saidAnne."If theyhadbeensoblindastonameherElizabeth or Nellie orMuriel she must have been called Lavendar just thesame, I think. It's so suggestive of sweetness and old-fashioned graces and

'silk attire.' Now,my name just smacks of bread and butter, patchwork andchores.""Oh,Idon'tthinkso,"saidDiana."Anneseemstomerealstatelyandlikea

queen. But I'd like Kerrenhappuch if it happened to be your name. I thinkpeoplemaketheirnamesniceoruglyjustbywhattheyarethemselves.Ican'tbearJosieorGertiefornamesnowbutbeforeIknewthePyegirlsIthoughtthemrealpretty.""That'salovelyidea,Diana,"saidAnneenthusiastically."Livingsothatyou

beautify your name, even if itwasn't beautiful to beginwith . . .making itstandinpeople'sthoughtsforsomethingsolovelyandpleasantthattheyneverthinkofitbyitself.Thankyou,Diana."

XXIIOddsandEnds

"SoyouhadteaatthestonehousewithLavendarLewis?"saidMarillaatthebreakfast table nextmorning. "What is she like now? It's over fifteen yearssinceIsawherlast...itwasoneSundayinGraftonchurch.Isupposeshehaschangedagreatdeal.DavyKeith,whenyouwantsomethingyoucan'treach,asktohaveitpassedanddon'tspreadyourselfoverthetableinthatfashion.DidyoueverseePaulIrvingdoingthatwhenhewasheretomeals?""ButPaul's armsare longer'nmine,"brumbledDavy. "They'vehadeleven

years to grow andmine've only had seven. 'Sides, I DID ask, but you andAnnewassobusytalkingyoudidn'tpayany'tention.'Sides,Paul'sneverbeenheretoanymealescepttea,andit'seasiertobep'liteatteathanatbreakfast.You ain't half as hungry. It's an awful long while between supper andbreakfast.Now,Anne,thatspoonfulain'tanybiggerthanitwaslastyearandI'Meversomuchbigger.""Ofcourse, Idon'tknowwhatMissLavendarused to looklikebutIdon't

fancysomehow that shehaschangedagreatdeal," saidAnne,after shehadhelpedDavy tomaple syrup, giving him two spoonfuls to pacify him. "Herhair is snow-white but her face is fresh and almost girlish, and she has thesweetestbrowneyes...suchaprettyshadeofwood-brownwithlittlegoldenglintsinthem. . .andhervoicemakesyouthinkofwhitesatinandtinklingwaterandfairybellsallmixeduptogether.""She was reckoned a great beauty when she was a girl," saidMarilla. "I

neverknewherverywellbutIlikedherasfarasIdidknowher.Somefolksthoughtherpeculiareventhen.DAVY,ifeverIcatchyouatsuchatrickagainyou'll be made to wait for your meals till everyone else is done, like the

French."MostconversationsbetweenAnneandMarillainthepresenceofthetwins,

werepunctuatedby these rebukesDavy-ward. In this instance,Davy, sad torelate,notbeingable toscoopup the lastdropsofhissyrupwithhisspoon,had solved the difficulty by lifting his plate in both hands and applying hissmallpinktonguetoit.Annelookedathimwithsuchhorrifiedeyesthatthelittlesinnerturnedredandsaid,halfshamefacedly,halfdefiantly,"Thereain'tanywastedthatway.""Peoplewhoaredifferentfromotherpeoplearealwayscalledpeculiar,"said

Anne."AndMissLavendar iscertainlydifferent, though it'shard tosay justwherethedifferencecomesin.Perhapsitisbecausesheisoneofthosepeoplewhonevergrowold.""Onemight aswell grow oldwhen all your generation do," saidMarilla,

ratherrecklessofherpronouns."Ifyoudon't,youdon'tfitinanywhere.FarasIcanlearnLavendarLewishasjustdroppedoutofeverything.She'slivedinthatoutofthewayplaceuntileverybodyhasforgottenher.ThatstonehouseisoneoftheoldestontheIsland.OldMr.LewisbuiltiteightyyearsagowhenhecameoutfromEngland.Davy,stopjogglingDora'selbow.Oh,Isawyou!You needn't try to look innocent. What does make you behave so thismorning?""Maybe I got out of the wrong side of the bed," suggested Davy. "Milty

Boultersaysifyoudothatthingsareboundtogowrongwithyouallday.Hisgrandmother toldhim.Butwhich is the right side?Andwhat are you to dowhenyourbed'sagainstthewall?Iwanttoknow.""I've always wondered what went wrong between Stephen Irving and

Lavendar Lewis," continued Marilla, ignoring Davy. "They were certainlyengagedtwenty-fiveyearsagoandthenallatonceitwasbrokenoff.Idon'tknowwhat the troublewasbut itmust havebeen something terrible, for hewentawaytotheStatesandnevercomehomesince.""Perhapsitwasnothingverydreadfulafterall.Ithinkthelittlethingsinlife

oftenmakemore trouble than the big things," saidAnne,with one of thoseflashesof insightwhichexperiencecouldnothavebettered."Marilla,pleasedon'tsayanythingaboutmybeingatMissLavendar'stoMrs.Lynde.She'dbesuretoaskahundredquestionsandsomehowIwouldn'tlikeit...norMissLavendareitherifsheknew,Ifeelsure.""IdaresayRachelwouldbecurious,"admittedMarilla,"thoughshehasn'tas

much timeas sheused tohave for lookingafterotherpeople's affairs.She'stiedhomenowonaccountofThomas;andshe's feelingprettydownhearted,forIthinkshe'sbeginningtolosehopeofhisevergettingbetter.Rachelwillbe leftpretty lonely ifanythinghappens tohim,withallherchildrensettledoutwest,exceptElizaintown;andshedoesn'tlikeherhusband."

Marilla'spronounsslanderedEliza,whowasveryfondofherhusband."Rachelsaysifhe'donlybraceupandexerthiswillpowerhe'dgetbetter.

Butwhatistheuseofaskingajellyfishtositupstraight?"continuedMarilla."ThomasLyndeneverhadanywillpowertoexert.Hismotherruledhimtillhemarried and thenRachel carried it on. It's awonderhedared toget sickwithoutaskingherpermission.Butthere,Ishouldn'ttalkso.Rachelhasbeenagoodwife tohim.He'dneverhave amounted to anythingwithouther, that'scertain.Hewasborntoberuled;andit'swellhefellintothehandsofaclever,capablemanagerlikeRachel.Hedidn'tmindherway.Itsavedhimthebotherofevermakinguphisownmindaboutanything.Davy,dostopsquirminglikeaneel.""I'venothingelse todo,"protestedDavy."Ican'teatanymore,andit'sno

funwatchingyouandAnneeat.""Well, you andDora go out and give the hens theirwheat," saidMarilla.

"And don't you try to pull anymore feathers out of thewhite rooster's taileither.""IwantedsomefeathersforanInjunheaddress,"saidDavysulkily."Milty

Boulterhasadandyone,madeoutofthefeathershismothergivehimwhenshekilledtheiroldwhitegobbler.Youmightletmehavesome.Thatrooster'sgoteversomanymore'nhewants.""Youmayhavetheoldfeatherdusterinthegarret,"saidAnne,"andI'lldye

themgreenandredandyellowforyou.""Youdospoilthatboydreadfully,"saidMarilla,whenDavy,witharadiant

face,hadfollowedprimDoraout.Marilla'seducationhadmadegreatstridesinthepastsixyears;butshehadnotyetbeenabletoridherselfoftheideathatitwasverybadforachildtohavetoomanyofitswishesindulged."AlltheboysofhisclasshaveIndianheaddresses,andDavywantsonetoo,"

saidAnne."Iknowhow it feels . . . I'llnever forgethowIused to long forpuffedsleeveswhenalltheothergirlshadthem.AndDavyisn'tbeingspoiled.He is improvingeveryday.Thinkwhatadifference there is inhimsincehecamehereayearago.""He certainly doesn't get into as much mischief since he began to go to

school,"acknowledgedMarilla."Isupposeheworksoffthetendencywiththeother boys. But it's a wonder to me we haven't heard from Richard Keithbeforethis.NeverawordsincelastMay.""I'llbeafraidtohearfromhim,"sighedAnne,beginningtoclearawaythe

dishes."IfalettershouldcomeI'ddreadopeningit,forfearitwouldtellustosendthetwinstohim."Amonthlateraletterdidcome.ButitwasnotfromRichardKeith.Afriend

of hiswrote to say that RichardKeith had died of consumption a fortnightpreviously.Thewriteroftheletterwastheexecutorofhiswillandbythatwill

thesumoftwothousanddollarswaslefttoMissMarillaCuthbertintrustforDavidandDoraKeithuntiltheycameofageormarried.Inthemeantimetheinterestwastobeusedfortheirmaintenance."Itseemsdreadful tobegladofanythinginconnectionwithadeath,"said

Annesoberly."I'msorryforpoorMr.Keith;butIAMgladthatwecankeepthetwins.""It'saverygoodthingaboutthemoney,"saidMarillapractically."Iwanted

tokeepthembutIreallydidn'tseehowIcouldaffordtodoit,especiallywhentheygrewolder.Therentofthefarmdoesn'tdoanymorethankeepthehouseandIwasboundthatnotacentofyourmoneyshouldbespentonthem.Youdofartoomuchforthemasitis.Doradidn'tneedthatnewhatyouboughtheranymorethanacatneedstwotails.Butnowthewayismadeclearandtheyareprovidedfor."Davy andDorawere delightedwhen they heard that theywere to live at

GreenGables,"forgood."Thedeathofanunclewhomtheyhadneverseencould not weigh a moment in the balance against that. But Dora had onemisgiving."WasUncleRichardburied?"shewhisperedtoAnne."Yes,dear,ofcourse.""He . . . he . . . isn't likeMirabel Cotton's uncle, is he?" in a still more

agitated whisper. "He won't walk about houses after being buried, will he,Anne?"

XXIIIMissLavendar'sRomance

"IthinkI'lltakeawalkthroughtoEchoLodgethisevening,"saidAnne,oneFridayafternooninDecember."Itlookslikesnow,"saidMarilladubiously."I'llbetherebeforethesnowcomesandImeantostayallnight.Dianacan't

gobecauseshehascompany,andI'msureMissLavendarwillbelookingformetonight.It'sawholefortnightsinceIwasthere."Anne had paid many a visit to Echo Lodge since that October day.

SometimessheandDianadrovearoundbytheroad;sometimestheywalkedthroughthewoods.WhenDianacouldnotgoAnnewentalone.BetweenherandMiss Lavendar had sprung up one of those fervent, helpful friendshipspossible only between awomanwhohas kept the freshness of youth in herheartandsoul,andagirlwhoseimaginationandintuitionsuppliedtheplaceofexperience.Annehadatlastdiscoveredareal"kindredspirit,"whileintothe

littlelady'slonely,sequesteredlifeofdreamsAnneandDianacamewiththewholesomejoyandexhilarationoftheouterexistence,whichMissLavendar,"the world forgetting, by the world forgot," had long ceased to share; theybroughtanatmosphereofyouthandrealitytothelittlestonehouse.CharlottatheFourthalwaysgreetedthemwithherverywidestsmile...andCharlotta'ssmiles WERE fearfully wide . . . loving them for the sake of her adoredmistressaswellasfortheirown.Neverhadtherebeensuch"highjinks"heldin the little stone house as were held there that beautiful, late-lingeringautumn, when November seemed October over again, and even Decemberapedthesunshineandhazesofsummer.ButonthisparticulardayitseemedasifDecemberhadrememberedthatit

was time for winter and had turned suddenly dull and brooding, with awindlesshushpredictiveofcomingsnow.Nevertheless,Annekeenlyenjoyedher walk through the great gray maze of the beechlands; though alone shenever found it lonely; her imagination peopled her path with merrycompanions,andwiththeseshecarriedonagay,pretendedconversationthatwaswittierandmorefascinatingthanconversationsareapttobeinreallife,wherepeoplesometimesfailmost lamentablytotalkuptotherequirements.Ina"makebelieve"assemblyofchoicespiritseverybodysays just the thingyouwanthertosayandsogivesyouthechancetosayjustwhatYOUwanttosay. Attended by this invisible company, Anne traversed the woods andarrived at the fir lane just as broad, feathery flakes began to flutter downsoftly.AtthefirstbendshecameuponMissLavendar,standingunderabig,broad-

branchingfir.Sheworeagownofwarm,richred,andherheadandshoulderswerewrappedinasilverygraysilkshawl."Youlooklikethequeenofthefirwoodfairies,"calledAnnemerrily."I thought you would come tonight, Anne," saidMiss Lavendar, running

forward."AndI'mdoublyglad,forCharlottatheFourthisaway.Hermotherissickandshehadtogohomeforthenight.Ishouldhavebeenverylonelyifyou hadn't come . . . even the dreams and the echoes wouldn't have beenenoughcompany.Oh,Anne,howprettyyouare,"sheaddedsuddenly,lookingupatthetall,slimgirlwiththesoftrose-flushofwalkingonherface."Howpretty and how young! It's so delightful to be seventeen, isn't it? I do envyyou,"concludedMissLavendarcandidly."Butyouareonlyseventeenatheart,"smiledAnne."No, I'mold . . . or rathermiddle-aged,which is farworse," sighedMiss

Lavendar."SometimesIcanpretendI'mnot,butatothertimesIrealizeit.AndIcan'treconcilemyselftoitasmostwomenseemto.I'mjustasrebelliousasIwaswhen I discoveredmy first gray hair.Now,Anne, don't look as if youweretryingtounderstand.SeventeenCAN'Tunderstand.I'mgoingtopretend

rightawaythatIamseventeentoo,andIcandoit,nowthatyou'rehere.Youalways bring youth in your hand like a gift. We're going to have a jollyevening.Teafirst...whatdoyouwantfortea?We'llhavewhateveryoulike.Dothinkofsomethingniceandindigestible."Thereweresoundsofriotandmirthinthelittlestonehousethatnight.What

withcookingandfeastingandmakingcandyandlaughingand"pretending,"itisquitetruethatMissLavendarandAnnecomportedthemselvesinafashionentirely unsuited to the dignity of a spinster of forty-five and a sedateschoolma'am.Then,whentheyweretired,theysatdownontherugbeforethegrateintheparlor,lightedonlybythesoftfireshineandperfumeddeliciouslybyMissLavendar'sopenrose-jaronthemantel.Thewindhadrisenandwassighingandwailingaroundtheeavesandthesnowwasthuddingsoftlyagainstthewindows,asifahundredstormspritesweretappingforentrance."I'msogladyou'rehere,Anne,"saidMissLavendar,nibblingathercandy.

"Ifyouweren'tIshouldbeblue...veryblue...almostnavyblue.Dreamsandmake-believesareallverywellinthedaytimeandthesunshine,butwhendarkandstormcometheyfailtosatisfy.Onewantsrealthingsthen.Butyoudon'tknowthis...seventeenneverknowsit.AtseventeendreamsDOsatisfybecause you think the realities are waiting for you further on.When I wasseventeen,Anne, Ididn't thinkforty-fivewouldfindmeawhite-haired littleoldmaidwithnothingbutdreamstofillmylife.""But you aren't an old maid," said Anne, smiling into Miss Lavendar's

wistfulwoodbrowneyes."OldmaidsareBORN...theydon'tBECOME.""Somearebornoldmaids, someachieveoldmaidenhood, and somehave

oldmaidenhoodthrustuponthem,"parodiedMissLavendarwhimsically."You are one of those who have achieved it then," laughed Anne, "and

you'vedoneitsobeautifullythatifeveryoldmaidwerelikeyoutheywouldcomeintothefashion,Ithink.""I always like to do things as well as possible," said Miss Lavendar

meditatively,"andsinceanoldmaidIhadtobeIwasdeterminedtobeaverynice one.People say I'modd; but it's just because I followmyownwayofbeinganoldmaidandrefusetocopythetraditionalpattern.Anne,didanyoneevertellyouanythingaboutStephenIrvingandme?""Yes,"saidAnnecandidly,"I'veheardthatyouandhewereengagedonce.""Sowewere...twenty-fiveyearsago...alifetimeago.Andwewereto

have beenmarried the next spring. I hadmywedding dressmade, althoughnobody butmother and Stephen ever knewTHAT.We'd been engaged in away almost all our lives, youmight say.WhenStephenwas a little boyhismother would bring him here when she came to see my mother; and thesecondtimeheevercame...hewasnineandIwassix...hetoldmeoutinthe garden that he had prettywellmade up hismind tomarrymewhen he

grew up. I remember that I said 'Thank you'; andwhen hewas gone I toldmother very gravely that there was a great weight off my mind, because Iwasn'tfrightenedanymoreabouthavingtobeanoldmaid.Howpoormotherlaughed!""Andwhatwentwrong?"askedAnnebreathlessly."Wehadjustastupid,silly,commonplacequarrel.Socommonplacethat,if

you'llbelieveme,Idon'tevenrememberjusthowitbegan.Ihardlyknowwhowas the more to blame for it. Stephen did really begin it, but I suppose Iprovokedhimbysomefoolishnessofmine.Hehadarivalortwo,yousee.Iwasvainandcoquettishand liked to teasehima little.Hewasaveryhigh-strung, sensitive fellow. Well, we parted in a temper on both sides. But Ithought it would all come right; and it would have if Stephen hadn't comebacktoosoon.Anne,mydear,I'msorrytosay". . .MissLavendardroppedhervoiceasifshewereabouttoconfessapredilectionformurderingpeople,"thatIamadreadfullysulkyperson.Oh,youneedn'tsmile, . . . it'sonlytootrue. I DO sulk; and Stephen came back before I had finished sulking. Iwouldn't listen tohimand Iwouldn't forgivehim; and sohewent away forgood.Hewas tooproud tocomeagain.And thenIsulkedbecausehedidn'tcome.Imighthavesentforhimperhaps,butIcouldn'thumblemyselftodothat. Iwas justasproudashewas . . .prideandsulkinessmakeaverybadcombination,Anne.ButIcouldnevercareforanybodyelseandIdidn'twantto. I knew I would rather be an old maid for a thousand years thanmarryanybodywhowasn'tStephen Irving.Well, it all seems likeadreamnow,ofcourse.Howsympatheticyoulook,Anne...assympatheticasonlyseventeencanlook.Butdon'toverdoit.I'mreallyaveryhappy,contentedlittlepersoninspite of my broken heart. My heart did break, if ever a heart did, when IrealizedthatStephenIrvingwasnotcomingback.But,Anne,abrokenheartin real life isn'thalf asdreadfulas it is inbooks. It's agooddeal likeabadtooth...thoughyouwon'tthinkTHATaveryromanticsimile.Ittakesspellsofachingandgivesyouasleeplessnightnowandthen,butbetweentimesitletsyouenjoylifeanddreamsandechoesandpeanutcandyasif therewerenothing thematterwith it.And nowyou're looking disappointed.You don'tthink I'mhalf as interestingapersonasyoudid fiveminutesagowhenyoubelieved Iwas always the prey of a tragicmemory bravely hidden beneathexternal smiles. That's the worst . . . or the best . . . of real life, Anne. ItWON'Tletyoubemiserable.Itkeepsontryingtomakeyoucomfortable...and succeeding...evenwhen you're determined to be unhappy and romantic.Isn'tthiscandyscrumptious?I'veeatenfarmorethanisgoodformealreadybutI'mgoingtokeeprecklesslyon."AfteralittlesilenceMissLavendarsaidabruptly,"ItgavemeashocktohearaboutStephen'ssonthatfirstdayyouwerehere,

Anne. I've never been able tomention him to you since, but I'vewanted to

knowallabouthim.Whatsortofaboyishe?""He is thedearest, sweetest child I ever knew,MissLavendar . . . andhe

pretendsthingstoo,justasyouandIdo.""I'd like to seehim," saidMissLavendar softly, as if talking toherself. "I

wonderifhelooksanythinglikethelittledream-boywholivesherewithme...MYlittledream-boy.""If youwould like to see Paul I'll bring him throughwithme sometime,"

saidAnne."Iwouldlikeit...butnottoosoon.Iwanttogetusedtothethought.There

mightbemorepainthanpleasureinit...ifhelookedtoomuchlikeStephen...orifhedidn'tlookenoughlikehim.Inamonth'stimeyoumaybringhim."Accordingly,amonthlaterAnneandPaulwalkedthroughthewoodstothe

stonehouse,andmetMissLavendarinthelane.Shehadnotbeenexpectingthemjustthenandsheturnedverypale."So this is Stephen's boy," she said in a low tone, taking Paul's hand and

lookingathimashestood,beautifulandboyish,inhissmartlittlefurcoatandcap."He...heisverylikehisfather.""Everybodysays I'machipoff theoldblock," remarkedPaul,quiteathis

ease.Anne,whohadbeenwatching the littlescene,drewarelievedbreath.She

saw thatMiss Lavendar and Paul had "taken" to each other, and that therewouldbenoconstraintorstiffness.MissLavendarwasaverysensibleperson,in spite of her dreams and romance, and after that first little betrayal shetuckedherfeelingsoutofsightandentertainedPaulasbrightlyandnaturallyas if hewere anybody's sonwho had come to see her. They all had a jollyafternoon togetherandsucha feastof fat thingsbywayof supperaswouldhavemadeoldMrs. Irvingholdupherhands inhorror,believing thatPaul'sdigestionwouldberuinedforever."Come again, laddie," said Miss Lavendar, shaking hands with him at

parting."Youmaykissmeifyoulike,"saidPaulgravely.MissLavendarstoopedandkissedhim."HowdidyouknowIwantedto?"shewhispered."Because you looked atme just asmy littlemother used to dowhen she

wantedtokissme.Asarule,Idon'tliketobekissed.Boysdon't.Youknow,MissLewis.ButI thinkIrather like tohaveyoukissme.AndofcourseI'llcome toseeyouagain. I think I'd like tohaveyou foraparticular friendofmine,ifyoudon'tobject.""I...Idon'tthinkIshallobject,"saidMissLavendar.Sheturnedandwent

inveryquickly;butamomentlatershewaswavingagayandsmilinggood-

byetothemfromthewindow."I likeMissLavendar,"announcedPaul,as theywalkedthroughthebeech

woods."Ilikethewayshelookedatme,andIlikeherstonehouse,andIlikeCharlottatheFourth.IwishGrandmaIrvinghadaCharlottatheFourthinsteadofaMaryJoe.IfeelsureCharlottatheFourthwouldn'tthinkIwaswronginmy upper story when I told her what I think about things. Wasn't that asplendidteawehad,teacher?Grandmasaysaboyshouldn'tbethinkingaboutwhat he gets to eat, but he can't help it sometimeswhen he is real hungry.YOU know, teacher. I don't think Miss Lavendar would make a boy eatporridgeforbreakfastifhedidn'tlikeit.She'dgetthingsforhimhedidlike.Butofcourse". . .Paulwasnothingifnotfair-minded. . ."thatmightn'tbeverygoodforhim.It'sveryniceforachangethough,teacher.YOUknow."

XXIVAProphetinHisOwnCountry

One May day Avonlea folks were mildly excited over some "AvonleaNotes," signed "Observer," which appeared in the Charlottetown 'DailyEnterprise.' Gossip ascribed the authorship thereof to Charlie Sloane, partlybecausethesaidCharliehadindulgedinsimilarliteraryflightsintimespast,and partly because one of the notes seemed to embody a sneer at GilbertBlythe. Avonlea juvenile society persisted in regarding Gilbert Blythe andCharlieSloaneasrivalsinthegoodgracesofacertaindamselwithgrayeyesandanimagination.Gossip,asusual,waswrong.GilbertBlythe,aidedandabettedbyAnne,had

writtenthenotes,puttingintheoneabouthimselfasablind.Onlytwoofthenoteshaveanybearingonthishistory:"Rumorhasitthattherewillbeaweddinginourvillageerethedaisiesare

inbloom.Anewandhighlyrespectedcitizenwill leadtothehymenealaltaroneofourmostpopularladies."UncleAbe, ourwell-knownweather prophet, predicts a violent storm of

thunderandlightningfortheeveningofthetwenty-thirdofMay,beginningatseveno'clocksharp.TheareaofthestormwillextendoverthegreaterpartoftheProvince.Peopletravelingthateveningwilldowelltotakeumbrellasandmackintosheswiththem.""Uncle Abe really has predicted a storm for sometime this spring," said

Gilbert, "but do you suppose Mr. Harrison really does go to see IsabellaAndrews?""No,"saidAnne,laughing,"I'msureheonlygoestoplaycheckerswithMr.

HarrisonAndrews,butMrs.LyndesayssheknowsIsabellaAndrewsmustbegoingtogetmarried,she'sinsuchgoodspiritsthisspring."PooroldUncleAbefelt rather indignantover thenotes.Hesuspected that

"Observer"wasmaking fun of him.He angrily denied having assigned anyparticulardateforhisstormbutnobodybelievedhim.Life in Avonlea continued on the smooth and even tenor of its way. The

"planting"wasputin;theImproverscelebratedanArborDay.EachImproverset out, or caused to be set out, five ornamental trees. As the society nownumberedfortymembers,thismeantatotaloftwohundredyoungtrees.Earlyoatsgreenedover theredfields;appleorchardsflunggreatblossomingarmsabout the farmhouses and the SnowQueen adorned itself as a bride for herhusband. Anne liked to sleep with her window open and let the cherryfragrance blowover her face all night. She thought it very poetical.Marillathoughtshewasriskingherlife."Thanksgivingshouldbecelebratedinthespring,"saidAnneoneeveningto

Marilla, as they sat on the front door steps and listened to the silver-sweetchorusofthefrogs."IthinkitwouldbeeversomuchbetterthanhavingitinNovemberwheneverythingisdeadorasleep.Thenyouhavetoremembertobethankful;butinMayonesimplycan'thelpbeingthankful...thattheyarealive,iffornothingelse.IfeelexactlyasEvemusthavefeltinthegardenofEdenbeforethetroublebegan.ISthatgrassinthehollowgreenorgolden?Itseemstome,Marilla,thatapearlofadaylikethis,whentheblossomsareoutand thewinds don't knowwhere to blow from next for sheer crazy delightmustbeprettynearasgoodasheaven."Marillalookedscandalizedandglancedapprehensivelyaroundtomakesure

thetwinswerenotwithinearshot.Theycamearoundthecornerofthehousejustthen."Ain'titanawfulnice-smellingevening?"askedDavy,sniffingdelightedly

as he swung a hoe in his grimyhands.Hehadbeenworking in his garden.ThatspringMarilla,bywayofturningDavy'spassionforrevelinginmudandclayintousefulchannels,hadgivenhimandDoraasmallplotofgroundforagarden. Both had eagerly gone to work in a characteristic fashion. Doraplanted,weeded,andwateredcarefully,systematically,anddispassionately.Asaresult,herplotwasalreadygreenwithprim,orderlylittlerowsofvegetablesandannuals.Davy,however,workedwithmorezeal thandiscretion;hedugand hoed and raked and watered and transplanted so energetically that hisseedshadnochancefortheirlives."Howisyourgardencomingon,Davy-boy?"askedAnne."Kindofslow,"saidDavywithasigh."Idon'tknowwhy the thingsdon't

growbetter.MiltyBoulter says Imust haveplanted them in thedarkof themoonandthat'sthewholetrouble.Hesaysyoumustneversowseedsorkill

porkorcutyourhairordoany'portantthinginthewrongtimeofthemoon.Isthattrue,Anne?Iwanttoknow.""Maybeifyoudidn'tpullyourplantsupbytherootseveryotherdaytosee

how they're getting on 'at the other end,' they'd do better," said Marillasarcastically."Ionlypulledsixofthemup,"protestedDavy."Iwantedtoseeiftherewas

grubsat the roots.MiltyBoultersaid if itwasn't themoon's fault itmustbegrubs.ButIonlyfoundonegrub.Hewasagreatbig juicycurlygrub.Iputhimonastoneandgotanotherstoneandsmashedhimflat.HemadeajollySQUISHItellyou.Iwassorrytherewasn'tmoreofthem.Dora'sgardenwasplantedsametime'smineandherthingsaregrowingallright.ItCAN'Tbethemoon,"Davyconcludedinareflectivetone."Marilla,lookatthatappletree,"saidAnne."Why,thethingishuman.Itis

reachingoutlongarmstopickitsownpinkskirtsdaintilyupandprovokeustoadmiration.""ThoseYellowDuchesstreesalwaysbearwell,"saidMarillacomplacently.

"Thattree'llbeloadedthisyear.I'mrealglad...they'regreatforpies."ButneitherMarillanorAnnenoranybodyelsewasfatedtomakepiesoutof

YellowDuchessapplesthatyear.The twenty-third of May came . . . an unseasonably warm day, as none

realizedmore keenly thanAnne and her little beehive of pupils, swelteringoverfractionsandsyntaxintheAvonleaschoolroom.Ahotbreezeblewalltheforenoon;butafternoonhouritdiedawayintoaheavystillness.AthalfpastthreeAnneheardalowrumbleofthunder.Shepromptlydismissedschoolatonce,sothatthechildrenmightgethomebeforethestormcame.As theywentout to theplaygroundAnneperceived a certain shadowand

gloomovertheworldinspiteofthefactthatthesunwasstillshiningbrightly.AnnettaBellcaughtherhandnervously."Oh,teacher,lookatthatawfulcloud!"Annelookedandgaveanexclamationofdismay.Inthenorthwestamassof

cloud,suchasshehadneverinallherlifebeheldbefore,wasrapidlyrollingup. It was dead black, save where its curled and fringed edges showed aghastly,lividwhite.Therewassomethingaboutitindescribablymenacingasit gloomed up in the clear blue sky; now and again a bolt of lightning shotacrossit,followedbyasavagegrowl.Ithungsolowthatitalmostseemedtobetouchingthetopsofthewoodedhills.Mr.HarmonAndrewscameclatteringupthehillinhistruckwagon,urging

histeamofgraystotheirutmostspeed.Hepulledthemtoahaltoppositetheschool."Guess Uncle Abe's hit it for once in his life, Anne," he shouted. "His

storm'scomingaleetleaheadoftime.Didyeeverseethelikeofthatcloud?

Here,allyouyoungones,thataregoingmyway,pilein,andthosethatain'tscootforthepostofficeifye'vemore'naquarterofamiletogo,andstaytheretilltheshower'sover."AnnecaughtDavyandDorabythehandsandflewdownthehill,alongthe

BirchPath,andpastVioletValeandWillowmere,asfastasthetwins'fatlegscouldgo.TheyreachedGreenGablesnotamomenttoosoonandwerejoinedat thedoorbyMarilla,whohadbeenhustlingherducksandchickensundershelter.Astheydashedintothekitchenthelightseemedtovanish,asifblownoutbysomemightybreath;theawfulcloudrolledoverthesunandadarknessasoflatetwilightfellacrosstheworld.Atthesamemoment,withacrashofthunderandablindingglareoflightning,thehailswoopeddownandblottedthelandscapeoutinonewhitefury.Throughalltheclamorofthestormcamethethudoftornbranchesstriking

thehouseandthesharpcrackofbreakingglass.Inthreeminuteseverypaneinthewest and northwindowswas broken and the hail poured in through theaperturescoveringthefloorwithstones,thesmallestofwhichwasasbigasahen'segg.Forthreequartersofanhourthestormragedunabatedandnoonewhounderwentiteverforgotit.Marilla,foronceinherlifeshakenoutofhercomposure by sheer terror, knelt by her rocking chair in a corner of thekitchen, gasping and sobbing between the deafening thunder peals. Anne,whiteaspaper,haddraggedthesofaawayfromthewindowandsatonitwithatwinoneitherside.Davyatthefirstcrashhadhowled,"Anne,Anne,isittheJudgment Day? Anne, Anne, I never meant to be naughty," and then hadburiedhisfaceinAnne'slapandkeptitthere,hislittlebodyquivering.Dora,somewhatpalebutquitecomposed,satwithherhandclaspedinAnne's,quietandmotionless.ItisdoubtfulifanearthquakewouldhavedisturbedDora.Then,almostassuddenlyasitbegan,thestormceased.Thehailstopped,the

thunderrolledandmutteredawaytotheeastward,andthesunburstoutmerryand radiantoveraworld sochanged that it seemedanabsurd thing to thinkthat a scant three quarters of an hour could have effected such atransformation.Marillarosefromherknees,weakandtrembling,anddroppedonherrocker.

Herfacewashaggardandshelookedtenyearsolder."Haveweallcomeoutofthatalive?"sheaskedsolemnly."You bet we have," piped Davy cheerfully, quite his own man again. "I

wasn't a bit scared either . . . only just at the first. It come on a fellow sosudden.ImadeupmymindquickasawinkthatIwouldn'tfightTeddySloaneMondayasI'dpromised;butnowmaybeIwill.Say,Dora,wasyouscared?""Yes,Iwasalittlescared,"saidDoraprimly,"butIheldtighttoAnne'shand

andsaidmyprayersoverandoveragain.""Well, I'd have saidmy prayers too if I'd have thought of it," saidDavy;

"but,"headdedtriumphantly,"youseeIcamethroughjustassafeasyouforallIdidn'tsaythem."AnnegotMarillaaglassfulofherpotentcurrantwine . . .HOWpotent it

wasAnne, inherearlierdays,hadhadall toogoodreason toknow. . .andthentheywenttothedoortolookoutonthestrangescene.Far andwidewas awhite carpet, knee deep, of hailstones; drifts of them

wereheapedupunder the eaves andon the steps.When, threeor fourdayslater, thosehailstonesmelted, thehavoc theyhadwroughtwasplainly seen,foreverygreengrowingthinginthefieldorgardenwascutoff.Notonlywasevery blossom stripped from the apple trees but great boughs and brancheswere wrenched away. And out of the two hundred trees set out by theImproversbyfarthegreaternumberweresnappedoffortorntoshreds."Can it possibly be the same world it was an hour ago?" asked Anne,

dazedly."ItMUSThavetakenlongerthanthattoplaysuchhavoc.""The like of this has never been known in Prince Edward Island," said

Marilla, "never. I rememberwhen Iwasagirl therewasabad storm,but itwasnothingtothis.We'llhearofterribledestruction,youmaybesure.""I do hope none of the children were caught out in it," murmured Anne

anxiously.Asitwasdiscoveredlater,noneofthechildrenhadbeen,sinceallthosewhohadanydistancetogohadtakenMr.Andrews'excellentadviceandsoughtrefugeatthepostoffice."TherecomesJohnHenryCarter,"saidMarilla.JohnHenrycamewadingthroughthehailstoneswitharatherscaredgrin."Oh, ain't this awful,Miss Cuthbert?Mr.Harrison sentme over to see if

youshadcomeoutallright.""We're none of us killed," saidMarilla grimly, "andnone of the buildings

wasstruck.Ihopeyougotoffequallywell.""Yas'm.Not quite sowell,ma'am.Wewas struck. The lightning knocked

overthekitchenchimblyandcomedowntheflueandknockedoverGinger'scageandtoreaholeinthefloorandwentintothesullar.Yas'm.""WasGingerhurt?"queriedAnne."Yas'm.Hewashurtprettybad.Hewaskilled."LateronAnnewentoverto

comfortMr.Harrison. She found him sitting by the table, strokingGinger'sgaydeadbodywithatremblinghand."PoorGingerwon'tcallyouanymorenames,Anne,"hesaidmournfully.AnnecouldneverhaveimaginedherselfcryingonGinger'saccount,butthe

tearscameintohereyes."HewasallthecompanyIhad,Anne...andnowhe'sdead.Well,well,I'm

anoldfooltocaresomuch.I'llletonIdon'tcare.Iknowyou'regoingtosaysomethingsympatheticassoonasIstoptalking...butdon't.IfyoudidI'dcry

like a baby. Hasn't this been a terrible storm? I guess folks won't laugh atUncle Abe's predictions again. Seems as if all the storms that he's beenprophesyingallhislifethatneverhappenedcameallatonce.Beatsallhowhestruck theveryday though,don't it?Lookat themesswehavehere. Imusthustleroundandgetsomeboardstopatchupthatholeinthefloor."Avonlea folks did nothing the next day but visit each other and compare

damages.Theroadswereimpassableforwheelsbyreasonofthehailstones,sotheywalkedorrodeonhorseback.Themailcamelatewithilltidingsfromallover the province. Houses had been struck, people killed and injured; thewholetelephoneandtelegraphsystemhadbeendisorganized,andanynumberofyoungstockexposedinthefieldshadperished.Uncle Abewaded out to the blacksmith's forge early in themorning and

spentthewholedaythere.ItwasUncleAbe'shouroftriumphandheenjoyedittothefull.ItwouldbedoingUncleAbeaninjusticetosaythathewasgladthe storm had happened; but since it had to be he was very glad he hadpredictedit...totheveryday,too.UncleAbeforgotthathehadeverdeniedsettingtheday.Asforthetriflingdiscrepancyinthehour,thatwasnothing.GilbertarrivedatGreenGablesintheeveningandfoundMarillaandAnne

busilyengagedinnailingstripsofoilclothoverthebrokenwindows."Goodness only knowswhenwe'll get glass for them," saidMarilla. "Mr.

Barrywent over toCarmody this afternoon but not a pane could he get forloveormoney.LawsonandBlairwerecleanedoutbytheCarmodypeoplebyteno'clock.WasthestormbadatWhiteSands,Gilbert?""I should say so. I was caught in the school with all the children and I

thoughtsomeof themwouldgomadwithfright.Threeof themfainted,andtwogirlstookhysterics,andTommyBlewettdidnothingbutshriekatthetopofhisvoicethewholetime.""I only squealed once," said Davy proudly. "My garden was all smashed

flat,"hecontinuedmournfully,"butsowasDora's,"headdedinatonewhichindicatedthattherewasyetbalminGilead.Annecamerunningdownfromthewestgable."Oh,Gilbert, haveyouheard thenews?Mr.LeviBoulter's oldhousewas

struckandburnedtotheground.ItseemstomethatI'mdreadfullywickedtofeelgladoverTHAT,whensomuchdamagehasbeendone.Mr.BoultersayshebelievestheA.V.I.S.magickedupthatstormonpurpose.""Well, one thing is certain," said Gilbert, laughing, "'Observer' has made

UncleAbe'sreputationasaweatherprophet.'UncleAbe'sstorm'willgodowninlocalhistory.Itisamostextraordinarycoincidencethatitshouldhavecomeontheverydayweselected.Iactuallyhaveahalfguiltyfeeling,asifIreallyhad 'magicked' it up. We may as well rejoice over the old house beingremoved, for there's not much to rejoice over where our young trees are

concerned.Nottenofthemhaveescaped.""Ah,well,we'lljusthavetoplantthemoveragainnextspring,"saidAnne

philosophically."Thatisonegoodthingaboutthisworld...therearealwayssuretobemoresprings."

XXVAnAvonleaScandal

Oneblithe Junemorning, a fortnight afterUncleAbe's storm,Anne cameslowlythroughtheGreenGablesyardfromthegarden,carryinginherhandstwoblightedstalksofwhitenarcissus."Look,Marilla,"shesaidsorrowfully,holdinguptheflowersbeforetheeyes

ofagrimlady,withherhaircoifedinagreenginghamapron,whowasgoinginto the house with a plucked chicken, "these are the only buds the stormspared . . . andeven theyare imperfect. I'msosorry . . . IwantedsomeforMatthew'sgrave.HewasalwayssofondofJunelilies.""Ikindofmissthemmyself,"admittedMarilla,"thoughitdoesn'tseemright

to lament over themwhen somanyworse things have happened. . . all thecropsdestroyedaswellasthefruit.""Butpeoplehavesowntheiroatsoveragain,"saidAnnecomfortingly,"and

Mr.Harrisonsayshethinksifwehaveagoodsummertheywillcomeoutallrightthoughlate.Andmyannualsareallcomingupagain...butoh,nothingcanreplacetheJunelilies.PoorlittleHesterGraywillhavenoneeither.Iwentall thewaybacktohergardenlastnightbut therewasn'tone.I'msureshe'llmissthem.""Idon'tthinkit'srightforyoutosaysuchthings,Anne,Ireallydon't,"said

Marillaseverely."HesterGrayhasbeendeadforthirtyyearsandherspiritisinheaven...Ihope.""Yes, but I believe she loves and remembers her garden here still," said

Anne."I'msurenomatterhowlongI'dlivedinheavenI'dliketolookdownandseesomebodyputtingflowersonmygrave.IfIhadhadagardenherelikeHester Gray's it would take me more than thirty years, even in heaven, toforgetbeinghomesickforitbyspells.""Well, don't let the twins hear you talking like that,"wasMarilla's feeble

protest,asshecarriedherchickenintothehouse.Annepinnedhernarcissionherhairandwent to the lanegate,whereshe

stood for awhile sunning herself in the June brightness before going in toattendtoherSaturdaymorningduties.Theworldwasgrowinglovelyagain;oldMotherNaturewasdoingherbesttoremovethetracesofthestorm,and,

though she was not to succeed fully for many a moon, she was reallyaccomplishingwonders."Iwish I could justbe idleallday today,"Anne toldabluebird,whowas

singing and swinging on a willow bough, "but a schoolma'am, who is alsohelpingtobringuptwins,can'tindulgeinlaziness,birdie.Howsweetyouaresinging,littlebird.YouarejustputtingthefeelingsofmyheartintosongeversomuchbetterthanIcouldmyself.Why,whoiscoming?"Anexpresswagonwasjoltingupthelane,withtwopeopleonthefrontseat

andabigtrunkbehind.WhenitdrewnearAnnerecognizedthedriverasthesonofthestationagentatBrightRiver;buthiscompanionwasastranger...ascrapofawomanwhosprangnimblydownatthegatealmostbeforethehorsecametoastandstill.Shewasaveryprettylittleperson,evidentlynearerfiftythanforty,butwithrosycheeks,sparklingblackeyes,andshiningblackhair,surmounted by a wonderful beflowered and beplumed bonnet. In spite ofhavingdriveneightmilesoveradustyroadshewasasneatasifshehadjuststeppedoutoftheproverbialbandbox."IsthiswhereMr.JamesA.Harrisonlives?"sheinquiredbriskly."No,Mr.Harrisonlivesoverthere,"saidAnne,quitelostinastonishment."Well,IDIDthinkthisplaceseemedtootidy...MUCHtootidyforJames

A.tobelivinghere,unlesshehasgreatlychangedsinceIknewhim,"chirpedthelittlelady."IsittruethatJamesA.isgoingtobemarriedtosomewomanlivinginthissettlement?""No, oh no," cried Anne, flushing so guiltily that the stranger looked

curiously at her, as if she half suspected her ofmatrimonial designs onMr.Harrison."ButIsawitinanIslandpaper,"persistedtheFairUnknown."Afriendsent

amarkedcopytome...friendsarealwayssoreadytodosuchthings.JamesA.'snamewaswritteninover'newcitizen.'""Oh,thatnotewasonlymeantasajoke,"gaspedAnne."Mr.Harrisonhas

nointentionofmarryingANYBODY.Iassureyouhehasn't.""I'mveryglad tohear it," said the rosy lady, climbingnimblyback toher

seatinthewagon,"becausehehappenstobemarriedalready.Iamhiswife.Oh, youmaywell look surprised. I supposehehasbeenmasquerading as abachelor and breaking hearts right and left.Well, well, JamesA.," noddingvigorouslyoverthefieldsatthelongwhitehouse,"yourfunisover.Iamhere...thoughIwouldn'thavebotheredcomingifIhadn'tthoughtyouwereuptosomemischief.Isuppose,"turningtoAnne,"thatparrotofhisisasprofaneasever?""Hisparrot...isdead...ITHINK,"gaspedpoorAnne,whocouldn'thave

feltsureofherownnameatthatprecisemoment."Dead!Everythingwillbeall right then,"cried the rosy lady jubilantly. "I

canmanageJamesA.ifthatbirdisoutoftheway."WithwhichcrypticutteranceshewentjoyfullyonherwayandAnneflewto

thekitchendoortomeetMarilla."Anne,whowasthatwoman?""Marilla,"saidAnnesolemnly,butwithdancingeyes,"doIlookasifIwere

crazy?""Notmoresothanusual,"saidMarilla,withnothoughtofbeingsarcastic."Wellthen,doyouthinkIamawake?""Anne,whatnonsensehasgotintoyou?Whowasthatwoman,Isay?""Marilla,ifI'mnotcrazyandnotasleepshecan'tbesuchstuffasdreamsare

madeof...shemustbereal.Anyway,I'msureIcouldn'thaveimaginedsuchabonnet.ShesayssheisMr.Harrison'swife,Marilla."Marillastaredinherturn."Hiswife!AnneShirley!Thenwhathashebeenpassinghimselfoffasan

unmarriedmanfor?""Idon'tsupposehedid,really,"saidAnne,tryingtobejust."Heneversaid

hewasn'tmarried. People simply took it for granted.OhMarilla,whatwillMrs.Lyndesaytothis?"TheyfoundoutwhatMrs.Lyndehadtosaywhenshecameupthatevening.

Mrs.Lyndewasn't surprised!Mrs.Lyndehadalwaysexpectedsomethingofthe sort!Mrs.Lyndehad always known therewasSOMETHINGaboutMr.Harrison!"Tothinkofhisdesertinghiswife!"shesaidindignantly."It'slikesomething

you'dreadofintheStates,butwhowouldexpectsuchathingtohappenrighthereinAvonlea?""But we don't know that he deserted her," protested Anne, determined to

believeherfriendinnocenttillhewasprovedguilty."Wedon'tknowtherightsofitatall.""Well,we soonwill. I'mgoing straightover there," saidMrs.Lynde,who

hadneverlearnedthattherewassuchawordasdelicacyinthedictionary."I'mnot supposed to know anything about her arrival, andMr. Harrison was tobringsomemedicineforThomasfromCarmodytoday,sothatwillbeagoodexcuse. I'll find out the whole story and come in and tell you on the wayback."Mrs.LynderushedinwhereAnnehadfearedtotread.Nothingwouldhave

inducedthelattertogoovertotheHarrisonplace;butshehadhernaturalandpropershareofcuriosityandshefeltsecretlygladthatMrs.Lyndewasgoingtosolvethemystery.SheandMarillawaitedexpectantlyforthatgoodlady'sreturn,butwaitedinvain.Mrs.LyndedidnotrevisitGreenGablesthatnight.Davy,arrivinghomeatnineo'clockfromtheBoulterplace,explainedwhy.

"ImetMrs.Lyndeandsomestrangewoman in theHollow,"hesaid,"andgracious,howtheyweretalkingbothatonce!Mrs.Lyndesaidtotellyoushewassorryitwastoolatetocalltonight.Anne,I'mawfulhungry.WehadteaatMilty'sat fourand I thinkMrs.Boulter is realmean.Shedidn'tgiveusanypreservesorcake...andeventhebreadwasskurce.""Davy,whenyougovisitingyoumustnevercriticizeanythingyouaregiven

toeat,"saidAnnesolemnly."Itisverybadmanners.""All right . . . I'll only think it," saidDavy cheerfully. "Do give a fellow

somesupper,Anne."AnnelookedatMarilla,whofollowedherintothepantryandshutthedoor

cautiously."Youcangivehimsomejamonhisbread,IknowwhatteaatLeviBoulter's

isapttobe."Davytookhissliceofbreadandjamwithasigh."It'sakindofdisappointingworldafterall,"heremarked."Miltyhasacat

thattakesfits...she'stookafitregulareverydayforthreeweeks.Miltysaysit'sawfulfuntowatchher.Iwentdowntodayonpurposetoseeherhaveonebut themean old thingwouldn't take a fit and just kept healthy as healthy,though Milty and me hung round all the afternoon and waited. But nevermind"...Davybrightenedupastheinsidiouscomfortoftheplumjamstoleintohissoul..."maybeI'llseeherinonesometimeyet.Itdoesn'tseemlikelyshe'dstophavingthemallatoncewhenshe'sbeensointhehabitofit,doesit?Thisjamisawfulnice."Davyhadnosorrowsthatplumjamcouldnotcure.Sundayproved so rainy that therewasno stirring abroad; but byMonday

everybodyhadheardsomeversionof theHarrisonstory.TheschoolbuzzedwithitandDavycamehome,fullofinformation."Marilla,Mr.Harrisonhasanewwife...well,notezacklynew,butthey've

stoppedbeingmarried for quite a spell,Milty says. I always s'posedpeoplehad to keep on beingmarried once they'd begun, butMilty says no, there'swaysofstoppingifyoucan'tagree.Miltysaysonewayisjusttostartoffandleaveyourwife,andthat'swhatMr.Harrisondid.MiltysaysMr.Harrisonlefthiswifebecauseshe throwed thingsathim . . .HARDthings . . . andArtySloanesaysitwasbecauseshewouldn'tlethimsmoke,andNedClaysaysitwas 'cause she never let up scolding him. I wouldn't leave MY wife foranythinglikethat.I'djustputmyfootdownandsay, 'Mrs.Davy,you'vejustgottodowhat'llpleaseME'causeI'maMAN.'THAT'DsettleherprettyquickIguess.ButAnnettaClaysaysSHEleftHIMbecausehewouldn'tscrapehisboots at the door and she doesn't blame her. I'm going right over to Mr.Harrison'sthisminutetoseewhatshe'slike."Davysoonreturned,somewhatcastdown.

"Mrs. Harrison was away . . . she's gone to Carmody with Mrs. RachelLyndetogetnewpaperfortheparlor.AndMr.HarrisonsaidtotellAnnetogooverandseehim'causehewantstohaveatalkwithher.Andsay,thefloorisscrubbed, and Mr. Harrison is shaved, though there wasn't any preachingyesterday."TheHarrisonkitchenworeaveryunfamiliar look toAnne.The floorwas

indeed scrubbed to a wonderful pitch of purity and sowas every article offurnitureintheroom;thestovewaspolisheduntilshecouldseeherfaceinit;thewallswerewhitewashedand thewindowpanes sparkled in the sunlight.BythetablesatMr.Harrisoninhisworkingclothes,whichonFridayhadbeennoted for sundry rents and tatters but which were now neatly patched andbrushed. He was sprucely shaved and what little hair he had was carefullytrimmed."Sit down,Anne, sit down," saidMr.Harrison in a tone but two degrees

removedfromthatwhichAvonleapeopleusedatfunerals."Emily'sgoneoverto Carmody with Rachel Lynde . . . she's struck up a lifelong friendshipalreadywithRachelLynde.Beats all howcontrarywomenare.Well,Anne,myeasytimesareover . . .allover.It'sneatnessandtidinessformefor therestofmynaturallife,Isuppose."Mr.Harrisondidhisbesttospeakdolefully,butanirrepressibletwinklein

hiseyebetrayedhim."Mr.Harrison,youaregladyourwife iscomeback,"criedAnne,shaking

her finger at him. "You needn't pretend you're not, because I can see itplainly."Mr.Harrisonrelaxedintoasheepishsmile."Well . . .well . . . I'mgettingused to it,"heconceded."Ican'tsayIwas

sorrytoseeEmily.Amanreallyneedssomeprotectioninacommunitylikethis,where he can't play a gameof checkerswith a neighborwithout beingaccused of wanting to marry that neighbor's sister and having it put in thepaper.""Nobody would have supposed you went to see Isabella Andrews if you

hadn'tpretendedtobeunmarried,"saidAnneseverely."Ididn'tpretendIwas.Ifanybody'dhaveaskedmeifIwasmarriedI'dhave

saidIwas.Buttheyjusttookitforgranted.Iwasn'tanxioustotalkaboutthematter . . . Iwas feeling too sore over it. Itwould have been nuts forMrs.RachelLyndeifshehadknownmywifehadleftme,wouldn'titnow?""Butsomepeoplesaythatyoulefther.""Shestartedit,Anne,shestartedit.I'mgoingtotellyouthewholestory,for

Idon'twantyoutothinkworseofmethanIdeserve...norofEmilyneither.Butlet'sgooutontheveranda.Everythingissofearfulneatinherethatitkindofmakesmehomesick.IsupposeI'llgetusedtoitafterawhilebutiteasesme

uptolookattheyard.Emilyhasn'thadtimetotidyitupyet."AssoonastheywerecomfortablyseatedontheverandaMr.Harrisonbegan

histaleofwoe."IlivedinScottsford,NewBrunswick,beforeIcamehere,Anne.Mysister

kepthouseformeandshesuitedmefine;shewasjustreasonablytidyandsheletmealoneandspoiledme...soEmilysays.Butthreeyearsagoshedied.Beforeshediedsheworriedalotaboutwhatwastobecomeofmeandfinallyshe gotme to promise I'd getmarried. She advisedme to takeEmily ScottbecauseEmilyhadmoneyofherownandwasapatternhousekeeper.Isaid,saysI,'EmilyScottwouldn'tlookatme.''Youaskherandsee,'saysmysister;andjusttoeasehermindIpromisedherIwould...andIdid.AndEmilysaidshe'dhaveme.Neverwassosurprisedinmylife,Anne...asmartprettylittlewomanlikeherandanoldfellowlikeme.ItellyouIthoughtatfirstIwasinluck.Well,weweremarried and took a littlewedding trip toSt. John for afortnightandthenwewenthome.Wegothomeatteno'clockatnight,andIgive you my word, Anne, that in half an hour that woman was at workhousecleaning.Oh,Iknowyou'rethinkingmyhouseneededit...you'vegotaveryexpressiveface,Anne;yourthoughtsjustcomeoutonitlikeprint...but it didn't, not that bad. It had got pretty mixed up while I was keepingbachelor'shall,Iadmit,butI'dgotawomantocomeinandcleanitupbeforeIwasmarriedandthere'dbeenconsiderablepaintingandfixingdone.Itellyouif you took Emily into a brand new white marble palace she'd be into thescrubbingassoonasshecouldgetanolddresson.Well,shecleanedhousetilloneo'clockthatnightandatfourshewasupandatitagain.Andshekeptonthatway...far'sIcouldseesheneverstopped.Itwasscourandsweepanddusteverlasting,exceptonSundays,andthenshewasjustlongingforMondayto begin again. But it was her way of amusing herself and I could havereconciledmyselftoitifshe'dleftmealone.Butthatshewouldn'tdo.She'dset out tomakeme over but she hadn't caughtme young enough. I wasn'tallowedtocomeintothehouseunlessIchangedmybootsforslippersatthedoor.Idarsn'tsmokeapipeformylifeunlessIwenttothebarn.AndIdidn'tusegoodenoughgrammar.Emily'dbeenaschoolteacherinherearlylifeandshe'dnevergotoverit.Thenshehatedtoseemeeatingwithmyknife.Well,there itwas, pick and nag everlasting. But I s'pose,Anne, to be fair, I wascantankerous too.Ididn't try to improveasImighthavedone . . . I justgotcrankyanddisagreeablewhenshe found fault. I toldheronedayshehadn'tcomplainedofmygrammarwhenIproposedtoher.Itwasn'tanoverlytactfulthing to say.Awomanwould forgiveaman forbeatingher sooner than forhintingshewastoomuchpleasedtogethim.Well,webickeredalonglikethatanditwasn'texactlypleasant,butwemighthavegotusedtoeachotherafteraspellifithadn'tbeenforGinger.Gingerwastherockwesplitonatlast.Emilydidn't likeparrotsandshecouldn'tstandGinger'sprofanehabitsofspeech.I

wasattachedtothebirdformybrotherthesailor'ssake.Mybrotherthesailorwasapetofminewhenwewerelittletadsandhe'dsentGingertomewhenhewas dying. I didn't see any sense in getting worked up over his swearing.There's nothing I hate worse'n profanity in a human being, but in a parrot,that's justrepeatingwhat it'sheardwithnomoreunderstandingof it thanI'dhave of Chinese, allowancesmight bemade. But Emily couldn't see it thatway.Womenain'tlogical.ShetriedtobreakGingerofswearingbutshehadn'tanybettersuccessthanshehadintryingtomakemestopsaying'Iseen'and'themthings.'Seemedasif themoreshetriedtheworseGingergot,sameasme."Well,thingswentonlikethis,bothofusgettingraspier,tilltheCLIMAX

came.Emilyinvitedourministerandhiswifetotea,andanotherministerandHISwifethatwasvisitingthem.I'dpromisedtoputGingerawayinsomesafeplacewherenobodywouldhearhim...Emilywouldn'ttouchhiscagewithaten-footpole . . .andImeant todoit, forIdidn'twanttheministers tohearanything unpleasant in my house. But it slipped my mind . . . Emily wasworrying me so much about clean collars and grammar that it wasn't anywonder...andIneverthoughtofthatpoorparrottillwesatdowntotea.Justasministernumberonewasintheverymiddleofsayinggrace,Ginger,whowasontheverandaoutsidethediningroomwindow,liftedupHISvoice.Thegobblerhadcomeintoviewintheyardandthesightofagobbleralwayshadan unwholesome effect onGinger.He surpassed himself that time.You cansmile,Anne,andIdon'tdenyI'vechuckledsomeoveritsincemyself,butatthe time I felt almost as much mortified as Emily. I went out and carriedGingertothebarn.Ican'tsayIenjoyedthemeal.IknewbythelookofEmilythattherewastroublebrewingforGingerandJamesA.WhenthefolkswentawayIstartedforthecowpastureandonthewayIdidsomethinking.Ifeltsorry for Emily and kind of fancied I hadn't been so thoughtful of her as Imight;andbesides, Iwondered if theministerswould think thatGingerhadlearnedhisvocabularyfromme.Thelongandshortofitwas,IdecidedthatGingerwouldhavetobemercifullydisposedofandwhenI'ddruvthecowshomeIwentintotellEmilyso.ButtherewasnoEmilyandtherewasaletteronthetable . . . justaccordingtotheruleinstorybooks.Emilywrit thatI'dhavetochoosebetweenherandGinger;she'dgonebacktoherownhouseandthereshewouldstaytillIwentandtoldherI'dgotridofthatparrot."I was all riled up, Anne, and I said shemight stay till doomsday if she

waited for that; and I stuck to it. I packedupher belongings and sent themafterher.Itmadeanawfullotoftalk...ScottsfordwasprettynearasbadasAvonleaforgossip...andeverybodysympathizedwithEmily.Itkeptmeallcross and cantankerous and I saw I'd have to get out or I'd never have anypeace.IconcludedI'dcometotheIsland.I'dbeenherewhenIwasaboyandIliked it; butEmilyhadalways said shewouldn't live in aplacewhere folks

werescaredtowalkoutafterdarkforfearthey'dfallofftheedge.So,justtobecontrary,Imovedoverhere.Andthat'sallthereistoit.Ihadn'teverheardawordfromoraboutEmilytillIcomehomefromthebackfieldSaturdayandfoundherscrubbingthefloorbutwiththefirstdecentdinnerI'dhadsincesheleftmeallreadyonthetable.Shetoldmetoeatitfirstandthenwe'dtalk...bywhichIconcludedthatEmilyhadlearnedsomelessonsaboutgettingalongwithaman.Soshe'shereandshe'sgoingtostay...seeingthatGinger'sdeadand the Island's some bigger than she thought. There'sMrs. Lynde and hernow.No,don'tgo,Anne.StayandgetacquaintedwithEmily.ShetookquiteanotiontoyouSaturday...wantedtoknowwhothathandsomeredhairedgirlwasatthenexthouse."Mrs.HarrisonwelcomedAnneradiantlyandinsistedonherstayingtotea."James A. has been telling me all about you and how kind you've been,

makingcakesandthingsforhim,"shesaid."Iwanttogetacquaintedwithallmy newneighbors just as soon as possible.Mrs.Lynde is a lovelywoman,isn'tshe?Sofriendly."WhenAnnewenthomeinthesweetJunedusk,Mrs.Harrisonwentwithher

acrossthefieldswherethefireflieswerelightingtheirstarrylamps."Isuppose,"saidMrs.Harrisonconfidentially,"thatJamesA.hastoldyou

ourstory?""Yes.""ThenIneedn'ttellit,forJamesA.isajustmanandhewouldtellthetruth.

Theblamewasfarfrombeingallonhisside.Icanseethatnow.Iwasn'tbackinmyownhouseanhourbeforeIwishedIhadn'tbeensohastybutIwouldn'tgivein.IseenowthatIexpectedtoomuchofaman.AndIwasrealfoolishtomindhis badgrammar. It doesn'tmatter if amandoesusebadgrammar solongashe isagoodprovideranddoesn'tgopoking round thepantry toseehowmuchsugaryou'veusedinaweek.IfeelthatJamesA.andIaregoingtoberealhappynow.IwishIknewwho'Observer'is,sothatIcouldthankhim.Iowehimarealdebtofgratitude."AnnekeptherowncounselandMrs.Harrisonneverknewthathergratitude

founditswayto itsobject.Annefeltratherbewilderedover thefar-reachingconsequencesofthosefoolish"notes."Theyhadreconciledamantohiswifeandmadethereputationofaprophet.Mrs.LyndewasintheGreenGableskitchen.Shehadbeentellingthewhole

storytoMarilla."Well,andhowdoyoulikeMrs.Harrison?"sheaskedAnne."Verymuch.Ithinkshe'sarealnicelittlewoman.""That's exactlywhat she is," saidMrs.Rachelwithemphasis, "andas I've

just been sayin' toMarilla, I think we ought all to overlookMr. Harrison'speculiarities forher sakeand try tomakeher feelathomehere, that'swhat.

Well, Imustgetback.Thomas'llbewearying forme. Igetouta little sinceElizacameandhe'sseemedalotbetterthesepastfewdays,butIneverliketobelongawayfromhim.IhearGilbertBlythehasresignedfromWhiteSands.He'llbeofftocollegeinthefall,Isuppose."Mrs.Rachel lookedsharplyatAnne,butAnnewasbendingovera sleepy

Davynoddingonthesofaandnothingwastobereadinherface.ShecarriedDavyaway,herovalgirlishcheekpressedagainsthiscurlyyellowhead.AstheywentupthestairsDavyflungatiredarmaboutAnne'sneckandgaveherawarmhugandastickykiss."You're awful nice, Anne. Milty Boulter wrote on his slate today and

showedittoJennieSloane,"'Rosesredandvi'letsblue,

Sugar'ssweet,andsoareyou"

andthat'spressesmyfeelingsforyouezackly,Anne."

XXVIAroundtheBend

ThomasLyndefadedoutoflifeasquietlyandunobtrusivelyashehadlivedit. His wife was a tender, patient, unwearied nurse. Sometimes Rachel hadbeenalittlehardonherThomasinhealth,whenhisslownessormeeknesshadprovokedher;butwhenhebecameillnovoicecouldbelower,nohandmoregentlyskillful,novigilmoreuncomplaining."You've been a goodwife tome,Rachel," he once said simply,when she

was sitting by him in the dusk, holding his thin, blanched old hand in herwork-hardenedone."Agoodwife.I'msorryIain'tleavingyoubetteroff;butthechildrenwill lookafteryou.They'reallsmart,capablechildren, just liketheirmother.Agoodmother...agoodwoman...."Hehadfallenasleepthen,andthenextmorning,justasthewhitedawnwas

creepingupover the pointed firs in the hollow,Marillawent softly into theeastgableandwakenedAnne."Anne,ThomasLyndeisgone...theirhiredboyjustbroughttheword.I'm

goingrightdowntoRachel."OnthedayafterThomasLynde'sfuneralMarillawentaboutGreenGables

withastrangelypreoccupiedair.OccasionallyshelookedatAnne,seemedonthe point of saying something, then shook her head and buttoned up hermouth.After tea shewentdown to seeMrs.Rachel; andwhen she returnedshewenttotheeastgable,whereAnnewascorrectingschoolexercises."HowisMrs.Lyndetonight?"askedthelatter.

"She'sfeelingcalmerandmorecomposed,"answeredMarilla,sittingdownon Anne's bed . . . a proceeding which betokened some unusual mentalexcitement,forinMarilla'scodeofhouseholdethicstositonabedafteritwasmadeupwasanunpardonableoffense."Butshe'sverylonely.Elizahadtogohometoday...hersonisn'twellandshefeltshecouldn'tstayanylonger.""WhenI'vefinishedtheseexercisesI'llrundownandchatawhilewithMrs.

Lynde,"saidAnne."Ihad intended tostudysomeLatincomposition tonightbutitcanwait.""IsupposeGilbertBlytheisgoingtocollegeinthefall,"saidMarillajerkily.

"Howwouldyouliketogotoo,Anne?"Annelookedupinastonishment."Iwouldlikeit,ofcourse,Marilla.Butitisn'tpossible.""I guess it can bemadepossible. I've always felt that you should go. I've

neverfelteasytothinkyouweregivingitalluponmyaccount.""ButMarilla, I've never been sorry for amoment that I stayedhome. I've

beensohappy...Oh,thesepasttwoyearshavejustbeendelightful.""Oh,yes,Iknowyou'vebeencontentedenough.Butthatisn't thequestion

exactly.Yououghttogoonwithyoureducation.You'vesavedenoughtoputyouthroughoneyearatRedmondandthemoneythestockbroughtinwilldoforanotheryear...andthere'sscholarshipsandthingsyoumightwin.""Yes,butIcan'tgo,Marilla.Youreyesarebetter,ofcourse;butIcan'tleave

youalonewiththetwins.Theyneedsomuchlookingafter.""Iwon'tbealonewiththem.That'swhatImeanttodiscusswithyou.Ihada

long talkwithRachel tonight.Anne, she's feeling dreadful bad over a goodmany things. She's not left verywell off. It seems theymortgaged the farmeight years ago to give the youngest boy a start when he went west; andthey'veneverbeenabletopaymuchmorethantheinterestsince.AndthenofcourseThomas'illnesshascostagooddeal,onewayoranother.ThefarmwillhavetobesoldandRachelthinksthere'llbehardlyanythingleftafterthebillsaresettled.Shesaysshe'llhavetogoandlivewithElizaandit'sbreakingherheart to think of leaving Avonlea. A woman of her age doesn't make newfriendsandinterestseasy.And,Anne,asshetalkedaboutitthethoughtcametomethatIwouldaskhertocomeandlivewithme,butIthoughtIoughttotalkitoverwithyoufirstbeforeIsaidanythingtoher.IfIhadRachellivingwithmeyoucouldgotocollege.Howdoyoufeelaboutit?""Ifeel...asif...somebody...hadhandedme...themoon...andI

didn'tknow...exactly...whattodo...withit,"saidAnnedazedly."ButasforaskingMrs.Lyndetocomehere,thatisforyoutodecide,Marilla.Doyouthink...areyousure...youwouldlikeit?Mrs.Lyndeisagoodwomanandakindneighbor,but...but...""But she'sgother faults,youmean to say?Well, shehas,ofcourse;but I

think I'd rather put upwith farworse faults than seeRachel go away fromAvonlea.I'dmissherterrible.She'stheonlyclosefriendI'vegothereandI'dbelostwithouther.We'vebeenneighborsforforty-fiveyearsandwe'veneverhadaquarrel . . . thoughwecame rathernear it that timeyou flewatMrs.Rachelforcallingyouhomelyandredhaired.Doyouremember,Anne?""I should think I do," saidAnne ruefully. "People don't forget things like

that.HowIhatedpoorMrs.Rachelatthatmoment!""And then that 'apology' you made her. Well, you were a handful, in all

conscience,Anne. Ididfeelsopuzzledandbewilderedhowtomanageyou.Matthewunderstoodyoubetter.""Matthewunderstoodeverything,"saidAnnesoftly,asshealwaysspokeof

him."Well,IthinkitcouldbemanagedsothatRachelandIwouldn'tclashatall.

It always seemed to me that the reason two women can't get along in onehouse is that they try to share the samekitchenandget ineachother'sway.Now,ifRachelcamehere,shecouldhavethenorthgableforherbedroomandthespare roomforakitchenaswellasnot, forwedon't reallyneedaspareroomat all. She couldput her stove there andwhat furniture shewanted tokeep,andberealcomfortableandindependent.She'llhaveenoughtoliveonofcourse...herchildren'llseetothat...soallI'dbegivingherwouldbehouseroom.Yes,Anne,farasI'mconcernedI'dlikeit.""Thenaskher," saidAnnepromptly. "I'dbeverysorrymyself to seeMrs.

Rachelgoaway.""And if she comes," continuedMarilla, "You cango to college aswell as

not.She'llbecompanyformeandshe'lldofor the twinswhatIcan'tdo,sothere'snoreasonintheworldwhyyoushouldn'tgo."Anne had a long meditation at her window that night. Joy and regret

struggled together in her heart. She had come at last . . . suddenly andunexpectedly . . . to thebend in the road;andcollegewasaround it,withahundredrainbowhopesandvisions;butAnnerealizedaswellthatwhensheroundedthatcurveshemust leavemanysweet thingsbehind. . .all thelittlesimple duties and interests which had grown so dear to her in the last twoyearsandwhichshehadglorified intobeautyanddelightby theenthusiasmshehadputintothem.Shemustgiveupherschool . . .andshelovedeveryoneofherpupils,eventhestupidandnaughtyones.ThemerethoughtofPaulIrvingmadeherwonder ifRedmondweresuchanametoconjurewithafterall."I'veputoutalotoflittlerootsthesetwoyears,"Annetoldthemoon,"and

when I'm pulled up they're going to hurt a great deal. But it's best to go, Ithink,and,asMarillasays,there'snogoodreasonwhyIshouldn't.Imustgetoutallmyambitionsanddustthem."

Annesentinherresignationthenextday;andMrs.Rachel,afterahearttoheart talk with Marilla, gratefully accepted the offer of a home at GreenGables.Sheelectedtoremaininherownhouseforthesummer,however;thefarmwasnottobesolduntilthefallandthereweremanyarrangementstobemade."I certainly never thought of living as far off the road as GreenGables,"

sighedMrs.Racheltoherself."Butreally,GreenGablesdoesn'tseemasoutoftheworldasitusedtodo...Annehaslotsofcompanyandthetwinsmakeitreal lively. And anyhow, I'd rather live at the bottom of a well than leaveAvonlea."ThesetwodecisionsbeingnoisedabroadspeedilyoustedthearrivalofMrs.

Harrison inpopulargossip.Sageheadswere shakenoverMarillaCuthbert'srash step in asking Mrs. Rachel to live with her. People opined that theywouldn't get on together. Theywere both "too fond of their ownway," andmanydoleful predictionsweremade, noneofwhichdisturbed theparties inquestion at all. They had come to a clear and distinct understanding of therespectivedutiesandrightsoftheirnewarrangementsandmeanttoabidebythem."Iwon'tmeddlewithyounoryouwithme,"Mrs.Rachelhadsaiddecidedly,

"andasforthetwins,I'llbegladtodoallIcanforthem;butIwon'tundertaketoanswerDavy'squestions,that'swhat.I'mnotanencyclopedia,neitheramIaPhiladelphialawyer.You'llmissAnneforthat.""SometimesAnne'sanswerswereaboutasqueerasDavy'squestions,"said

Marilladrily."Thetwinswillmissherandnomistake;butherfuturecan'tbesacrificed to Davy's thirst for information. When he asks questions I can'tanswerI'lljusttellhimchildrenshouldbeseenandnotheard.ThatwashowIwasbroughtup,and Idon'tknowbutwhat itwas just asgoodawayasallthesenew-fanglednotionsfortrainingchildren.""Well, Anne'smethods seem to haveworked fairlywellwithDavy," said

Mrs.Lyndesmilingly."Heisareformedcharacter,that'swhat.""He isn't a bad little soul," concededMarilla. "I never expected to get as

fondofthosechildrenasIhave.Davygetsroundyousomehow...andDoraisalovelychild,althoughsheis...kindof...well,kindof...""Monotonous? Exactly," suppliedMrs. Rachel. "Like a bookwhere every

pageisthesame,that'swhat.Dorawillmakeagood,reliablewomanbutshe'llnever set the pond on fire.Well, that sort of folks are comfortable to haveround,evenifthey'renotasinterestingastheotherkind."GilbertBlythewasprobably theonlyperson towhom thenewsofAnne's

resignation brought unmixed pleasure.Her pupils looked upon it as a sheercatastrophe. Annetta Bell had hystericswhen shewent home.Anthony Pyefought two pitched and unprovoked battles with other boys by way of

relievinghisfeelings.BarbaraShawcriedallnight.PaulIrvingdefiantlytoldhisgrandmotherthatsheneedn'texpecthimtoeatanyporridgeforaweek."I can't do it, Grandma," he said. "I don't really know if I can eat

ANYTHING.Ifeelasiftherewasadreadfullumpinmythroat.I'dhavecriedcominghomefromschoolifJakeDonnellhadn'tbeenwatchingme.IbelieveIwillcryafterIgotobed.Itwouldn'tshowonmyeyestomorrow,wouldit?Anditwouldbesucharelief.Butanyway,Ican'teatporridge.I'mgoingtoneed allmy strength ofmind to bear up against this,Grandma, and Iwon'thaveanylefttograpplewithporridge.OhGrandma,Idon'tknowwhatI'lldowhen my beautiful teacher goes away. Milty Boulter says he bets JaneAndrewswillgettheschool.IsupposeMissAndrewsisverynice.ButIknowshewon'tunderstandthingslikeMissShirley."Dianaalsotookaverypessimisticviewofaffairs."Itwillbehorribly lonesomeherenextwinter," shemourned,one twilight

when themoonlightwas raining"airysilver" through thecherryboughsandfillingtheeastgablewithasoft,dream-likeradianceinwhichthetwogirlssatandtalked,Anneonherlowrockerbythewindow,DianasittingTurkfashionon thebed. "YouandGilbertwillbegone . . . and theAllans too.Theyaregoing to callMr.Allan toCharlottetown and of course he'll accept. It's toomean.We'llbevacantallwinter,Isuppose,andhavetolistentoalongstringofcandidates...andhalfofthemwon'tbeanygood.""I hope theywon't callMr.Baxter fromEastGrafton here, anyhow," said

Annedecidedly."Hewantsthecallbuthedoespreachsuchgloomysermons.Mr.Bell says he's aminister of the old school, butMrs. Lynde says there'snothingwhatever thematterwith him but indigestion.Hiswife isn't a verygood cook, it seems, andMrs. Lynde says thatwhen aman has to eat sourbread two weeks out of three his theology is bound to get a kink in itsomewhere. Mrs. Allan feels very badly about going away. She sayseverybodyhasbeensokindtohersinceshecamehereasabridethatshefeelsasifshewereleavinglifelongfriends.Andthen,there'sthebaby'sgrave,youknow.Shesaysshedoesn'tseehowshecangoawayandleavethat...itwassuch a littlemite of a thing and only threemonths old, and she says she isafraiditwillmissitsmother,althoughsheknowsbetterandwouldn'tsaysotoMr.Allanforanything.Shesaysshehasslippedthroughthebirchgrovebackofthemansenearlyeverynighttothegraveyardandsungalittlelullabytoit.ShetoldmeallaboutitlasteveningwhenIwasupputtingsomeofthoseearlywildrosesonMatthew'sgrave.IpromisedherthataslongasIwasinAvonleaIwouldputflowersonthebaby'sgraveandwhenIwasawayIfeltsurethat...""ThatIwoulddoit,"suppliedDianaheartily."OfcourseIwill.AndI'llput

themonMatthew'sgravetoo,foryoursake,Anne."

"Oh, thank you. Imeant to ask you to if youwould.And on littleHesterGray'stoo?Pleasedon'tforgethers.Doyouknow,I'vethoughtanddreamedsomuchabout littleHesterGraythatshehasbecomestrangelyreal tome.Ithinkofher,backthereinherlittlegardeninthatcool,still,greencorner;andIhaveafancythatifIcouldstealbacktheresomespringevening,justatthemagictime'twixtlightanddark,andtiptoesosoftlyupthebeechhillthatmyfootstepscouldnotfrightenher,Iwouldfindthegardenjustasitusedtobe,all sweetwith June lilies and early roses,with the tiny house beyond it allhungwithvines;andlittleHesterGraywouldbethere,withhersofteyes,andthewindrufflingherdarkhair,wanderingabout,puttingherfingertipsunderthechinsof the liliesandwhisperingsecretswith the roses;and Iwouldgoforward, oh, so softly, and hold outmy hands and say to her, 'LittleHesterGray,won'tyou letmebeyourplaymate, for I love the roses too?'Andwewouldsitdownontheoldbenchandtalkalittleanddreamalittle,orjustbebeautifully silent together.And then themoonwould rise and Iwould lookaroundme . . . and therewould be noHesterGray and no little vine-hunghouse,andnoroses...onlyanoldwastegardenstarredwithJuneliliesamidthegrasses,andthewindsighing,oh,sosorrowfullyinthecherrytrees.AndIwouldnotknowwhetherithadbeenrealorifIhadjustimagineditall."Dianacrawled up and got her back against the headboard of the bed.When yourcompanionoftwilighthoursaidsuchspookythingsitwasjustaswellnottobeabletofancytherewasanythingbehindyou."I'mafraidtheImprovementSocietywillgodownwhenyouandGilbertare

bothgone,"sheremarkeddolefully."Notabitoffearofit,"saidAnnebriskly,comingbackfromdreamlandto

the affairs of practical life. "It is too firmly established for that, especiallysincetheolderpeoplearebecomingsoenthusiasticaboutit.Lookwhattheyaredoingthissummerfortheirlawnsandlanes.Besides,I'llbewatchingforhints at Redmond and I'll write a paper for it nextwinter and send it over.Don'ttakesuchagloomyviewofthings,Diana.Anddon'tgrudgememylittlehourofgladnessandjubilationnow.Lateron,whenIhavetogoaway,I'llfeelanythingbutglad.""It'sallrightforyoutobeglad...you'regoingtocollegeandyou'llhavea

jollytimeandmakeheapsoflovelynewfriends.""IhopeIshallmakenewfriends,"saidAnnethoughtfully."Thepossibilities

ofmakingnewfriendshelptomakelifeveryfascinating.Butnomatterhowmany friends I make they'll never be as dear to me as the old ones . . .especiallyacertaingirlwithblackeyesanddimples.Canyouguesswhosheis,Diana?""But there'llbesomanyclevergirlsatRedmond,"sighedDiana,"andI'm

onlyastupidlittlecountrygirlwhosays'Iseen'sometimes...thoughIreallyknowbetterwhen I stop to think.Well,of course thesepast twoyearshave

really been too pleasant to last. I know SOMEBODYwho is glad you aregoing to Redmond anyhow. Anne, I'm going to ask you a question . . . aserious question. Don't be vexed and do answer seriously. Do you careanythingforGilbert?""Ever somuchasa friendandnotabit in thewayyoumean," saidAnne

calmlyanddecidedly;shealsothoughtshewasspeakingsincerely.Dianasighed.Shewished,somehow,thatAnnehadanswereddifferently."Don'tyoumeanEVERtobemarried,Anne?""Perhaps...someday...whenImeettherightone,"saidAnne,smiling

dreamilyupatthemoonlight."Buthowcanyoubesurewhenyoudomeettherightone?"persistedDiana."Oh,Ishouldknowhim...SOMETHINGwouldtellme.Youknowwhat

myidealis,Diana.""Butpeople'sidealschangesometimes.""Minewon't.AndICOULDN'Tcareforanymanwhodidn'tfulfillit.""Whatifyounevermeethim?""ThenIshalldieanoldmaid,"wasthecheerfulresponse."Idaresayitisn't

thehardestdeathbyanymeans.""Oh,Isupposethedyingwouldbeeasyenough;it'sthelivinganoldmaidI

shouldn'tlike,"saidDiana,withnointentionofbeinghumorous."AlthoughIwouldn't mind being an oldmaid VERYmuch if I could be one likeMissLavendar.ButInevercouldbe.WhenI'mforty-fiveI'llbehorriblyfat.Andwhile there might be some romance about a thin old maid there couldn'tpossibly be any about a fat one. Oh,mind you,NelsonAtkins proposed toRubyGillisthreeweeksago.Rubytoldmeallaboutit.Shesayssheneverhadanyintentionoftakinghim,becauseanyonewhomarriedhimwillhavetogoinwith theold folks;butRubysays thathemade suchaperfectlybeautifulandromanticproposalthatitsimplysweptheroffherfeet.Butshedidn'twanttodoanythingrashsosheaskedforaweektoconsider;andtwodayslatershewasatameetingof theSewingCircleathismother'sand therewasabookcalled'TheCompleteGuidetoEtiquette,'lyingontheparlortable.Rubysaidshesimplycouldn'tdescribeherfeelingswheninasectionofitheaded,'TheDeportmentofCourtshipandMarriage,' she found theveryproposalNelsonhadmade,wordforword.Shewenthomeandwrotehimaperfectlyscathingrefusal;andshesayshisfatherandmotherhavetakenturnswatchinghimeversinceforfearhe'lldrownhimself intheriver;butRubysaystheyneedn'tbeafraid;forintheDeportmentofCourtshipandMarriageittoldhowarejectedlover should behave and there's nothing about drowning in THAT.And shesaysWilburBlairisliterallypiningawayforherbutshe'sperfectlyhelplessinthematter."

Annemadeanimpatientmovement."Ihatetosayit...itseemssodisloyal...but,well,Idon'tlikeRubyGillis

now.IlikedherwhenwewenttoschoolandQueen'stogether...thoughnotsowellasyouandJaneofcourse.ButthislastyearatCarmodysheseemssodifferent...so...so...""Iknow,"noddedDiana."It'stheGilliscomingoutinher...shecan'thelp

it.Mrs. Lynde says that if ever aGillis girl thought about anything but theboys she never showed it in her walk and conversation. She talks aboutnothingbutboysandwhatcomplimentstheypayher,andhowcrazytheyallareaboutheratCarmody.Andthestrangethingis,theyARE,too..."Dianaadmittedthissomewhatresentfully."LastnightwhenIsawherinMr.Blair'sstoreshewhisperedtomethatshe'djustmadeanew'mash.'Iwouldn'taskherwhoitwas,becauseIknewshewasdyingtoBEasked.Well,it'swhatRubyalwayswanted,Isuppose.Yourememberevenwhenshewaslittleshealwayssaidshemeanttohavedozensofbeauswhenshegrewupandhavetheverygayest time shecouldbefore she settleddown.She's sodifferent fromJane,isn'tshe?Janeissuchanice,sensible,lady-likegirl.""DearoldJaneisajewel,"agreedAnne,"but,"sheadded,leaningforward

to bestow a tender pat on the plump, dimpled little hand hanging over herpillow, "there's nobody likemy ownDiana after all.Do you remember thateveningwe firstmet, Diana, and 'swore' eternal friendship in your garden?We've kept that 'oath,' I think . . . we've never had a quarrel nor even acoolness.Ishallneverforgetthethrillthatwentovermethedayyoutoldmeyoulovedme.Ihadhadsuchalonely,starvedheartallthroughmychildhood.I'm just beginning to realize how starved and lonely it really was. Nobodycaredanythingformeorwantedtobebotheredwithme.Ishouldhavebeenmiserableifithadn'tbeenforthatstrangelittledream-lifeofmine,whereinIimaginedallthefriendsandloveIcraved.ButwhenIcametoGreenGableseverything was changed. And then I met you. You don't know what yourfriendshipmeanttome.Iwanttothankyouhereandnow,dear,forthewarmandtrueaffectionyou'vealwaysgivenme.""Andalways,alwayswill,"sobbedDiana."IshallNEVERloveanybody...

anyGIRL. . .halfaswellasI loveyou.AndifIeverdomarryandhavealittlegirlofmyownI'mgoingtonameherANNE."

XXVIIAnAfternoonattheStoneHouse

"Whereareyougoing,alldressedup,Anne?"Davywantedtoknow."You

lookbullyinthatdress."Annehadcomedowntodinnerinanewdressofpalegreenmuslin...the

first color she had worn since Matthew's death. It became her perfectly,bringing out all the delicate, flower-like tints of her face and the gloss andburnishofherhair."Davy,howmanytimeshaveItoldyouthatyoumustn'tusethatword,"she

rebuked."I'mgoingtoEchoLodge.""Takemewithyou,"entreatedDavy."Iwould if Iweredriving.But I'mgoing towalkand it's too far foryour

eight-year-oldlegs.Besides,PaulisgoingwithmeandIfearyoudon'tenjoyyourselfinhiscompany.""Oh, I like Paul lots better'n I did," saidDavy, beginning tomake fearful

inroadsintohispudding."SinceI'vegotprettygoodmyselfIdon'tmindhisbeinggoodersomuch.IfIcankeeponI'llcatchupwithhimsomeday,bothin legs and goodness. 'Sides, Paul's real nice to us second primer boys inschool.Hewon'tlettheotherbigboysmeddlewithusandheshowsuslotsofgames.""HowcamePaultofallintothebrookatnoonhouryesterday?"askedAnne.

"Imethimontheplayground,suchadrippingfigurethatIsenthimpromptlyhomeforclotheswithoutwaitingtofindoutwhathadhappened.""Well,itwaspartlyazacksident,"explainedDavy."Hestuckhisheadinon

purpose but the rest of him fell in zacksidentally.We was all down at thebrookandPrillieRogersongotmadatPaulaboutsomething. . .she'sawfulmeanandhorridanyway,ifsheISpretty...andsaidthathisgrandmotherputhishairupincurlragseverynight.Paulwouldn'thavemindedwhatshesaid,Iguess,butGracieAndrewslaughed,andPaulgotawfulred,'causeGracie'shisgirl,youknow.He'sCLEANGONEonher...bringsherflowersandcarriesher books as far as the shore road. He got as red as a beet and said hisgrandmotherdidn'tdoanysuchthingandhishairwasborncurly.Andthenhelaiddownonthebankandstuckhisheadrightintothespringtoshowthem.Oh, it wasn't the spring we drink out of . . ." seeing a horrified look onMarilla'sface..."itwasthelittleonelowerdown.Butthebank'sawfulslippyandPaulwentrightin.I tellyouhemadeabullysplash.Oh,Anne,Anne,Ididn'tmean to say that . . . it just slipped out before I thought.Hemade aSPLENDIDsplash.Buthelookedsofunnywhenhecrawledout,allwetandmuddy. The girls laughedmore'n ever, but Gracie didn't laugh. She lookedsorry.Gracie'sanicegirlbutshe'sgotasnubnose.WhenIgetbigenoughtohaveagirl Iwon'thaveonewithasnubnose . . . I'llpickonewithaprettynoselikeyours,Anne.""Aboywhomakessuchamessofsyrupalloverhisfacewhenheiseating

hispuddingwillnevergetagirltolookathim,"saidMarillaseverely.

"But I'll wash my face before I go courting," protested Davy, trying toimprovematters by rubbing the backof his handover the smears. "And I'llwashbehindmyears too,withoutbeingtold.I rememberedtothismorning,Marilla. I don't forgethalf asoften as I did.But . . ." andDavy sighed . . ."there'ssomanycornersaboutafellowthatit'sawfulhardtorememberthemall.Well, if Ican'tgo toMissLavendar's I'llgooverandseeMrs.Harrison.Mrs.Harrison'sanawfulnicewoman,Itellyou.Shekeepsajarofcookiesinherpantrya-purposeforlittleboys,andshealwaysgivesmethescrapingsoutofapanshe'smixedupaplumcakein.Agoodmanyplumssticktothesides,yousee.Mr.Harrisonwasalwaysaniceman,buthe'stwiceasnicesincehegotmarriedoveragain.Iguessgettingmarriedmakesfolksnicer.Whydon'tYOUgetmarried,Marilla?Iwanttoknow."Marilla'sstateofsingleblessednesshadneverbeenasorepointwithher,so

sheansweredamiably,withanexchangeofsignificantlookswithAnne,thatshesupposeditwasbecausenobodywouldhaveher."Butmaybeyouneveraskedanybodytohaveyou,"protestedDavy."Oh,Davy,"saidDoraprimly,shockedintospeakingwithoutbeingspoken

to,"it'stheMENthathavetodotheasking.""Idon'tknowwhytheyhavetodoitALWAYS,"grumbledDavy."Seemsto

meeverything'sputonthemeninthisworld.CanIhavesomemorepudding,Marilla?""You'vehadasmuchaswasgoodforyou,"saidMarilla;butshegavehima

moderatesecondhelping."Iwish people could live on pudding.Why can't they,Marilla? Iwant to

know.""Becausethey'dsoongettiredofit.""I'dliketotrythatformyself,"saidskepticalDavy."ButIguessit'sbetterto

have pudding only on fish and company days than none at all. They neverhaveanyatMiltyBoulter's.Miltysayswhencompanycomeshismothergivesthem cheese and cuts it herself . . . one little bit apiece and one over formanners.""IfMiltyBoultertalkslikethatabouthismotheratleastyouneedn'trepeat

it,"saidMarillaseverely."Blessmysoul,"...DavyhadpickedthisexpressionupfromMr.Harrison

anduseditwithgreatgusto..."Miltymeantitasacompelment.He'sawfulproudofhismother,causefolkssayshecouldscratchalivingonarock.""I...Isupposethempeskyhensareinmypansybedagain,"saidMarilla,

risingandgoingouthurriedly.The slanderedhenswerenowherenear thepansybed andMarilla didnot

evenglanceat it.Instead,shesatdownonthecellarhatchandlaugheduntil

shewasashamedofherself.When Anne and Paul reached the stone house that afternoon they found

Miss Lavendar and Charlotta the Fourth in the garden, weeding, raking,clipping,andtrimmingasiffordearlife.MissLavendarherself,allgayandsweetinthefrillsandlacessheloved,droppedhershearsandranjoyouslytomeetherguests,whileCharlottatheFourthgrinnedcheerfully."Welcome,Anne.Ithoughtyou'dcometoday.Youbelongtotheafternoon

soitbroughtyou.Thingsthatbelongtogetheraresuretocometogether.Whata lot of trouble thatwould save somepeople if theyonlyknew it.But theydon't...andsotheywastebeautifulenergymovingheavenandearthtobringthings together thatDON'T belong.And you, Paul . . .why, you've grown!You'rehalfaheadtallerthanwhenyouwereherebefore.""Yes,I'vebeguntogrowlikepigweedinthenight,asMrs.Lyndesays,"said

Paul, in frank delight over the fact. "Grandma says it's the porridge takingeffectatlast.Perhapsitis.Goodnessknows..."Paulsigheddeeply..."I'veeatenenoughtomakeanyonegrow.Idohope,nowthatI'vebegun,I'llkeepontillI'mastallasfather.Heissixfeet,youknow,MissLavendar."Yes,Miss Lavendar did know; the flush on her pretty cheeks deepened a

little;shetookPaul'shandononesideandAnne'sontheotherandwalkedtothehouseinsilence."Is it a goodday for the echoes,MissLavendar?"queriedPaul anxiously.

The day of his first visit had been toowindy for echoes andPaul had beenmuchdisappointed."Yes,justthebestkindofaday,"answeredMissLavendar,rousingherself

fromherreverie."Butfirstweareallgoingtohavesomethingtoeat.Iknowyou two folks didn'twalk all theway back here through those beechwoodswithoutgettinghungry,andCharlottatheFourthandIcaneatanyhouroftheday . . . we have such obliging appetites. So we'll just make a raid on thepantry.Fortunatelyit'slovelyandfull.IhadapresentimentthatIwasgoingtohavecompanytodayandCharlottatheFourthandIprepared.""I think you are one of the people who always have nice things in their

pantry," declaredPaul. "Grandma's like that too.But she doesn't approve ofsnacksbetweenmeals.Iwonder,"headdedmeditatively,"ifIOUGHTtoeatthemawayfromhomewhenIknowshedoesn'tapprove.""Oh, I don't think shewould disapprove after you have had a longwalk.

That makes a difference," saidMiss Lavendar, exchanging amused glanceswith Anne over Paul's brown curls. "I suppose that snacks ARE extremelyunwholesome. That is why we have them so often at Echo Lodge.We. . .CharlottatheFourthandI...liveindefianceofeveryknownlawofdiet.Weeatallsortsofindigestiblethingswheneverwehappentothinkofit,bydayornight;andweflourishlikegreenbaytrees.Wearealwaysintendingtoreform.

Whenwereadanyarticleinapaperwarningusagainstsomethingwelikewecutitoutandpinituponthekitchenwallsothatwe'llrememberit.Butwenever can somehow . . . until after we've gone and eaten that very thing.Nothing has ever killed us yet; butCharlotta the Fourth has been known tohavebaddreamsafterwehadeatendoughnutsandmincepieandfruitcakebeforewewenttobed.""Grandmaletsmehaveaglassofmilkandasliceofbreadandbutterbefore

Igotobed;andonSundaynightssheputsjamonthebread,"saidPaul."SoI'malwaysgladwhenit'sSundaynight...formorereasonsthanone.Sundayisaverylongdayontheshoreroad.Grandmasaysit'salltooshortforherandthatfatherneverfoundSundaystiresomewhenhewasalittleboy.Itwouldn'tseem so long if I could talk tomy rock people but I never do that becauseGrandmadoesn'tapproveofitonSundays.Ithinkagooddeal;butI'mafraidmy thoughtsareworldly.Grandmasayswe shouldnever thinkanythingbutreligious thoughts on Sundays. But teacher here said once that every reallybeautifulthoughtwasreligious,nomatterwhatitwasabout,orwhatdaywethoughtiton.ButIfeelsureGrandmathinksthatsermonsandSundaySchoollessonsaretheonlythingsyoucanthinktrulyreligiousthoughtsabout.AndwhenitcomestoadifferenceofopinionbetweenGrandmaandteacherIdon'tknowwhattodo.Inmyheart"...PaullaidhishandonhisbreastandraisedveryseriousblueeyestoMissLavendar'simmediatelysympatheticface..."Iagreewith teacher.But then, you see,Grandmahas brought father upHERway and made a brilliant success of him; and teacher has never broughtanybodyupyet,thoughshe'shelpingwithDavyandDora.Butyoucan'ttellhowthey'llturnouttilltheyAREgrownup.SosometimesIfeelasifitmightbesafertogobyGrandma'sopinions.""I think itwould,"agreedAnnesolemnly. "Anyway, Idaresay that ifyour

GrandmaandIbothgotdowntowhatwereallydomean,underourdifferentways of expressing it, we'd find out we both meant much the same thing.You'd better go by her way of expressing it, since it's been the result ofexperience.We'llhavetowaituntilweseehowthetwinsdoturnoutbeforewecanbesurethatmywayisequallygood."Afterlunchtheywentbacktothe garden,wherePaulmade the acquaintance of the echoes, to hiswonderanddelight,whileAnneandMissLavendarsatonthestonebenchunderthepoplarandtalked."Soyouaregoingawayinthefall?"saidMissLavendarwistfully."Iought

tobegladforyoursake,Anne...butI'mhorribly,selfishlysorry.Ishallmissyousomuch.Oh,sometimes,Ithinkitisofnousetomakefriends.Theyonlygo out of your life after awhile and leave a hurt that is worse than theemptinessbeforetheycame.""ThatsoundslikesomethingMissElizaAndrewsmightsaybutneverMiss

Lavendar," saidAnne. "NOTHINGisworse thanemptiness . . . and I'mnot

goingoutofyourlife.Therearesuchthingsaslettersandvacations.Dearest,I'mafraidyou'relookingalittlepaleandtired.""Oh.. .hoo.. .hoo.. .hoo,"wentPaulonthedyke,wherehehadbeen

makingnoisesdiligently...notallofthemmelodiousinthemaking,butallcomingback transmuted into the verygold and silver of soundby the fairyalchemistsover the river.MissLavendarmadean impatientmovementwithherprettyhands."I'mjusttiredofeverything...evenoftheechoes.Thereisnothinginmy

lifebutechoes...echoesoflosthopesanddreamsandjoys.They'rebeautifuland mocking. Oh Anne, it's horrid of me to talk like this when I havecompany.It'sjustthatI'mgettingoldanditdoesn'tagreewithme.IknowI'llbefearfullycrankybythetimeI'msixty.ButperhapsallIneedisacourseofblue pills."At thismomentCharlotta theFourth,whohaddisappeared afterlunch,returned,andannouncedthatthenortheastcornerofMr.JohnKimball'spasturewasredwithearlystrawberries,andwouldn'tMissShirleyliketogoandpicksome."Earlystrawberriesfortea!"exclaimedMissLavendar."Oh,I'mnotsoold

asIthought...andIdon'tneedasinglebluepill!Girls,whenyoucomebackwithyourstrawberrieswe'llhaveteaouthereunderthesilverpoplar.I'llhaveitallreadyforyouwithhome-growncream."AnneandCharlotta theFourthaccordinglybetook themselvesback toMr.

Kimball'spasture,agreenremoteplacewheretheairwasassoftasvelvetandfragrantasabedofvioletsandgoldenasamber."Oh, isn't it sweetandfreshbackhere?"breathedAnne."I just feelas if I

weredrinkinginthesunshine.""Yes, ma'am, so do I. That's just exactly how I feel too, ma'am," agreed

Charlotta theFourth,whowouldhavesaidprecisely thesame thing ifAnnehadremarkedthatshefeltlikeapelicanofthewilderness.AlwaysafterAnnehadvisitedEchoLodgeCharlottatheFourthmountedtoherlittleroomoverthekitchenandtriedbeforeherlookingglasstospeakandlookandmovelikeAnne. Charlotta could never flatter herself that she quite succeeded; butpractice makes perfect, as Charlotta had learned at school, and she fondlyhopedthatintimeshemightcatchthetrickofthatdaintyupliftofchin,thatquick, starry outflashing of eyes, that fashion of walking as if you were abough swaying in the wind. It seemed so easy when you watched Anne.CharlottatheFourthadmiredAnnewholeheartedly.Itwasnotthatshethoughthersoveryhandsome.DianaBarry'sbeautyofcrimsoncheekandblackcurlswasmuchmoretoCharlottatheFourth'stastethanAnne'smoonshinecharmofluminousgrayeyesandthepale,everchangingrosesofhercheeks."ButI'dratherlooklikeyouthanbepretty,"shetoldAnnesincerely.Anne laughed, sipped thehoney from the tribute, andcast away the sting.

Shewasusedtotakinghercomplimentsmixed.PublicopinionneveragreedonAnne'slooks.Peoplewhohadheardhercalledhandsomemetherandweredisappointed. Peoplewho had heard her called plain saw her andwonderedwhereotherpeople'seyeswere.Anneherselfwouldneverbelievethatshehadanyclaimtobeauty.Whenshelookedintheglassallshesawwasalittlepalefacewithsevenfrecklesonthenosethereof.Hermirrorneverrevealedtohertheelusive,ever-varyingplayoffeelingthatcameandwentoverherfeatureslikearosyilluminatingflame,orthecharmofdreamandlaughteralternatinginherbigeyes.WhileAnnewasnotbeautifulinanystrictlydefinedsenseofthewordshe

possessed a certain evasive charm and distinction of appearance that leftbeholders with a pleasurable sense of satisfaction in that softly roundedgirlhoodofhers,withallitsstronglyfeltpotentialities.ThosewhoknewAnnebestfelt,withoutrealizingthattheyfeltit,thathergreatestattractionwastheauraofpossibility surroundingher. . . thepowerof futuredevelopment thatwasinher.Sheseemedtowalkinanatmosphereofthingsabouttohappen.As theypicked,Charlotta theFourthconfided toAnneher fears regarding

Miss Lavendar. The warm-hearted little handmaiden was honestly worriedoverheradoredmistress'condition."MissLavendar isn'twell,Miss Shirley,ma'am. I'm sure she isn't, though

shenevercomplains.Shehasn'tseemedlikeherselfthislongwhile,ma'am...not since that day you and Paul were here together before. I feel sure shecaughtcoldthatnight,ma'am.Afteryouandhimhadgoneshewentoutandwalkedinthegardenforlongafterdarkwithnothingbutalittleshawlonher.Therewasa lotofsnowonthewalksandIfeelsureshegotachill,ma'am.EversincethenI'venoticedheractingtiredandlonesomelike.Shedon'tseemtotakeaninterestinanything,ma'am.Sheneverpretendscompany'scoming,norfixesupforit,nornothing,ma'am.It'sonlywhenyoucomesheseemstochirkupabit.Andtheworstsignofall,MissShirley,ma'am. . ."Charlottathe Fourth lowered her voice as if shewere about to tell some exceedinglyweirdandawfulsymptomindeed..."isthatshenevergetscrossnowwhenIbreaksthings.Why,MissShirley,ma'am,yesterdayIbrukhergreenandyallerbowl that's always stood on the bookcase. Her grandmother brought it outfromEnglandandMissLavendarwasawfulchoiceofit.Iwasdustingitjustas careful,MissShirley,ma'am,and it slippedout, so fashion, afore I couldgrabholtofit,andbrukintoaboutfortymillyunpieces.ItellyouIwassorryand scared. I thoughtMissLavendarwould scoldme awful,ma'am; and I'druthershehadthantakeitthewayshedid.Shejustcomeinandhardlylookedat it and said, 'It's nomatter, Charlotta. Take up the pieces and throw themaway.' Just like that,MissShirley,ma'am . . . 'takeup thepieces and throwthemaway,'asifitwasn'thergrandmother'sbowlfromEngland.Oh,sheisn'twellandIfeelawfulbadaboutit.She'sgotnobodytolookafterherbutme."

Charlotta the Fourth's eyes brimmed up with tears. Anne patted the littlebrownpawholdingthecrackedpinkcupsympathetically."IthinkMissLavendarneedsachange,Charlotta.Shestaysherealonetoo

much.Can'tweinducehertogoawayforalittletrip?"Charlottashookherhead,withitsrampantbows,disconsolately."Idon't thinkso,MissShirley,ma'am.MissLavendarhatesvisiting.She's

onlygotthreerelationssheevervisitsandshesaysshejustgoestoseethemasafamilyduty.Lasttimewhenshecomehomeshesaidshewasn'tgoingtovisit for family duty no more. 'I've come home in love with loneliness,Charlotta,'shesaystome,'andIneverwanttostrayfrommyownvineandfigtreeagain.Myrelationstrysohardtomakeanoldladyofmeandithasabadeffectonme.'Justlikethat,MissShirley,ma'am. 'Ithasaverybadeffectonme.'SoIdon'tthinkitwoulddoanygoodtocoaxhertogovisiting.""Wemust seewhatcanbedone," saidAnnedecidedly, as sheput the last

possibleberryinherpinkcup."JustassoonasIhavemyvacationI'llcomethroughandspendawholeweekwithyou.We'llhaveapicniceverydayandpretendallsortsofinterestingthings,andseeifwecan'tcheerMissLavendarup.""Thatwillbetheverything,MissShirley,ma'am,"exclaimedCharlottathe

Fourthinrapture.ShewasgladforMissLavendar'ssakeandforherowntoo.With awholeweek inwhich to studyAnne constantly shewould surely beabletolearnhowtomoveandbehavelikeher.WhenthegirlsgotbacktoEchoLodgetheyfoundthatMissLavendarand

Paulhadcarriedthelittlesquaretableoutofthekitchentothegardenandhadeverythingreadyfortea.Nothingevertastedsodeliciousasthosestrawberriesandcream,eatenunderagreatblueskyallcurdledoverwithfluffylittlewhiteclouds, and in the long shadows of the wood with its lispings and itsmurmurings.AfterteaAnnehelpedCharlottawashthedishesinthekitchen,whileMissLavendarsatonthestonebenchwithPaulandheardallabouthisrockpeople.Shewasagoodlistener,thissweetMissLavendar,butjustatthelastitstruckPaulthatshehadsuddenlylostinterestintheTwinSailors."MissLavendar,whydoyoulookatmelikethat?"heaskedgravely."HowdoIlook,Paul?""JustasifyouwerelookingthroughmeatsomebodyIputyouinmindof,"

saidPaul,whohad suchoccasional flashesofuncanny insight that itwasn'tquitesafetohavesecretswhenhewasabout."YoudoputmeinmindofsomebodyIknewlongago,"saidMissLavendar

dreamily."Whenyouwereyoung?""Yes,whenIwasyoung.DoIseemveryoldtoyou,Paul?"

"Do you know, I can't make up my mind about that," said Paulconfidentially. "Your hair looks old . . . I never knew a young personwithwhite hair. But your eyes are as young asmy beautiful teacher'swhen youlaugh. I tell you what, Miss Lavendar" . . . Paul's voice and face were assolemnasajudge's..."Ithinkyouwouldmakeasplendidmother.Youhavejust the right look inyour eyes . . . the lookmy littlemother alwayshad. Ithinkit'sapityyouhaven'tanyboysofyourown.""Ihavealittledreamboy,Paul.""Oh,haveyoureally?Howoldishe?""AboutyourageIthink.HeoughttobeolderbecauseIdreamedhimlong

before you were born. But I'll never let him get any older than eleven ortwelve; because if I did somedayhemightgrowupaltogether and then I'dlosehim.""Iknow,"noddedPaul."That'sthebeautyofdream-people...theystayany

ageyouwantthem.Youandmybeautifulteacherandmemyselfaretheonlyfolks in theworld that I knowof that havedream-people. Isn't it funny andniceweshouldallknoweachother?But Iguess thatkindofpeoplealwaysfindeachotherout.Grandmaneverhasdream-peopleandMaryJoethinksI'mwrongintheupperstorybecauseIhavethem.ButIthinkit'ssplendidtohavethem.YOUknow,MissLavendar.Tellmeallaboutyourlittledream-boy.""Hehasblueeyes andcurlyhair.He steals in andwakensmewithakiss

everymorning.Thenalldayheplayshereinthegarden. . .andIplaywithhim.Suchgamesaswehave.Werunracesandtalkwiththeechoes;andItellhimstories.Andwhentwilightcomes...""Iknow,"interruptedPauleagerly."Hecomesandsitsbesideyou...SO..

.becauseofcourseattwelvehe'dbetoobigtoclimbintoyourlap...andlayshisheadonyourshoulder. . .SO.. .andyouputyourarmsabouthimandholdhimtight,tight,andrestyourcheekonhishead. . .yes,that'stheveryway.Oh,youDOknow,MissLavendar."Anne found the twoof them therewhen shecameoutof the stonehouse,

andsomethinginMissLavendar'sfacemadeherhatetodisturbthem."I'm afraid wemust go, Paul, if we want to get home before dark.Miss

Lavendar,I'mgoingtoinvitemyselftoEchoLodgeforawholeweekprettysoon.""IfyoucomeforaweekI'llkeepyoufortwo,"threatenedMissLavendar.

XXVIIIThePrinceComesBacktothe

EnchantedPalace

The last day of school came and went. A triumphant "semi-annualexamination"washeldandAnne'spupilsacquittedthemselvessplendidly.Attheclosetheygaveheranaddressandawritingdesk.Allthegirlsandladiespresentcried,andsomeof theboyshad itcastup to themlateron that theycriedtoo,althoughtheyalwaysdeniedit.Mrs.HarmonAndrews,Mrs. PeterSloane, andMrs.WilliamBellwalked

hometogetherandtalkedthingsover."IdothinkitissuchapityAnneisleavingwhenthechildrenseemsomuch

attached to her," sighedMrs.PeterSloane,whohad a habit of sighingovereverythingandevenfinishedoffher jokes thatway."Tobesure,"sheaddedhastily,"weallknowwe'llhaveagoodteachernextyeartoo.""Janewilldoherduty, I'venodoubt," saidMrs.Andrews rather stiffly. "I

don't suppose she'll tell the children quite so many fairy tales or spend somuchtimeroamingaboutthewoodswiththem.ButshehashernameontheInspector'sRollofHonorandtheNewbridgepeopleareinaterriblestateoverherleaving.""I'm real gladAnne is going to college," saidMrs.Bell. "She has always

wanteditanditwillbeasplendidthingforher.""Well,Idon'tknow."Mrs.Andrewswasdeterminednottoagreefullywith

anybody that day. "I don't see that Anne needs any more education. She'llprobablybemarryingGilbertBlythe,ifhisinfatuationforherlaststillhegetsthrough college, and what good will Latin and Greek do her then? If theytaughtyouatcollegehowtomanageamantheremightbesomesenseinhergoing."Mrs. Harmon Andrews, so Avonlea gossip whispered, had never learned

how tomanage her "man," and as a result theAndrews householdwas notexactlyamodelofdomestichappiness."IseethattheCharlottetowncalltoMr.AllanisupbeforethePresbytery,"

saidMrs.Bell."Thatmeanswe'llbelosinghimsoon,Isuppose.""They'renotgoingbeforeSeptember,"saidMrs.Sloane."Itwillbeagreat

losstothecommunity.. .thoughIalwaysdidthinkthatMrs.Allandressedrather toogay for aminister'swife.Butwearenoneofusperfect.Didyounotice how neat and snug Mr. Harrison looked today? I never saw such achanged man. He goes to church every Sunday and has subscribed to thesalary.""Hasn't thatPaul Irvinggrown to be a big boy?" saidMrs.Andrews. "He

wassuchamiteforhisagewhenhecamehere.IdeclareIhardlyknewhimtoday.He'sgettingtolookalotlikehisfather.""He'sasmartboy,"saidMrs.Bell."He'ssmartenough,but"...Mrs.Andrewsloweredhervoice..."Ibelieve

hetellsqueerstories.Graciecamehomefromschoolonedaylastweekwiththe greatest rigmarole he had told her about people who lived down at theshore...storiestherecouldn'tbeawordoftruthin,youknow.ItoldGracienottobelievethem,andshesaidPauldidn'tintendherto.Butifhedidn'twhatdidhetellthemtoherfor?""AnnesaysPaulisagenius,"saidMrs.Sloane."Hemaybe.YouneverknowwhattoexpectofthemAmericans,"saidMrs.

Andrews. Mrs. Andrews' only acquaintance with the word "genius" wasderivedfromthecolloquialfashionofcallinganyeccentricindividual"aqueergenius." She probably thought, withMary Joe, that it meant a person withsomethingwronginhisupperstory.BackintheschoolroomAnnewassittingaloneatherdesk,asshehadsaton

the first day of school two years before, her face leaning on her hand, herdewyeyeslookingwistfullyoutofthewindowtotheLakeofShiningWaters.Her heartwas sowrung over the partingwith her pupils that for amomentcollege had lost all its charm.She still felt the clasp ofAnnettaBell's armsaboutherneckandheard thechildishwail,"I'llNEVERloveanyteacherasmuchasyou,MissShirley,never,never."For two years she had worked earnestly and faithfully, making many

mistakesandlearningfromthem.Shehadhadherreward.Shehadtaughtherscholars something, but she felt that they had taught her much more . . .lessons of tenderness, self-control, innocentwisdom, lore of childish hearts.Perhapsshehadnotsucceededin"inspiring"anywonderfulambitionsinherpupils,butshehadtaughtthem,morebyherownsweetpersonalitythanbyallher careful precepts, that it was good and necessary in the years that werebeforethemtolivetheirlivesfinelyandgraciously,holdingfasttotruthandcourtesyandkindness,keepingaloof fromall that savoredof falsehoodandmeanness and vulgarity. They were, perhaps, all unconscious of havinglearnedsuch lessons;but theywouldrememberandpractice themlongaftertheyhadforgottenthecapitalofAfghanistanandthedatesoftheWarsoftheRoses."Anotherchapter inmylife isclosed,"saidAnnealoud,asshe lockedher

desk. She really felt very sad over it; but the romance in the idea of that"closedchapter"didcomfortheralittle.AnnespentafortnightatEchoLodgeearly inhervacationandeverybody

concernedhadagoodtime.She tookMissLavendar on a shopping expedition to town and persuaded

her to buy a new organdy dress; then came the excitement of cutting andmakingittogether,whilethehappyCharlottatheFourthbastedandsweptupclippings.MissLavendarhadcomplainedthatshecouldnotfeelmuchinterestinanything,butthesparklecamebacktohereyesoverherprettydress.

"Whatafoolish,frivolouspersonImustbe,"shesighed."I'mwholesomelyashamedtothinkthatanewdress...evenitisaforget-me-notorgandy...shouldexhilaratemeso,whenagoodconscienceandanextracontributiontoForeignMissionscouldn'tdoit."MidwayinhervisitAnnewenthometoGreenGablesforadaytomendthe

twins' stockings and settle upDavy's accumulated store of questions. In theeveningshewentdowntotheshoreroadtoseePaulIrving.Asshepassedbythelow,squarewindowoftheIrvingsittingroomshecaughtaglimpseofPaulonsomebody'slap;butthenextmomenthecameflyingthroughthehall."Oh,MissShirley,"hecriedexcitedly,"youcan'tthinkwhathashappened!

Something so splendid.Father is here . . . just thinkof that!Father is here!Comerightin.Father,thisismybeautifulteacher.YOUknow,father."Stephen Irving came forward to meet Anne with a smile. He was a tall,

handsomeman ofmiddle age,with iron-gray hair, deep-set, dark blue eyes,andastrong,sadface,splendidlymodeledaboutchinandbrow.Justthefaceforaheroofromance,Annethoughtwithathrillofintensesatisfaction.Itwassodisappointingtomeetsomeonewhooughttobeaheroandfindhimbaldorstooped, or otherwise lacking inmanly beauty.Annewould have thought itdreadfuliftheobjectofMissLavendar'sromancehadnotlookedthepart."Sothisismylittleson's'beautifulteacher,'ofwhomIhaveheardsomuch,"

saidMr. Irvingwith aheartyhandshake. "Paul's letters havebeen so full ofyou, Miss Shirley, that I feel as if I were pretty well acquainted with youalready.IwanttothankyouforwhatyouhavedoneforPaul.Ithinkthatyourinfluencehasbeenjustwhatheneeded.Motherisoneofthebestanddearestof women; but her robust, matter-of-fact Scotch common sense could notalwaysunderstanda temperament likemy laddie's.Whatwas lacking inheryouhavesupplied.Betweenyou,IthinkPaul'straininginthesetwopastyearshasbeenasnearlyidealasamotherlessboy'scouldbe."Everybody likes to be appreciated. UnderMr. Irving's praise Anne's face

"burst flower like into rosy bloom," and the busy,wearyman of theworld,lookingather,thoughthehadneverseenafairer,sweeterslipofgirlhoodthanthislittle"downeast"schoolteacherwithherredhairandwonderfuleyes.Paulsatbetweenthemblissfullyhappy."I never dreamed father was coming," he said radiantly. "Even Grandma

didn'tknowit.Itwasagreatsurprise.Asageneralthing..."Paulshookhisbrowncurlsgravely . . ."Idon't like tobesurprised.Youloseall thefunofexpecting thingswhenyou're surprised.But inacase like this it isall right.FathercamelastnightafterIhadgonetobed.AndafterGrandmaandMaryJoehadstoppedbeingsurprisedheandGrandmacameupstairstolookatme,notmeaningtowakemeuptillmorning.ButIwokerightupandsawfather.ItellyouIjustsprangathim."

"With ahug like abear's," saidMr. Irving,puttinghis armsaroundPaul'sshoulder smilingly. "Ihardlyknewmyboy,hehadgrownsobigandbrownandsturdy.""I don't know which was the most pleased to see father, Grandma or I,"

continuedPaul."Grandma'sbeen inkitchenalldaymaking the thingsfatherlikestoeat.Shewouldn'ttrustthemtoMaryJoe,shesays.That'sHERwayofshowinggladness. I like best just to sit and talk to father. But I'm going toleaveyoufora littlewhilenowifyou'llexcuseme. Imustget thecowsforMaryJoe.Thatisoneofmydailyduties."WhenPaulhadscamperedawaytodohis"dailyduty"Mr.Irvingtalkedto

Anneofvariousmatters.ButAnnefeltthathewasthinkingofsomethingelseunderneathallthetime.Presentlyitcametothesurface."InPaul'slastletterhespokeofgoingwithyoutovisitanold...friendof

mine...MissLewisatthestonehouseinGrafton.Doyouknowherwell?""Yes, indeed,sheisaverydearfriendofmine,"wasAnne'sdemurereply,

whichgavenohintofthesuddenthrillthattingledoverherfromheadtofootatMr.Irving'squestion.Anne"feltinstinctively"thatromancewaspeepingatheraroundacorner.Mr. Irving rose and went to the window, looking out on a great, golden,

billowingseawhereawildwindwasharping.Forafewmomentstherewassilence in the littledark-walled room.Thenhe turnedand lookeddown intoAnne'ssympatheticfacewithasmile,half-whimsical,half-tender."Iwonderhowmuchyouknow,"hesaid."I know all about it," replied Anne promptly. "You see," she explained

hastily, "Miss Lavendar and I are very intimate. Shewouldn't tell things ofsuchasacrednaturetoeverybody.Wearekindredspirits.""Yes,Ibelieveyouare.Well,Iamgoingtoaskafavorofyou.Iwouldlike

to go and seeMiss Lavendar if shewill letme.Will you ask her if Imaycome?"Wouldshenot?Oh,indeedshewould!Yes,thiswasromance,thevery,the

real thing,with all the charmof rhyme and story and dream. Itwas a littlebelated,perhaps,likearosebloominginOctoberwhichshouldhavebloomedinJune;butnonethelessarose,allsweetnessandfragrance,withthegleamofgold in itsheart.NeverdidAnne'sfeetbearheronamorewillingerrandthanon thatwalk throughthebeechwoods toGrafton thenextmorning.ShefoundMiss Lavendar in the garden.Annewas fearfully excited. Her handsgrewcoldandhervoicetrembled."MissLavendar,Ihavesomethingtotellyou...somethingveryimportant.

Canyouguesswhatitis?"Anne never supposed that Miss Lavendar could GUESS; but Miss

Lavendar'sfacegrewverypaleandMissLavendarsaidinaquiet,stillvoice,

from which all the color and sparkle that Miss Lavendar's voice usuallysuggestedhadfaded."StephenIrvingishome?""Howdidyouknow?Whotoldyou?"criedAnnedisappointedly,vexedthat

hergreatrevelationhadbeenanticipated."Nobody.Iknewthatmustbeit,justfromthewayyouspoke.""Hewantstocomeandseeyou,"saidAnne."MayIsendhimwordthathe

may?""Yes, of course," fluttered Miss Lavendar. "There is no reason why he

shouldn't.Heisonlycomingasanyoldfriendmight."Annehadherownopinionaboutthatasshehastenedintothehousetowrite

anoteatMissLavendar'sdesk."Oh, it's delightful tobe living in a storybook," she thoughtgaily. "Itwill

comeoutallrightofcourse...itmust...andPaulwillhaveamotherafterhis own heart and everybody will be happy. ButMr. Irving will takeMissLavendaraway...anddearknowswhatwillhappentothelittlestonehouse.. .andso thereare twosides to it,as thereseemstobe toeverythingin thisworld." The important note was written and Anne herself carried it to theGraftonpostoffice,whereshewaylaidthemailcarrierandaskedhimtoleaveitattheAvonleaoffice."It'ssoveryimportant,"Anneassuredhimanxiously.Themailcarrierwasa

rathergrumpyoldpersonagewhodidnotatalllookthepartofamessengerofCupid;andAnnewasnonetoocertainthathismemorywastobetrusted.Buthesaidhewoulddohisbest to rememberandshehad tobecontentedwiththat.Charlotta theFourth felt that somemystery pervaded the stone house that

afternoon...amysteryfromwhichshewasexcluded.MissLavendarroamedabout the garden in a distracted fashion.Anne, too, seemed possessed by ademonofunrest,andwalkedtoandfroandwentupanddown.CharlottatheFourthenduredittillpatienceceasedtobeavirtue;thensheconfrontedAnneon the occasion of that romantic young person's third aimless peregrinationthroughthekitchen."Please,MissShirley,ma'am,"saidCharlottatheFourth,withanindignant

tossofherverybluebows,"it'splaintobeseenyouandMissLavendarhavegotasecretandIthink,beggingyourpardonifI'mtooforward,MissShirley,ma'am,thatit'srealmeannottotellmewhenwe'veallbeensuchchums.""Oh,Charlottadear,I'dhavetoldyouallaboutitifitweremysecret...but

it's Miss Lavendar's, you see. However, I'll tell you this much . . . and ifnothingcomesof ityoumustneverbreatheawordabout it toa livingsoul.You see, Prince Charming is coming tonight. He came long ago, but in afoolish moment went away and wandered afar and forgot the secret of the

magicpathway to theenchantedcastle,where theprincesswasweepingherfaithfulheartoutforhim.Butatlastheremembereditagainandtheprincessiswaiting still. . . because nobody but her own dear prince could carry heroff.""Oh, Miss Shirley, ma'am, what is that in prose?" gasped the mystified

Charlotta.Annelaughed."Inprose,anoldfriendofMissLavendar'siscomingtoseehertonight.""Doyoumeananoldbeauofhers?"demandedtheliteralCharlotta."ThatisprobablywhatIdomean...inprose,"answeredAnnegravely."It

isPaul'sfather...StephenIrving.Andgoodnessknowswhatwillcomeofit,butletushopeforthebest,Charlotta.""I hope that he'll marry Miss Lavendar," was Charlotta's unequivocal

response. "Somewomen's intended from the start to be oldmaids, and I'mafraidI'moneofthem,MissShirley,ma'am,becauseI'veawfullittlepatiencewith themen.ButMiss Lavendar neverwas.And I've been awfulworried,thinkingwhatonearthshe'ddowhenIgotsobigI'dHAVEtogotoBoston.Thereain'tanymoregirlsinourfamilyanddearknowswhatshe'ddoifshegotsomestranger thatmight laughatherpretendingsand leave things lyingroundoutoftheirplaceandnotbewillingtobecalledCharlottatheFifth.Shemightgetsomeonewhowouldn'tbeasunluckyasmeinbreakingdishesbutshe'dnevergetanyonewho'dloveherbetter."Andthefaithfullittlehandmaidendashedtotheovendoorwithasniff.TheywentthroughtheformofhavingteaasusualthatnightatEchoLodge;

butnobodyreallyateanything.AfterteaMissLavendarwenttoherroomandputonhernewforget-me-notorgandy,whileAnnedidherhairforher.Bothwere dreadfully excited; butMiss Lavendar pretended to be very calm andindifferent."Imust reallymend that rent in thecurtain tomorrow,"shesaidanxiously,

inspecting itas if itwere theonly thingofany importance just then."Thosecurtains have notworn aswell as they should, considering the price I paid.Dear me, Charlotta has forgotten to dust the stair railing AGAIN. I reallyMUSTspeaktoheraboutit."Annewas sitting on the porch stepswhen Stephen Irving came down the

laneandacrossthegarden."Thisistheoneplacewheretimestandsstill,"hesaid,lookingaroundhim

with delighted eyes. "There is nothing changed about this house or gardensinceIwasheretwenty-fiveyearsago.Itmakesmefeelyoungagain.""Youknowtimealwaysdoesstandstillinanenchantedpalace,"saidAnne

seriously."Itisonlywhentheprincecomesthatthingsbegintohappen."

Mr.Irvingsmiledalittlesadlyintoherupliftedface,allastarwithitsyouthandpromise."Sometimes the prince comes too late," he said. He did not ask Anne to

translateherremarkintoprose.Likeallkindredspiritshe"understood.""Oh,no,notifheistherealprincecomingtothetrueprincess,"saidAnne,

shakingherredheaddecidedly,assheopenedtheparlordoor.Whenhehadgone in she shut it tightly behind him and turned to confront Charlotta theFourth,whowasinthehall,all"nodsandbecksandwreathedsmiles.""Oh, Miss Shirley, ma'am," she breathed, "I peeked from the kitchen

window . . . and he's awful handsome . . . and just the right age forMissLavendar.Andoh,MissShirley,ma'am,doyouthinkitwouldbemuchharmtolistenatthedoor?""Itwouldbedreadful,Charlotta,"saidAnnefirmly,"sojustyoucomeaway

withmeoutofthereachoftemptation.""I can't do anything, and it's awful to hang round just waiting," sighed

Charlotta."What ifhedon'tproposeafterall,MissShirley,ma'am?Youcanneverbe sureof themmen.Myolder sister,Charlotta theFirst, thought shewasengagedtooneonce.ButitturnedoutHEhadadifferentopinionandshesaysshe'llnevertrustoneofthemagain.AndIheardofanothercasewhereaman thought hewanted one girl awful badwhen itwas really her sister hewanted all the time.When a man don't know his ownmind,Miss Shirley,ma'am,how'sapoorwomangoingtobesureofit?""We'llgo to thekitchenandclean the silver spoons," saidAnne. "That's a

taskwhichwon'trequiremuchthinkingfortunately...forICOULDN'Tthinktonight.Anditwillpassthetime."Itpassedanhour.Then,justasAnnelaiddownthelastshiningspoon,they

heardthefrontdoorshut.Bothsoughtcomfortfearfullyineachother'seyes."Oh,MissShirley,ma'am,"gaspedCharlotta,"ifhe'sgoingawaythisearly

there'snothingintoitandneverwillbe."Theyflewtothewindow.Mr.Irvinghadnointentionofgoingaway.HeandMissLavendarwerestrollingslowlydownthemiddlepathtothestonebench."Oh,Miss Shirley, ma'am, he's got his arm around her waist," whispered

CharlottatheFourthdelightedly."Hemusthaveproposedtoherorshe'dneverallowit."AnnecaughtCharlotta theFourthbyherownplumpwaistanddancedher

aroundthekitchenuntiltheywerebothoutofbreath."Oh,Charlotta,"shecriedgaily,"I'mneitheraprophetessnor thedaughter

ofaprophetessbutI'mgoingtomakeaprediction.There'llbeaweddinginthis old stone house before the maple leaves are red. Do you want thattranslatedintoprose,Charlotta?"

"No, I canunderstand that," saidCharlotta. "Aweddingain'tpoetry.Why,MissShirley,ma'am,you'recrying!Whatfor?""Oh,becauseit'sallsobeautiful...andstorybookish...andromantic...

andsad,"saidAnne,winkingthetearsoutofhereyes."It'sallperfectlylovely...butthere'salittlesadnessmixedupinittoo,somehow.""Oh,ofcoursethere'sareskinmarryinganybody,"concededCharlottathe

Fourth, "but,when all's said and done,Miss Shirley,ma'am, there'smany aworsethingthanahusband."

XXIXPoetryandProse

ForthenextmonthAnnelivedinwhat,forAvonlea,mightbecalledawhirlofexcitement.ThepreparationofherownmodestoutfitforRedmondwasofsecondaryimportance.MissLavendarwasgettingreadytobemarriedandthestone house was the scene of endless consultations and plannings anddiscussions,withCharlotta theFourthhoveringon theoutskirts of things inagitated delight and wonder. Then the dressmaker came, and there was therapture and wretchedness of choosing fashions and being fitted. Anne andDianaspenthalf their timeatEchoLodgeandtherewerenightswhenAnnecould not sleep forwonderingwhether she had done right in advisingMissLavendartoselectbrownratherthannavyblueforhertravelingdress,andtohavehergraysilkmadeprincess.EverybodyconcernedinMissLavendar'sstorywasveryhappy.PaulIrving

rushedtoGreenGablestotalkthenewsoverwithAnneassoonashisfatherhadtoldhim."IknewIcouldtrustfather topickmeoutanicelittlesecondmother,"he

saidproudly."It'safine thingtohaveafatheryoucandependon, teacher. Ijust loveMiss Lavendar. Grandma is pleased, too. She says she's real gladfather didn't pick out anAmerican for his secondwife, because, although itturned out all right the first time, such a thingwouldn't be likely to happentwice.Mrs.Lynde says she thoroughlyapprovesof thematchand thinks itslikelyMissLavendarwillgiveupherqueernotionsandbelikeotherpeople,now that she's going to be married. But I hope she won't give her queernotionsup,teacher,becauseIlikethem.AndIdon'twanthertobelikeotherpeople.Therearetoomanyotherpeoplearoundasitis.YOUknow,teacher."CharlottatheFourthwasanotherradiantperson."Oh,MissShirley,ma'am,ithasallturnedoutsobeautiful.WhenMr.Irving

andMissLavendar comeback from their tower I'm togoup toBoston and

livewiththem...andmeonlyfifteen,andtheothergirlsneverwenttilltheywere sixteen. Ain't Mr. Irving splendid? He just worships the ground shetreadsonanditmakesmefeelsoqueersometimestoseethelookinhiseyeswhenhe'swatchingher.Itbeggarsdescription,MissShirley,ma'am.I'mawfulthankful they're so fondof each other. It's the bestway,when all's said anddone, though some folks can get alongwithout it. I've got an auntwho hasbeenmarriedthreetimesandsaysshemarriedthefirsttimeforloveandthelasttwotimesforstrictlybusiness,andwashappywithallthreeexceptatthetimesofthefunerals.ButIthinkshetookaresk,MissShirley,ma'am.""Oh, it's all so romantic,"breathedAnne toMarilla thatnight. "If Ihadn't

takenthewrongpaththatdaywewenttoMr.Kimball'sI'dneverhaveknownMissLavendar;andifIhadn'tmetherI'dneverhavetakenPaulthere...andhe'dneverhavewrittentohisfatheraboutvisitingMissLavendarjustasMr.Irvingwas starting for SanFrancisco.Mr. Irving sayswhenever he got thatletterhemadeuphismindtosendhispartnertoSanFranciscoandcomehereinstead. He hadn't heard anything of Miss Lavendar for fifteen years.Somebodyhad toldhim then that shewas tobemarriedandhe thought shewas and never asked anybody anything about her.And now everything hascome right.And I had a hand in bringing it about. Perhaps, asMrs. Lyndesays,everythingisforeordainedanditwasboundtohappenanyway.Butevenso,it'snicetothinkonewasaninstrumentusedbypredestination.Yesindeed,it'sveryromantic.""I can't see that it's so terribly romantic at all," saidMarilla rather crisply.

Marilla thoughtAnnewas tooworkedupabout itandhadplenty todowithgetting ready forcollegewithout "traipsing" toEchoLodge twodaysoutofthreehelpingMissLavendar."In thefirstplace twoyoungfoolsquarrelandturnsulky;thenSteveIrvinggoestotheStatesandafteraspellgetsmarriedupthereandisperfectlyhappyfromallaccounts.Thenhiswifediesandafteradecent intervalhe thinkshe'll comehomeandsee ifhis first fancy'llhavehim. Meanwhile, she's been living single, probably because nobody niceenoughcamealongtowanther,andtheymeetandagreetobemarriedafterall.Now,whereistheromanceinallthat?""Oh, there isn't any,when you put it thatway," gaspedAnne, rather as if

somebodyhad throwncoldwateroverher. "I suppose that'show it looks inprose.Butit'sverydifferentifyoulookatitthroughpoetry...andIthinkit'snicer..."Annerecoveredherselfandhereyesshoneandhercheeksflushed..."tolookatitthroughpoetry."Marilla glanced at the radiant young face and refrained from further

sarcasticcomments.Perhapssomerealizationcametoherthatafterallitwasbetter to have, like Anne, "the vision and the faculty divine" . . . that giftwhichtheworldcannotbestowortakeaway,oflookingatlifethroughsometransfiguring . . . or revealing? . . . medium, whereby everything seemed

apparelled in celestial light, wearing a glory and a freshness not visible tothosewho,likeherselfandCharlottatheFourth,lookedatthingsonlythroughprose."When'stheweddingtobe?"sheaskedafterapause."ThelastWednesdayinAugust.Theyaretobemarriedinthegardenunder

the honeysuckle trellis . . . the very spotwhereMr. Irving proposed to hertwenty-fiveyearsago.Marilla, thatISromantic,eveninprose.There's tobenobody there exceptMrs. Irving andPaul andGilbert andDiana and I, andMissLavendar'scousins.Andtheywillleaveonthesixo'clocktrainforatripto thePacificcoast.Whentheycomeback in thefallPaulandCharlotta theFourtharetogouptoBostontolivewiththem.ButEchoLodgeistobeleftjustasit is. . .onlyofcoursethey'llsell thehensandcow,andboardupthewindows...andeverysummerthey'recomingdowntoliveinit.I'msoglad.ItwouldhavehurtmedreadfullynextwinteratRedmondtothinkofthatdearstonehouseallstrippedanddeserted,withemptyrooms...orfarworsestill,withotherpeoplelivinginit.ButIcanthinkofitnow,justasI'vealwaysseenit,waitinghappilyforthesummertobringlifeandlaughterbacktoitagain."Therewasmoreromanceintheworldthanthatwhichhadfallentotheshare

of themiddle-aged loversof the stonehouse.Annestumbled suddenlyon itoneeveningwhenshewentovertoOrchardSlopebythewoodcutandcameout into the Barry garden. Diana Barry and Fred Wright were standingtogetherunder thebigwillow.Dianawas leaningagainst thegray trunk,herlashescastdownonverycrimsoncheeks.OnehandwasheldbyFred,whostood with his face bent toward her, stammering something in low earnesttones.Therewerenootherpeopleintheworldexcepttheirtwoselvesatthatmagicmoment;soneitherofthemsawAnne,who,afteronedazedglanceofcomprehension, turned and sped noiselessly back through the spruce wood,neverstoppingtillshegainedherowngableroom,whereshesatbreathlesslydownbyherwindowandtriedtocollectherscatteredwits."DianaandFredareinlovewitheachother,"shegasped."Oh,itdoesseem

so...so...soHOPELESSLYgrownup."Anne,of late,hadnotbeenwithouthersuspicions thatDianawasproving

falsetothemelancholyByronicheroofherearlydreams.Butas"thingsseenare mightier than things heard," or suspected, the realization that it wasactually so came to herwith almost the shock of perfect surprise.Thiswassucceededbyaqueer,littlelonelyfeeling...asif,somehow,Dianahadgoneforward into a newworld, shutting a gate behind her, leavingAnne on theoutside."Thingsarechangingsofastitalmostfrightensme,"Annethought,alittle

sadly. "And I'm afraid that this can't helpmaking some difference betweenDianaandme.I'msureIcan'ttellherallmysecretsafterthis. . .shemight

tellFred.AndwhatCANsheseeinFred?He'sveryniceandjolly...buthe'sjustFredWright."It is always a very puzzling question . . . what can somebody see in

somebodyelse?Buthowfortunateafterallthatitisso,forifeverybodysawalike...well,inthatcase,astheoldIndiansaid,"Everybodywouldwantmysquaw."ItwasplainthatDianaDIDseesomethinginFredWright,howeverAnne'seyesmightbeholden.DianacametoGreenGablesthenextevening,apensive,shyyounglady,andtoldAnnethewholestoryintheduskyseclusionoftheeastgable.Bothgirlscriedandkissedandlaughed."I'msohappy,"saidDiana,"butitdoesseemridiculoustothinkofmebeing

engaged.""Whatisitreallyliketobeengaged?"askedAnnecuriously."Well, that all depends onwho you're engaged to," answeredDiana,with

that maddening air of superior wisdom always assumed by those who areengagedoverthosewhoarenot."It'sperfectlylovelytobeengagedtoFred...butIthinkitwouldbesimplyhorridtobeengagedtoanyoneelse.""There'snotmuchcomfortfortherestofusinthat,seeingthatthereisonly

oneFred,"laughedAnne."Oh,Anne, you don't understand," saidDiana in vexation. "I didn'tmean

THAT . . . it's so hard to explain.Nevermind, you'll understand sometime,whenyourownturncomes.""Blessyou,dearestofDianas,Iunderstandnow.Whatisanimaginationfor

ifnottoenableyoutopeepatlifethroughotherpeople'seyes?""You must be my bridesmaid, you know, Anne. Promise me that . . .

whereveryoumaybewhenI'mmarried.""I'llcomefromtheendsoftheearthifnecessary,"promisedAnnesolemnly."Ofcourse, itwon'tbe forever so longyet," saidDiana,blushing. "Three

yearsattheveryleast...forI'monlyeighteenandmothersaysnodaughterof hers shall be married before she's twenty-one. Besides, Fred's father isgoingtobuytheAbrahamFletcherfarmforhimandhesayshe'sgottohaveittwothirdspaidforbeforehe'llgiveittohiminhisownname.Butthreeyearsisn'tanytoomuchtimetogetreadyforhousekeeping,forIhaven'taspeckoffancy work made yet. But I'm going to begin crocheting doilies tomorrow.MyraGillishadthirty-sevendoilieswhenshewasmarriedandI'mdeterminedIshallhaveasmanyasshehad.""Isupposeitwouldbeperfectlyimpossibletokeephousewithonlythirty-

sixdoilies,"concededAnne,withasolemnfacebutdancingeyes.Dianalookedhurt."Ididn'tthinkyou'dmakefunofme,Anne,"shesaidreproachfully."Dearest,Iwasn'tmakingfunofyou,"criedAnnerepentantly."Iwasonly

teasing you a bit. I think you'llmake the sweetest little housekeeper in theworld.AndIthinkit'sperfectlylovelyofyoutobeplanningalreadyforyourhomeo'dreams."Annehadnosoonerutteredthephrase,"homeo'dreams,"thanitcaptivated

herfancyandsheimmediatelybegantheerectionofoneofherown.Itwas,ofcourse, tenantedbyan idealmaster,dark,proud, andmelancholy;butoddlyenough, Gilbert Blythe persisted in hanging about too, helping her arrangepictures, lay out gardens, and accomplish sundry other taskswhich a proudandmelancholyheroevidentlyconsideredbeneathhisdignity.Anne tried tobanish Gilbert's image from her castle in Spain but, somehow, he went onbeing there, soAnne,being inahurry,gaveup theattemptandpursuedheraerialarchitecturewithsuchsuccess thather"homeo'dreams"wasbuiltandfurnishedbeforeDianaspokeagain."Isuppose,Anne,youmustthinkit'sfunnyIshouldlikeFredsowellwhen

he'ssodifferentfromthekindofmanI'vealwayssaidIwouldmarry...thetall,slenderkind?ButsomehowIwouldn'twantFredtobetallandslender...because, don't you see, he wouldn't be Fred then. Of course," addedDianarather dolefully, "we will be a dreadfully pudgy couple. But after all that'sbetter than one of us being short and fat and the other tall and lean, likeMorganSloaneandhiswife.Mrs.Lyndesaysitalwaysmakesherthinkofthelongandshortofitwhensheseesthemtogether.""Well," saidAnne toherself thatnight, as shebrushedherhair beforeher

giltframedmirror,"IamgladDianaissohappyandsatisfied.Butwhenmyturncomes...ifiteverdoes...Idohopethere'llbesomethingalittlemorethrillingaboutit.ButthenDianathoughtsotoo,once.I'veheardhersaytimeand again she'd never get engaged any poky commonplace way . . . he'dHAVEtodosomethingsplendidtowinher.Butshehaschanged.PerhapsI'llchange too. But I won't . . . and I'm determined I won't. Oh, I think theseengagements are dreadfully unsettling things when they happen to yourintimatefriends."

XXXAWeddingattheStoneHouse

ThelastweekinAugustcame.MissLavendarwastobemarriedinit.TwoweekslaterAnneandGilbertwouldleaveforRedmondCollege.Inaweek'stimeMrs.RachelLyndewouldmovetoGreenGablesandsetupherlaresandpenates in the erstwhile spare room, which was already prepared for hercoming.Shehadsoldallhersuperfluoushouseholdplenishingsbyauctionand

wasatpresentrevelinginthecongenialoccupationofhelpingtheAllanspackup.Mr. Allan was to preach his farewell sermon the next Sunday. The oldorderwaschangingrapidlytogiveplacetothenew,asAnnefeltwithalittlesadnessthreadingallherexcitementandhappiness."Changes ain't totally pleasant but they're excellent things," said Mr.

Harrisonphilosophically."Twoyears isabout longenoughfor things tostayexactlythesame.Iftheystayedputanylongertheymightgrowmossy."Mr.Harrisonwas smoking on his veranda.Hiswife had self-sacrificingly

toldthathemightsmokeinthehouseifhetookcaretositbyanopenwindow.Mr.Harrisonrewardedthisconcessionbygoingoutdoorsaltogethertosmokeinfineweather,andsomutualgoodwillreigned.Annehadcomeover toaskMrs.Harrisonforsomeofheryellowdahlias.

SheandDianaweregoingthroughtoEchoLodgethateveningtohelpMissLavendar and Charlotta the Fourth with their final preparations for themorrow's bridal.Miss Lavendar herself never had dahlias; she did not likethemandtheywouldnothavesuitedthefineretirementofherold-fashionedgarden. But flowers of any kind were rather scarce in Avonlea and theneighboringdistrictsthatsummer,thankstoUncleAbe'sstorm;andAnneandDianathoughtthatacertainoldcream-coloredstonejug,usuallykeptsacredtodoughnuts,brimmedoverwithyellowdahlias,wouldbejustthethingtosetinadimangleof the stonehouse stairs, against thedarkbackgroundof redhallpaper."I s'poseyou'll be startingoff for college in a fortnight's time?"continued

Mr.Harrison."Well,we'regoingtomissyouanawfullot,Emilyandme.Tobe sure,Mrs.Lynde'll beover there inyourplace.There ain't nobodybut asubstitutecanbefoundforthem."TheironyofMr.Harrison'stoneisquiteuntransferabletopaper.Inspiteof

his wife's intimacy with Mrs. Lynde, the best that could be said of therelationship between her andMr.Harrison even under the new regime,wasthattheypreservedanarmedneutrality."Yes,I'mgoing,"saidAnne."I'mverygladwithmyhead...andverysorry

withmyheart.""Is'poseyou'llbescoopingupall thehonors thatare lying round looseat

Redmond.""Imay try for one or two of them," confessedAnne, "but I don't care so

muchforthingslikethatasIdidtwoyearsago.WhatIwanttogetoutofmycollegecourseissomeknowledgeofthebestwayoflivinglifeanddoingthemostandbestwithit.Iwanttolearntounderstandandhelpotherpeopleandmyself."Mr.Harrisonnodded."That's the ideaexactly.That'swhatcollegeought tobe for, insteadof for

turningoutalotofB.A.'s,sochockfullofbook-learningandvanitythatthereain'troomforanythingelse.You'reallright.Collegewon'tbeabletodoyoumuchharm,Ireckon."DianaandAnnedroveovertoEchoLodgeaftertea,takingwiththemallthe

flowery spoil that several predatory expeditions in their own and theirneighbors' gardens had yielded. They found the stone house agog withexcitement. Charlotta the Fourth was flying around with such vim andbriskness that her blue bows seemed really to possess the power of beingeverywhereatonce.LikethehelmetofNavarre,Charlotta'sbluebowswavedeverinthethickestofthefray."Praisebetogoodnessyou'vecome,"shesaiddevoutly,"forthere'sheapsof

thingstodo...andthefrostingonthatcakeWON'Tharden...andthere'sallthesilvertoberubbedupyet...andthehorsehairtrunktobepacked...andthe roosters for thechickensaladare runningout therebeyant thehenhouseyet,crowing,MissShirley,ma'am.AndMissLavendarain'ttobetrustedtodoathing.IwasthankfulwhenMr.Irvingcameafewminutesagoandtookheroff for a walk in the woods. Courting's all right in its place,Miss Shirley,ma'am, but if you try to mix it up with cooking and scouring everything'sspoiled.That'sMYopinion,MissShirley,ma'am."AnneandDianaworked soheartily that by teno'clock evenCharlotta the

Fourthwassatisfied.Shebraidedherhairininnumerableplaitsandtookherwearylittlebonesofftobed."ButI'msureIshan'tsleepablessedwink,MissShirley,ma'am,forfearthat

something'llgowrongatthelastminute...thecreamwon'twhip...orMr.Irving'llhaveastrokeandnotbeabletocome.""He isn't in the habit of having strokes, is he?" askedDiana, the dimpled

corners of hermouth twitching. ToDiana, Charlotta the Fourth was, if notexactlyathingofbeauty,certainlyajoyforever."They'renotthingsthatgobyhabit,"saidCharlottatheFourthwithdignity.

"They justHAPPEN . . . and there you are.ANYBODYcanhave a stroke.Youdon'thavetolearnhow.Mr.Irvinglooksalotlikeanuncleofminethathad one once just as he was sitting down to dinner one day. But maybeeverything'llgoallright.Inthisworldyou'vejustgottohopeforthebestandpreparefortheworstandtakewhateverGodsends.""Theonly thing I'mworried about is that itwon't be fine tomorrow," said

Diana."UncleAbepredictedrainforthemiddleof theweek,andeversincethe big storm I can't help believing there's a good deal in what Uncle Abesays."Anne,whoknewbetterthanDianajusthowmuchUncleAbehadtodowith

thestorm,wasnotmuchdisturbedbythis.Shesleptthesleepofthejustandweary,andwasrousedatanunearthlyhourbyCharlottatheFourth.

"Oh, Miss Shirley, ma'am, it's awful to call you so early," came wailingthroughthekeyhole,"butthere'ssomuchtodoyet...andoh,MissShirley,ma'am,I'mskeeredit'sgoingtorainandIwishyou'dgetupandtellmeyouthinkitain't."Anneflewtothewindow,hopingagainsthopethatCharlottatheFourthwassayingthismerelybywayofrousinghereffectually.Butalas,themorning did look unpropitious.Below thewindowMissLavendar's garden,whichshouldhavebeenagloryofpalevirginsunshine,laydimandwindless;andtheskyoverthefirswasdarkwithmoodyclouds."Isn'tittoomean!"saidDiana."Wemust hope for the best," said Anne determinedly. "If it only doesn't

actuallyrain,acool,pearlygraydaylike thiswouldreallybenicer thanhotsunshine.""Butitwillrain,"mournedCharlotta,creepingintotheroom,afigureoffun,

with her many braids wound about her head, the ends, tied up with whitethread,stickingoutinalldirections."It'llholdofftillthelastminuteandthenpourcatsanddogs.Andall thefolkswillgetsopping. . .andtrackmudalloverthehouse...andtheywon'tbeabletobemarriedunderthehoneysuckle. . .andit'sawfulunluckyfornosuntoshineonabride,saywhatyouwill,MissShirley,ma'am.Iknewthingsweregoingtoowelltolast."Charlotta theFourthseemedcertainly tohaveborroweda leafoutofMiss

ElizaAndrews'book.Itdidnotrain,thoughitkeptonlookingasifitmeantto.Bynoontherooms

were decorated, the table beautifully laid; and upstairswaswaiting a bride,"adornedforherhusband.""Youdolooksweet,"saidAnnerapturously."Lovely,"echoedDiana."Everything's ready, Miss Shirley, ma'am, and nothing dreadful has

happenedYET,"wasCharlotta's cheerful statement as she betook herself toher little back room to dress.Out came all the braids; the resultant rampantcrinklinesswasplaited into two tails and tied,notwith twobowsalone,butwithfour,ofbrand-newribbon,brightlyblue.ThetwoupperbowsrathergavetheimpressionofovergrownwingssproutingfromCharlotta'sneck,somewhatafterthefashionofRaphael'scherubs.ButCharlottatheFourththoughtthemverybeautiful,andaftershehadrustledintoawhitedress,sostifflystarchedthat it could stand alone, she surveyed herself in her glass with greatsatisfaction . . .asatisfactionwhich lasteduntilshewentout in thehallandcaught a glimpse through the spare room door of a tall girl in some softlyclinginggown,pinningwhite, star-like flowerson the smooth ripplesofherruddyhair."Oh,I'llNEVERbeabletolooklikeMissShirley,"thoughtpoorCharlotta

despairingly. "You just have to be born so, I guess . . . don't seem's if any

amountofpracticecouldgiveyouthatAIR."Byoneo'clocktheguestshadcome,includingMr.andMrs.Allan,forMr.

AllanwastoperformtheceremonyintheabsenceoftheGraftonministeronhisvacation.Therewasnoformalityaboutthemarriage.MissLavendarcamedownthestairstomeetherbridegroomatthefoot,andashetookherhandsheliftedherbigbrowneyes tohiswitha look thatmadeCharlotta theFourth,who intercepted it, feelqueerer thanever.Theywentout to thehoneysucklearbor,whereMr.Allanwasawaitingthem.Theguestsgroupedthemselvesastheypleased.AnneandDianastoodbytheoldstonebench,withCharlottatheFourthbetweenthem,desperatelyclutchingtheirhandsinhercold,tremulouslittlepaws.Mr.Allanopenedhisbluebookandtheceremonyproceeded.JustasMiss

LavendarandStephenIrvingwerepronouncedmanandwifeaverybeautifuland symbolic thing happened.The sun suddenly burst through the gray andpouredafloodofradianceonthehappybride.Instantlythegardenwasalivewithdancingshadowsandflickeringlights."Whatalovelyomen,"thoughtAnne,assherantokissthebride.Thenthe

threegirlslefttherestoftheguestslaughingaroundthebridalpairwhiletheyflewintothehousetoseethatallwasinreadinessforthefeast."Thanksbetogoodness,it'sover,MissShirley,ma'am,"breathedCharlotta

theFourth,"andthey'remarriedsafeandsound,nomatterwhathappensnow.The bags of rice are in the pantry,ma'am, and the old shoes are behind thedoor,andthecreamforwhippingisonthesullarsteps."At half past twoMr. andMrs. Irving left, and everybody went to Bright

Rivertoseethemoffontheafternoontrain.AsMissLavendar...Ibegherpardon,Mrs.Irving...steppedfromthedoorofheroldhomeGilbertandthegirls threw the rice and Charlotta the Fourth hurled an old shoe with suchexcellent aim that she struck Mr. Allan squarely on the head. But it wasreserved for Paul to give the prettiest send-off.He popped out of the porchringing furiouslyahugeoldbrassdinnerbellwhichhadadorned thediningroommantel.Paul'sonlymotivewastomakeajoyfulnoise;butastheclangordiedaway, frompointandcurveandhillacross therivercame thechimeof"fairy wedding bells," ringing clearly, sweetly, faintly and more faint, as ifMissLavendar'sbelovedechoeswerebiddinghergreetingandfarewell.Andso, amid this benedictionof sweet sounds,MissLavendar drove away fromtheoldlifeofdreamsandmake-believestoafullerlifeofrealitiesinthebusyworldbeyond.Twohours laterAnneandCharlotta theFourthcamedownthe laneagain.

Gilbert had gone toWest Grafton on an errand and Diana had to keep anengagementathome.AnneandCharlottahadcomebacktoputthingsinorderand lock up the little stone house. The garden was a pool of late golden

sunshine,withbutterflieshoveringandbeesbooming;butthelittlehousehadalreadythatindefinableairofdesolationwhichalwaysfollowsafestivity."Ohdearme,don'titlooklonesome?"sniffedCharlottatheFourth,whohad

been crying all the way home from the station. "A wedding ain't muchcheerfullerthanafuneralafterall,whenit'sallover,MissShirley,ma'am."A busy evening followed. The decorations had to be removed, the dishes

washed, the uneaten delicacies packed into a basket for the delectation ofCharlotta the Fourth's young brothers at home. Anne would not rest untileverything was in apple-pie order; after Charlotta had gone home with herplunderAnnewentoverthestillrooms,feelinglikeonewhotrodalonesomebanquethalldeserted,andclosedtheblinds.Thenshelockedthedoorandsatdown under the silver poplar towait forGilbert, feeling very tired but stillunweariedlythinking"long,longthoughts.""What areyou thinkingof,Anne?"askedGilbert, comingdown thewalk.

Hehadlefthishorseandbuggyoutattheroad."Of Miss Lavendar and Mr. Irving," answered Anne dreamily. "Isn't it

beautiful to think how everything has turned out . . . how they have cometogetheragainafteralltheyearsofseparationandmisunderstanding?""Yes,it'sbeautiful,"saidGilbert,lookingsteadilydownintoAnne'suplifted

face,"butwouldn't ithavebeenmorebeautifulstill,Anne, if therehadbeenNOseparationormisunderstanding...iftheyhadcomehandinhandallthewaythroughlife,withnomemoriesbehindthembutthosewhichbelongedtoeachother?"ForamomentAnne'sheartflutteredqueerlyandforthefirsttimehereyes

falteredunderGilbert'sgazeandarosyflushstainedthepalenessofherface.Itwasasifaveilthathadhungbeforeherinnerconsciousnesshadbeenlifted,givingtoherviewarevelationofunsuspectedfeelingsandrealities.Perhaps,afterall,romancedidnotcomeintoone'slifewithpompandblare,likeagayknight ridingdown;perhaps it crept toone's side like anold friend throughquiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some suddenshaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and themusic, perhaps . . . perhaps . . . love unfolded naturally out of a beautifulfriendship,asagolden-heartedroseslippingfromitsgreensheath.Thentheveildroppedagain;buttheAnnewhowalkedupthedarklanewas

notquitethesameAnnewhohaddrivengailydownittheeveningbefore.Thepage of girlhood had been turned, as by an unseen finger, and the page ofwomanhood was before her with all its charm and mystery, its pain andgladness.Gilbertwiselysaidnothingmore;butinhissilencehereadthehistoryofthe

nextfouryearsinthelightofAnne'srememberedblush.Fouryearsofearnest,happywork . . . and then the guerdon of a useful knowledge gained and a

sweetheartwon.Behind them in the garden the little stone house brooded among the

shadows.Itwaslonelybutnotforsaken.Ithadnotyetdonewithdreamsandlaughterandthejoyoflife;thereweretobefuturesummersforthelittlestonehouse; meanwhile, it could wait. And over the river in purple durance theechoesbidedtheirtime.

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