moderne wohnzimmer tapezieren

chapter ithe shadow of change to all the girls all over the world whohave "wanted more" about anne all precious things discovered lateto those that seek them issue forth, for love in sequel works with fate,and draws the veil from hidden worth. --tennyson "harvest is ended and summer is gone,"quoted anne shirley, gazing across the shorn fields dreamily. she and diana barry had been picking applesin the green gables orchard, but were now resting from their labors in a sunnycorner, where airy fleets of thistledown

drifted by on the wings of a wind that was still summer-sweet with the incense offerns in the haunted wood. but everything in the landscape around themspoke of autumn. the sea was roaring hollowly in thedistance, the fields were bare and sere, scarfed with golden rod, the brook valleybelow green gables overflowed with asters of ethereal purple, and the lake of shining waters was blue--blue--blue; not thechangeful blue of spring, nor the pale azure of summer, but a clear, steadfast,serene blue, as if the water were past all moods and tenses of emotion and had settled

down to a tranquility unbroken by fickledreams. "it has been a nice summer," said diana,twisting the new ring on her left hand with a smile. "and miss lavendar's wedding seemed to comeas a sort of crown to it. i suppose mr. and mrs. irving are on thepacific coast now." "it seems to me they have been gone longenough to go around the world," sighed anne."i can't believe it is only a week since they were married. everything has changed.miss lavendar and mr. and mrs. allan gone--

how lonely the manse looks with theshutters all closed! i went past it last night, and it made mefeel as if everybody in it had died." "we'll never get another minister as niceas mr. allan," said diana, with gloomy conviction. "i suppose we'll have all kinds of suppliesthis winter, and half the sundays no preaching at all.and you and gilbert gone--it will be awfully dull." "fred will be here," insinuated anne slyly."when is mrs. lynde going to move up?" asked diana, as if she had not heard anne'sremark.

"tomorrow. i'm glad she's coming--but it will beanother change. marilla and i cleared everything out of thespare room yesterday. do you know, i hated to do it? of course, it was silly--but it did seem asif we were committing sacrilege. that old spare room has always seemed likea shrine to me. when i was a child i thought it the mostwonderful apartment in the world. you remember what a consuming desire i hadto sleep in a spare room bed--but not the green gables spare room.

oh, no, never there!it would have been too terrible--i couldn't have slept a wink from awe. i never walked through that room whenmarilla sent me in on an errand--no, indeed, i tiptoed through it and held mybreath, as if i were in church, and felt relieved when i got out of it. the pictures of george whitefield and theduke of wellington hung there, one on each side of the mirror, and frowned so sternlyat me all the time i was in, especially if i dared peep in the mirror, which was the only one in the house that didn't twist myface a little.

i always wondered how marilla daredhouseclean that room. and now it's not only cleaned but strippedbare. george whitefield and the duke have beenrelegated to the upstairs hall. 'so passes the glory of this world,'"concluded anne, with a laugh in which there was a little note of regret. it is never pleasant to have our oldshrines desecrated, even when we have outgrown them."i'll be so lonesome when you go," moaned diana for the hundredth time. "and to think you go next week!""but we're together still," said anne

cheerily."we mustn't let next week rob us of this week's joy. i hate the thought of going myself--homeand i are such good friends. talk of being lonesome!it's i who should groan. you'll be here with any number of your oldfriends--and fred! while i shall be alone among strangers, notknowing a soul!" "except gilbert--and charlie sloane," saiddiana, imitating anne's italics and slyness. "charlie sloane will be a great comfort, ofcourse," agreed anne sarcastically;

whereupon both those irresponsible damselslaughed. diana knew exactly what anne thought ofcharlie sloane; but, despite sundry confidential talks, she did not know justwhat anne thought of gilbert blythe. to be sure, anne herself did not know that. "the boys may be boarding at the other endof kingsport, for all i know," anne went on."i am glad i'm going to redmond, and i am sure i shall like it after a while. but for the first few weeks i know i won't.i shan't even have the comfort of looking forward to the weekend visit home, as i hadwhen i went to queen's.

christmas will seem like a thousand yearsaway." "everything is changing--or going tochange," said diana sadly. "i have a feeling that things will never bethe same again, anne." "we have come to a parting of the ways, isuppose," said anne thoughtfully. "we had to come to it. do you think, diana, that being grown-up isreally as nice as we used to imagine it would be when we were children?" "i don't know--there are some nice thingsabout it," answered diana, again caressing her ring with that little smile whichalways had the effect of making anne feel

suddenly left out and inexperienced. "but there are so many puzzling things,too. sometimes i feel as if being grown-up justfrightened me--and then i would give anything to be a little girl again." "i suppose we'll get used to being grownupin time," said anne cheerfully. "there won't be so many unexpected thingsabout it by and by--though, after all, i fancy it's the unexpected things that givespice to life. we're eighteen, diana. in two more years we'll be twenty.when i was ten i thought twenty was a green

old age. in no time you'll be a staid, middle-agedmatron, and i shall be nice, old maid aunt anne, coming to visit you on vacations.you'll always keep a corner for me, won't you, di darling? not the spare room, of course--old maidscan't aspire to spare rooms, and i shall be as 'umble as uriah heep, and quite contentwith a little over-the-porch or off-the- parlor cubby hole." "what nonsense you do talk, anne," laugheddiana. "you'll marry somebody splendid andhandsome and rich--and no spare room in

avonlea will be half gorgeous enough foryou--and you'll turn up your nose at all the friends of your youth." "that would be a pity; my nose is quitenice, but i fear turning it up would spoil it," said anne, patting that shapely organ. "i haven't so many good features that icould afford to spoil those i have; so, even if i should marry the king of thecannibal islands, i promise you i won't turn up my nose at you, diana." with another gay laugh the girls separated,diana to return to orchard slope, anne to walk to the post office.

she found a letter awaiting her there, andwhen gilbert blythe overtook her on the bridge over the lake of shining waters shewas sparkling with the excitement of it. "priscilla grant is going to redmond, too,"she exclaimed. "isn't that splendid?i hoped she would, but she didn't think her father would consent. he has, however, and we're to boardtogether. i feel that i can face an army withbanners--or all the professors of redmond in one fell phalanx--with a chum likepriscilla by my side." "i think we'll like kingsport," saidgilbert.

"it's a nice old burg, they tell me, andhas the finest natural park in the world. i've heard that the scenery in it ismagnificent." "i wonder if it will be--can be--any morebeautiful than this," murmured anne, looking around her with the loving,enraptured eyes of those to whom "home" must always be the loveliest spot in the world, no matter what fairer lands may lieunder alien stars. they were leaning on the bridge of the oldpond, drinking deep of the enchantment of the dusk, just at the spot where anne hadclimbed from her sinking dory on the day elaine floated down to camelot.

the fine, empurpling dye of sunset stillstained the western skies, but the moon was rising and the water lay like a great,silver dream in her light. remembrance wove a sweet and subtle spellover the two young creatures. "you are very quiet, anne," said gilbert atlast. "i'm afraid to speak or move for fear allthis wonderful beauty will vanish just like a broken silence," breathed anne. gilbert suddenly laid his hand over theslender white one lying on the rail of the bridge. his hazel eyes deepened into darkness, hisstill boyish lips opened to say something

of the dream and hope that thrilled hissoul. but anne snatched her hand away and turnedquickly. the spell of the dusk was broken for her."i must go home," she exclaimed, with a rather overdone carelessness. "marilla had a headache this afternoon, andi'm sure the twins will be in some dreadful mischief by this time.i really shouldn't have stayed away so long." she chattered ceaselessly andinconsequently until they reached the green gables lane.poor gilbert hardly had a chance to get a

word in edgewise. anne felt rather relieved when they parted.there had been a new, secret self- consciousness in her heart with regard togilbert, ever since that fleeting moment of revelation in the garden of echo lodge. something alien had intruded into the old,perfect, school-day comradeship--something that threatened to mar it. "i never felt glad to see gilbert gobefore," she thought, half-resentfully, half-sorrowfully, as she walked alone upthe lane. "our friendship will be spoiled if he goeson with this nonsense.

it mustn't be spoiled--i won't let it.oh, why can't boys be just sensible!" anne had an uneasy doubt that it was notstrictly "sensible" that she should still feel on her hand the warm pressure ofgilbert's, as distinctly as she had felt it for the swift second his had rested there; and still less sensible that the sensationwas far from being an unpleasant one--very different from that which had attended asimilar demonstration on charlie sloane's part, when she had been sitting out a dance with him at a white sands party threenights before. anne shivered over the disagreeablerecollection.

but all problems connected with infatuatedswains vanished from her mind when she entered the homely, unsentimentalatmosphere of the green gables kitchen where an eight-year-old boy was cryinggrievously on the sofa. "what is the matter, davy?" asked anne,taking him up in her arms. "where are marilla and dora?" "marilla's putting dora to bed," sobbeddavy, "and i'm crying 'cause dora fell down the outside cellar steps, heels over head,and scraped all the skin off her nose, and- -" "oh, well, don't cry about it, dear.of course, you are sorry for her, but

crying won't help her any.she'll be all right tomorrow. crying never helps any one, davy-boy, and--" "i ain't crying 'cause dora fell downcellar," said davy, cutting short anne's wellmeant preachment with increasingbitterness. "i'm crying, cause i wasn't there to seeher fall. i'm always missing some fun or other, seemsto me." "oh, davy!" anne choked back an unholy shriek oflaughter. "would you call it fun to see poor littledora fall down the steps and get hurt?"

"she wasn't much hurt," said davy,defiantly. "'course, if she'd been killed i'd havebeen real sorry, anne. but the keiths ain't so easy killed. they're like the blewetts, i guess. herb blewett fell off the hayloft lastwednesday, and rolled right down through the turnip chute into the box stall, wherethey had a fearful wild, cross horse, and rolled right under his heels. and still he got out alive, with only threebones broke. mrs. lynde says there are some folks youcan't kill with a meat-axe.

is mrs. lynde coming here tomorrow, anne?" "yes, davy, and i hope you'll be alwaysvery nice and good to her." "i'll be nice and good.but will she ever put me to bed at nights, anne?" "perhaps.why?" "'cause," said davy very decidedly, "if shedoes i won't say my prayers before her like i do before you, anne." "why not?""'cause i don't think it would be nice to talk to god before strangers, anne.dora can say hers to mrs. lynde if she

likes, but i won't. i'll wait till she's gone and then say 'em.won't that be all right, anne?" "yes, if you are sure you won't forget tosay them, davy-boy." "oh, i won't forget, you bet. i think saying my prayers is great fun.but it won't be as good fun saying them alone as saying them to you.i wish you'd stay home, anne. i don't see what you want to go away andleave us for." "i don't exactly want to, davy, but i feeli ought to go." "if you don't want to go you needn't.

you're grown up.when i'm grown up i'm not going to do one single thing i don't want to do, anne.""all your life, davy, you'll find yourself doing things you don't want to do." "i won't," said davy flatly."catch me! i have to do things i don't want to now'cause you and marilla'll send me to bed if i don't. but when i grow up you can't do that, andthere'll be nobody to tell me not to do things.won't i have the time! say, anne, milty boulter says his mothersays you're going to college to see if you

can catch a man.are you, anne? i want to know." for a second anne burned with resentment.then she laughed, reminding herself that mrs. boulter's crude vulgarity of thoughtand speech could not harm her. "no, davy, i'm not. i'm going to study and grow and learn aboutmany things." "what things?""'shoes and ships and sealing wax and cabbages and kings,'" quoted anne. "but if you did want to catch a man howwould you go about it?

i want to know," persisted davy, for whomthe subject evidently possessed a certain fascination. "you'd better ask mrs. boulter," said annethoughtlessly. "i think it's likely she knows more aboutthe process than i do." "i will, the next time i see her," saiddavy gravely. "davy!if you do!" cried anne, realizing her mistake. "but you just told me to," protested davyaggrieved. "it's time you went to bed," decreed anne,by way of getting out of the scrape.

after davy had gone to bed anne wandereddown to victoria island and sat there alone, curtained with fine-spun, moonlitgloom, while the water laughed around her in a duet of brook and wind. anne had always loved that brook.many a dream had she spun over its sparkling water in days gone by. she forgot lovelorn youths, and the cayennespeeches of malicious neighbors, and all the problems of her girlish existence. in imagination she sailed over storied seasthat wash the distant shining shores of "faery lands forlorn," where lost atlantisand elysium lie, with the evening star for

pilot, to the land of heart's desire. and she was richer in those dreams than inrealities; for things seen pass away, but the things that are unseen are eternal. > chapter iigarlands of autumn the following week sped swiftly, crowdedwith innumerable "last things," as anne called them. good-bye calls had to be made and received,being pleasant or otherwise, according to whether callers and called-upon wereheartily in sympathy with anne's hopes, or

thought she was too much puffed-up over going to college and that it was their dutyto "take her down a peg or two." the a.v.i.s. gave a farewell party in honorof anne and gilbert one evening at the home of josie pye, choosing that place, partlybecause mr. pye's house was large and convenient, partly because it was strongly suspected that the pye girls would havenothing to do with the affair if their offer of the house for the party was notaccepted. it was a very pleasant little time, for thepye girls were gracious, and said and did nothing to mar the harmony of the occasion--which was not according to their wont.

josie was unusually amiable--so much sothat she even remarked condescendingly to anne,"your new dress is rather becoming to you, anne. really, you look almost pretty in it.""how kind of you to say so," responded anne, with dancing eyes. her sense of humor was developing, and thespeeches that would have hurt her at fourteen were becoming merely food foramusement now. josie suspected that anne was laughing ather behind those wicked eyes; but she contented herself with whispering togertie, as they went downstairs, that anne

shirley would put on more airs than ever now that she was going to college--you'dsee! all the "old crowd" was there, full ofmirth and zest and youthful lightheartedness. diana barry, rosy and dimpled, shadowed bythe faithful fred; jane andrews, neat and sensible and plain; ruby gillis, lookingher handsomest and brightest in a cream silk blouse, with red geraniums in her golden hair; gilbert blythe and charliesloane, both trying to keep as near the elusive anne as possible; carrie sloane,looking pale and melancholy because, so it

was reported, her father would not allow oliver kimball to come near the place;moody spurgeon macpherson, whose round face and objectionable ears were as round andobjectionable as ever; and billy andrews, who sat in a corner all the evening, chuckled when any one spoke to him, andwatched anne shirley with a grin of pleasure on his broad, freckledcountenance. anne had known beforehand of the party, butshe had not known that she and gilbert were, as the founders of the society, to bepresented with a very complimentary "address" and "tokens of respect"--in her

case a volume of shakespeare's plays, ingilbert's a fountain pen. she was so taken by surprise and pleased bythe nice things said in the address, read in moody spurgeon's most solemn andministerial tones, that the tears quite drowned the sparkle of her big gray eyes. she had worked hard and faithfully for thea.v.i.s., and it warmed the cockles of her heart that the members appreciated herefforts so sincerely. and they were all so nice and friendly andjolly--even the pye girls had their merits; at that moment anne loved all the world.she enjoyed the evening tremendously, but the end of it rather spoiled all.

gilbert again made the mistake of sayingsomething sentimental to her as they ate their supper on the moonlit verandah; andanne, to punish him, was gracious to charlie sloane and allowed the latter towalk home with her. she found, however, that revenge hurtsnobody quite so much as the one who tries to inflict it. gilbert walked airily off with ruby gillis,and anne could hear them laughing and talking gaily as they loitered along in thestill, crisp autumn air. they were evidently having the best of goodtimes, while she was horribly bored by charlie sloane, who talked unbrokenly on,and never, even by accident, said one thing

that was worth listening to. anne gave an occasional absent "yes" or"no," and thought how beautiful ruby had looked that night, how very gogglycharlie's eyes were in the moonlight--worse even than by daylight--and that the world, somehow, wasn't quite such a nice place asshe had believed it to be earlier in the evening. "i'm just tired out--that is what is thematter with me," she said, when she thankfully found herself alone in her ownroom. and she honestly believed it was.

but a certain little gush of joy, as fromsome secret, unknown spring, bubbled up in her heart the next evening, when she sawgilbert striding down through the haunted wood and crossing the old log bridge withthat firm, quick step of his. so gilbert was not going to spend this lastevening with ruby gillis after all! "you look tired, anne," he said. "i am tired, and, worse than that, i'mdisgruntled. i'm tired because i've been packing mytrunk and sewing all day. but i'm disgruntled because six women havebeen here to say good-bye to me, and every one of the six managed to say somethingthat seemed to take the color right out of

life and leave it as gray and dismal andcheerless as a november morning." "spiteful old cats!" was gilbert's elegantcomment. "oh, no, they weren't," said anneseriously. "that is just the trouble.if they had been spiteful cats i wouldn't have minded them. but they are all nice, kind, motherlysouls, who like me and whom i like, and that is why what they said, or hinted, hadsuch undue weight with me. they let me see they thought i was crazygoing to redmond and trying to take a b.a., and ever since i've been wondering if i am.

mrs. peter sloane sighed and said she hopedmy strength would hold out till i got through; and at once i saw myself ahopeless victim of nervous prostration at the end of my third year; mrs. eben wright said it must cost an awful lot to put infour years at redmond; and i felt all over me that it was unpardonable of me tosquander marilla's money and my own on such a folly. mrs. jasper bell said she hoped i wouldn'tlet college spoil me, as it did some people; and i felt in my bones that the endof my four redmond years would see me a most insufferable creature, thinking i knew

it all, and looking down on everything andeverybody in avonlea; mrs. elisha wright said she understood that redmond girls,especially those who belonged to kingsport, were 'dreadful dressy and stuck-up,' and she guessed i wouldn't feel much at homeamong them; and i saw myself, a snubbed, dowdy, humiliated country girl, shufflingthrough redmond's classic halls in coppertoned boots." anne ended with a laugh and a sighcommingled. with her sensitive nature all disapprovalhad weight, even the disapproval of those for whose opinions she had scant respect.

for the time being life was savorless, andambition had gone out like a snuffed candle."you surely don't care for what they said," protested gilbert. "you know exactly how narrow their outlookon life is, excellent creatures though they are.to do anything they have never done is anathema maranatha. you are the first avonlea girl who has evergone to college; and you know that all pioneers are considered to be afflictedwith moonstruck madness." "oh, i know.

but feeling is so different from knowing.my common sense tells me all you can say, but there are times when common sense hasno power over me. common nonsense takes possession of mysoul. really, after mrs. elisha went away ihardly had the heart to finish packing." "you're just tired, anne. come, forget it all and take a walk withme--a ramble back through the woods beyond the marsh.there should be something there i want to show you." "should be!don't you know if it is there?"

"no.i only know it should be, from something i saw there in spring. come on.we'll pretend we are two children again and we'll go the way of the wind."they started gaily off. anne, remembering the unpleasantness of thepreceding evening, was very nice to gilbert; and gilbert, who was learningwisdom, took care to be nothing save the schoolboy comrade again. mrs. lynde and marilla watched them fromthe kitchen window. "that'll be a match some day," mrs. lyndesaid approvingly.

marilla winced slightly. in her heart she hoped it would, but itwent against her grain to hear the matter spoken of in mrs. lynde's gossipy matter-of-fact way. "they're only children yet," she saidshortly. mrs. lynde laughed good-naturedly."anne is eighteen; i was married when i was that age. we old folks, marilla, are too much givento thinking children never grow up, that's what. anne is a young woman and gilbert's a man,and he worships the ground she walks on, as

any one can see.he's a fine fellow, and anne can't do better. i hope she won't get any romantic nonsenseinto her head at redmond. i don't approve of them coeducationalplaces and never did, that's what. i don't believe," concluded mrs. lyndesolemnly, "that the students at such colleges ever do much else than flirt.""they must study a little," said marilla, with a smile. "precious little," sniffed mrs. rachel."however, i think anne will. she never was flirtatious.but she doesn't appreciate gilbert at his

full value, that's what. oh, i know girls!charlie sloane is wild about her, too, but i'd never advise her to marry a sloane.the sloanes are good, honest, respectable people, of course. but when all's said and done, they'resloanes." marilla nodded. to an outsider, the statement that sloaneswere sloanes might not be very illuminating, but she understood. every village has such a family; good,honest, respectable people they may be, but

sloanes they are and must ever remain,though they speak with the tongues of men and angels. gilbert and anne, happily unconscious thattheir future was thus being settled by mrs. rachel, were sauntering through the shadowsof the haunted wood. beyond, the harvest hills were basking inan amber sunset radiance, under a pale, aerial sky of rose and blue. the distant spruce groves were burnishedbronze, and their long shadows barred the upland meadows. but around them a little wind sang amongthe fir tassels, and in it there was the

note of autumn. "this wood really is haunted now--by oldmemories," said anne, stooping to gather a spray of ferns, bleached to waxen whitenessby frost. "it seems to me that the little girls dianaand i used to be play here still, and sit by the dryad's bubble in the twilights,trysting with the ghosts. do you know, i can never go up this path inthe dusk without feeling a bit of the old fright and shiver? there was one especially horrifying phantomwhich we created--the ghost of the murdered child that crept up behind you and laidcold fingers on yours.

i confess that, to this day, i cannot helpfancying its little, furtive footsteps behind me when i come here after nightfall. i'm not afraid of the white lady or theheadless man or the skeletons, but i wish i had never imagined that baby's ghost intoexistence. how angry marilla and mrs. barry were overthat affair," concluded anne, with reminiscent laughter. the woods around the head of the marsh werefull of purple vistas, threaded with gossamers. past a dour plantation of gnarled sprucesand a maple-fringed, sun-warm valley they

found the "something" gilbert was lookingfor. "ah, here it is," he said withsatisfaction. "an apple tree--and away back here!"exclaimed anne delightedly. "yes, a veritable apple-bearing apple tree,too, here in the very midst of pines and beeches, a mile away from any orchard.i was here one day last spring and found it, all white with blossom. so i resolved i'd come again in the falland see if it had been apples. see, it's loaded.they look good, too--tawny as russets but with a dusky red cheek.

most wild seedlings are green anduninviting." "i suppose it sprang years ago from somechance-sown seed," said anne dreamily. "and how it has grown and flourished andheld its own here all alone among aliens, the brave determined thing!""here's a fallen tree with a cushion of moss. sit down, anne--it will serve for awoodland throne. i'll climb for some apples.they all grow high--the tree had to reach up to the sunlight." the apples proved to be delicious.

under the tawny skin was a white, whiteflesh, faintly veined with red; and, besides their own proper apple taste, theyhad a certain wild, delightful tang no orchard-grown apple ever possessed. "the fatal apple of eden couldn't have hada rarer flavor," commented anne. "but it's time we were going home.see, it was twilight three minutes ago and now it's moonlight. what a pity we couldn't have caught themoment of transformation. but such moments never are caught, isuppose." "let's go back around the marsh and home byway of lover's lane.

do you feel as disgruntled now as when youstarted out, anne?" "not i. those apples have been as manna to a hungrysoul. i feel that i shall love redmond and have asplendid four years there." "and after those four years--what?" "oh, there's another bend in the road attheir end," answered anne lightly. "i've no idea what may be around it--idon't want to have. it's nicer not to know." lover's lane was a dear place that night,still and mysteriously dim in the pale

radiance of the moonlight.they loitered through it in a pleasant chummy silence, neither caring to talk. "if gilbert were always as he has been thisevening how nice and simple everything would be," reflected anne.gilbert was looking at anne, as she walked along. in her light dress, with her slenderdelicacy, she made him think of a white iris. "i wonder if i can ever make her care forme," he thought, with a pang of self- distrust.

chapter iiigreeting and farewell charlie sloane, gilbert blythe and anneshirley left avonlea the following monday morning.anne had hoped for a fine day. diana was to drive her to the station andthey wanted this, their last drive together for some time, to be a pleasant one. but when anne went to bed sunday night theeast wind was moaning around green gables with an ominous prophecy which wasfulfilled in the morning. anne awoke to find raindrops patteringagainst her window and shadowing the pond's gray surface with widening rings; hills andsea were hidden in mist, and the whole

world seemed dim and dreary. anne dressed in the cheerless gray dawn,for an early start was necessary to catch the boat train; she struggled against thetears that would well up in her eyes in spite of herself. she was leaving the home that was so dearto her, and something told her that she was leaving it forever, save as a holidayrefuge. things would never be the same again;coming back for vacations would not be living there. and oh, how dear and beloved everythingwas--that little white porch room, sacred

to the dreams of girlhood, the old snowqueen at the window, the brook in the hollow, the dryad's bubble, the haunted woods, and lover's lane--all the thousandand one dear spots where memories of the old years bided.could she ever be really happy anywhere else? breakfast at green gables that morning wasa rather doleful meal. davy, for the first time in his lifeprobably, could not eat, but blubbered shamelessly over his porridge. nobody else seemed to have much appetite,save dora, who tucked away her rations

comfortably. dora, like the immortal and most prudentcharlotte, who "went on cutting bread and butter" when her frenzied lover's body hadbeen carried past on a shutter, was one of those fortunate creatures who are seldomdisturbed by anything. even at eight it took a great deal toruffle dora's placidity. she was sorry anne was going away, ofcourse, but was that any reason why she should fail to appreciate a poached egg ontoast? not at all. and, seeing that davy could not eat his,dora ate it for him.

promptly on time diana appeared with horseand buggy, her rosy face glowing above her raincoat. the good-byes had to be said then somehow.mrs. lynde came in from her quarters to give anne a hearty embrace and warn her tobe careful of her health, whatever she did. marilla, brusque and tearless, peckedanne's cheek and said she supposed they'd hear from her when she got settled. a casual observer might have concluded thatanne's going mattered very little to her-- unless said observer had happened to get agood look in her eyes. dora kissed anne primly and squeezed outtwo decorous little tears; but davy, who

had been crying on the back porch step eversince they rose from the table, refused to say good-bye at all. when he saw anne coming towards him hesprang to his feet, bolted up the back stairs, and hid in a clothes closet, out ofwhich he would not come. his muffled howls were the last sounds anneheard as she left green gables. it rained heavily all the way to brightriver, to which station they had to go, since the branch line train from carmodydid not connect with the boat train. charlie and gilbert were on the stationplatform when they reached it, and the train was whistling.

anne had just time to get her ticket andtrunk check, say a hurried farewell to diana, and hasten on board. she wished she were going back with dianato avonlea; she knew she was going to die of homesickness. and oh, if only that dismal rain would stoppouring down as if the whole world were weeping over summer vanished and joysdeparted! even gilbert's presence brought her nocomfort, for charlie sloane was there, too, and sloanishness could be tolerated only infine weather. it was absolutely insufferable in rain.

but when the boat steamed out ofcharlottetown harbor things took a turn for the better. the rain ceased and the sun began to burstout goldenly now and again between the rents in the clouds, burnishing the grayseas with copper-hued radiance, and lighting up the mists that curtained the island's red shores with gleams of goldforetokening a fine day after all. besides, charlie sloane promptly became soseasick that he had to go below, and anne and gilbert were left alone on deck. "i am very glad that all the sloanes getseasick as soon as they go on water,"

thought anne mercilessly. "i am sure i couldn't take my farewell lookat the 'ould sod' with charlie standing there pretending to look sentimentally atit, too." "well, we're off," remarked gilbertunsentimentally. "yes, i feel like byron's 'childe harold'--only it isn't really my 'native shore' that i'm watching," said anne, winking her grayeyes vigorously. "nova scotia is that, i suppose. but one's native shore is the land oneloves the best, and that's good old p.e.i. for me.i can't believe i didn't always live here.

those eleven years before i came seem likea bad dream. it's seven years since i crossed on thisboat--the evening mrs. spencer brought me over from hopetown. i can see myself, in that dreadful oldwincey dress and faded sailor hat, exploring decks and cabins with enrapturedcuriosity. it was a fine evening; and how those redisland shores did gleam in the sunshine. now i'm crossing the strait again.oh, gilbert, i do hope i'll like redmond and kingsport, but i'm sure i won't!" "where's all your philosophy gone, anne?""it's all submerged under a great, swamping

wave of loneliness and homesickness. i've longed for three years to go toredmond--and now i'm going--and i wish i weren't!never mind! i shall be cheerful and philosophical againafter i have just one good cry. i must have that, 'as a went'--and i'llhave to wait until i get into my boardinghouse bed tonight, wherever it maybe, before i can have it. then anne will be herself again. i wonder if davy has come out of the closetyet." it was nine that night when their trainreached kingsport, and they found

themselves in the blue-white glare of thecrowded station. anne felt horribly bewildered, but a momentlater she was seized by priscilla grant, who had come to kingsport on saturday."here you are, beloved! and i suppose you're as tired as i was wheni got here saturday night." "tired!priscilla, don't talk of it. i'm tired, and green, and provincial, andonly about ten years old. for pity's sake take your poor, broken-downchum to some place where she can hear herself think." "i'll take you right up to ourboardinghouse.

i've a cab ready outside.""it's such a blessing you're here, prissy. if you weren't i think i should just sitdown on my suitcase, here and now, and weep bitter tears.what a comfort one familiar face is in a howling wilderness of strangers!" "is that gilbert blythe over there, anne?how he has grown up this past year! he was only a schoolboy when i taught incarmody. and of course that's charlie sloane. he hasn't changed--couldn't!he looked just like that when he was born, and he'll look like that when he's eighty.this way, dear.

we'll be home in twenty minutes." "home!" groaned anne."you mean we'll be in some horrible boardinghouse, in a still more horriblehall bedroom, looking out on a dingy back yard." "it isn't a horrible boardinghouse, anne-girl. here's our cab.hop in--the driver will get your trunk. oh, yes, the boardinghouse--it's really avery nice place of its kind, as you'll admit tomorrow morning when a good night'ssleep has turned your blues rosy pink. it's a big, old-fashioned, gray stone houseon st. john street, just a nice little

constitutional from redmond. it used to be the 'residence' of greatfolk, but fashion has deserted st. john street and its houses only dream now ofbetter days. they're so big that people living in themhave to take boarders just to fill up. at least, that is the reason our landladiesare very anxious to impress on us. they're delicious, anne--our landladies, imean." "how many are there?""two. miss hannah harvey and miss ada harvey. they were born twins about fifty yearsago."

"i can't get away from twins, it seems,"smiled anne. "wherever i go they confront me." "oh, they're not twins now, dear.after they reached the age of thirty they never were twins again. miss hannah has grown old, not toogracefully, and miss ada has stayed thirty, less gracefully still. i don't know whether miss hannah can smileor not; i've never caught her at it so far, but miss ada smiles all the time and that'sworse. however, they're nice, kind souls, and theytake two boarders every year because miss

hannah's economical soul cannot bear to'waste room space'--not because they need to or have to, as miss ada has told meseven times since saturday night. as for our rooms, i admit they are hallbedrooms, and mine does look out on the back yard. your room is a front one and looks out onold st. john's graveyard, which is just across the street.""that sounds gruesome," shivered anne. "i think i'd rather have the back yardview." "oh, no, you wouldn't.wait and see. old st. john's is a darling place.

it's been a graveyard so long that it'sceased to be one and has become one of the sights of kingsport.i was all through it yesterday for a pleasure exertion. there's a big stone wall and a row ofenormous trees all around it, and rows of trees all through it, and the queerest oldtombstones, with the queerest and quaintest inscriptions. you'll go there to study, anne, see if youdon't. of course, nobody is ever buried there now. but a few years ago they put up a beautifulmonument to the memory of nova scotian

soldiers who fell in the crimean war. it is just opposite the entrance gates andthere's 'scope for imagination' in it, as you used to say.here's your trunk at last--and the boys coming to say good night. must i really shake hands with charliesloane, anne? his hands are always so cold and fishy-feeling. we must ask them to call occasionally. miss hannah gravely told me we could have'young gentlemen callers' two evenings in the week, if they went away at a reasonablehour; and miss ada asked me, smiling,

please to be sure they didn't sit on herbeautiful cushions. i promised to see to it; but goodness knowswhere else they can sit, unless they sit on the floor, for there are cushions oneverything. miss ada even has an elaborate battenburgone on top of the piano." anne was laughing by this time. priscilla's gay chatter had the intendedeffect of cheering her up; homesickness vanished for the time being, and did noteven return in full force when she finally found herself alone in her little bedroom. she went to her window and looked out.the street below was dim and quiet.

across it the moon was shining above thetrees in old st. john's, just behind the great dark head of the lion on themonument. anne wondered if it could have been onlythat morning that she had left green gables.she had the sense of a long passage of time which one day of change and travel gives. "i suppose that very moon is looking downon green gables now," she mused. "but i won't think about it--that wayhomesickness lies. i'm not even going to have my good cry. i'll put that off to a more convenientseason, and just now i'll go calmly and

sensibly to bed and to sleep." chapter ivapril's lady kingsport is a quaint old town, hearkingback to early colonial days, and wrapped in its ancient atmosphere, as some fine olddame in garments fashioned like those of her youth. here and there it sprouts out intomodernity, but at heart it is still unspoiled; it is full of curious relics,and haloed by the romance of many legends of the past. once it was a mere frontier station on thefringe of the wilderness, and those were

the days when indians kept life from beingmonotonous to the settlers. then it grew to be a bone of contentionbetween the british and the french, being occupied now by the one and now by theother, emerging from each occupation with some fresh scar of battling nations brandedon it. it has in its park a martello tower,autographed all over by tourists, a dismantled old french fort on the hillsbeyond the town, and several antiquated cannon in its public squares. it has other historic spots also, which maybe hunted out by the curious, and none is more quaint and delightful than old st.john's cemetery at the very core of the

town, with streets of quiet, old-time houses on two sides, and busy, bustling,modern thoroughfares on the others. every citizen of kingsport feels a thrillof possessive pride in old st. john's, for, if he be of any pretensions at all, he hasan ancestor buried there, with a queer, crooked slab at his head, or else sprawling protectively over the grave, on which allthe main facts of his history are recorded. for the most part no great art or skill waslavished on those old tombstones. the larger number are of roughly chiselledbrown or gray native stone, and only in a few cases is there any attempt atornamentation.

some are adorned with skull and cross-bones, and this grizzly decoration is frequently coupled with a cherub's head.many are prostrate and in ruins. into almost all time's tooth has beengnawing, until some inscriptions have been completely effaced, and others can only bedeciphered with difficulty. the graveyard is very full and very bowery,for it is surrounded and intersected by rows of elms and willows, beneath whoseshade the sleepers must lie very dreamlessly, forever crooned to by the winds and leaves over them, and quiteundisturbed by the clamor of traffic just beyond.anne took the first of many rambles in old

st. john's the next afternoon. she and priscilla had gone to redmond inthe forenoon and registered as students, after which there was nothing more to dothat day. the girls gladly made their escape, for itwas not exhilarating to be surrounded by crowds of strangers, most of whom had arather alien appearance, as if not quite sure where they belonged. the "freshettes" stood about in detachedgroups of two or three, looking askance at each other; the "freshies," wiser in theirday and generation, had banded themselves together on the big staircase of the

entrance hall, where they were shouting outglees with all the vigor of youthful lungs, as a species of defiance to theirtraditional enemies, the sophomores, a few of whom were prowling loftily about, looking properly disdainful of the"unlicked cubs" on the stairs. gilbert and charlie were nowhere to beseen. "little did i think the day would ever comewhen i'd be glad of the sight of a sloane," said priscilla, as they crossed the campus,"but i'd welcome charlie's goggle eyes almost ecstatically. at least, they'd be familiar eyes.""oh," sighed anne.

"i can't describe how i felt when i wasstanding there, waiting my turn to be registered--as insignificant as theteeniest drop in a most enormous bucket. it's bad enough to feel insignificant, butit's unbearable to have it grained into your soul that you will never, can never,be anything but insignificant, and that is how i did feel--as if i were invisible to the naked eye and some of those sophs mightstep on me. i knew i would go down to my grave unwept,unhonored and unsung." "wait till next year," comforted priscilla. "then we'll be able to look as bored andsophisticated as any sophomore of them all.

no doubt it is rather dreadful to feelinsignificant; but i think it's better than to feel as big and awkward as i did--as ifi were sprawled all over redmond. that's how i felt--i suppose because i wasa good two inches taller than any one else in the crowd. i wasn't afraid a soph might walk over me;i was afraid they'd take me for an elephant, or an overgrown sample of apotato-fed islander." "i suppose the trouble is we can't forgivebig redmond for not being little queen's," said anne, gathering about her the shredsof her old cheerful philosophy to cover her nakedness of spirit.

"when we left queen's we knew everybody andhad a place of our own. i suppose we have been unconsciouslyexpecting to take life up at redmond just where we left off at queen's, and now wefeel as if the ground had slipped from under our feet. i'm thankful that neither mrs. lynde normrs. elisha wright know, or ever will know, my state of mind at present. they would exult in saying 'i told you so,'and be convinced it was the beginning of the end.whereas it is just the end of the beginning."

"exactly.that sounds more anneish. in a little while we'll be acclimated andacquainted, and all will be well. anne, did you notice the girl who stoodalone just outside the door of the coeds' dressing room all the morning--the prettyone with the brown eyes and crooked mouth?" "yes, i did. i noticed her particularly because sheseemed the only creature there who looked as lonely and friendless as i felt.i had you, but she had no one." "i think she felt pretty all-by-herselfish,too. several times i saw her make a motion as ifto cross over to us, but she never did it--

too shy, i suppose. i wished she would come.if i hadn't felt so much like the aforesaid elephant i'd have gone to her.but i couldn't lumber across that big hall with all those boys howling on the stairs. she was the prettiest freshette i sawtoday, but probably favor is deceitful and even beauty is vain on your first day atredmond," concluded priscilla with a laugh. "i'm going across to old st. john's afterlunch," said anne. "i don't know that a graveyard is a verygood place to go to get cheered up, but it seems the only get-at-able place wherethere are trees, and trees i must have.

i'll sit on one of those old slabs and shutmy eyes and imagine i'm in the avonlea woods." anne did not do that, however, for shefound enough of interest in old st. john's to keep her eyes wide open. they went in by the entrance gates, pastthe simple, massive, stone arch surmounted by the great lion of england. "'and on inkerman yet the wild bramble isgory, and those bleak heights henceforth shall be famous in story,'" quoted anne,looking at it with a thrill. they found themselves in a dim, cool, greenplace where winds were fond of purring.

up and down the long grassy aisles theywandered, reading the quaint, voluminous epitaphs, carved in an age that had moreleisure than our own. "'here lieth the body of albert crawford,esq.,'" read anne from a worn, gray slab, "'for many years keeper of his majesty'sordnance at kingsport. he served in the army till the peace of1763, when he retired from bad health. he was a brave officer, the best ofhusbands, the best of fathers, the best of friends. he died october 29th, 1792, aged 84 years.'there's an epitaph for you, prissy. there is certainly some 'scope forimagination' in it.

how full such a life must have been ofadventure! and as for his personal qualities, i'm surehuman eulogy couldn't go further. i wonder if they told him he was all thosebest things while he was alive." "here's another," said priscilla."listen-- 'to the memory of alexander ross, who diedon the 22nd of september, 1840, aged 43 years. this is raised as a tribute of affection byone whom he served so faithfully for 27 years that he was regarded as a friend,deserving the fullest confidence and attachment.'"

"a very good epitaph," commented annethoughtfully. "i wouldn't wish a better. we are all servants of some sort, and ifthe fact that we are faithful can be truthfully inscribed on our tombstonesnothing more need be added. here's a sorrowful little gray stone,prissy--'to the memory of a favorite child.'and here is another 'erected to the memory of one who is buried elsewhere.' i wonder where that unknown grave is.really, pris, the graveyards of today will never be as interesting as this.you were right--i shall come here often.

i love it already. i see we're not alone here--there's a girldown at the end of this avenue." "yes, and i believe it's the very girl wesaw at redmond this morning. i've been watching her for five minutes. she has started to come up the avenueexactly half a dozen times, and half a dozen times has she turned and gone back.either she's dreadfully shy or she has got something on her conscience. let's go and meet her.it's easier to get acquainted in a graveyard than at redmond, i believe."

they walked down the long grassy arcadetowards the stranger, who was sitting on a gray slab under an enormous willow. she was certainly very pretty, with avivid, irregular, bewitching type of prettiness. there was a gloss as of brown nuts on hersatin-smooth hair and a soft, ripe glow on her round cheeks. her eyes were big and brown and velvety,under oddly-pointed black brows, and her crooked mouth was rose-red. she wore a smart brown suit, with two verymodish little shoes peeping from beneath

it; and her hat of dull pink straw,wreathed with golden-brown poppies, had the indefinable, unmistakable air which pertains to the "creation" of an artist inmillinery. priscilla had a sudden stingingconsciousness that her own hat had been trimmed by her village store milliner, andanne wondered uncomfortably if the blouse she had made herself, and which mrs. lynde had fitted, looked very countrified andhome-made besides the stranger's smart attire.for a moment both girls felt like turning back.

but they had already stopped and turnedtowards the gray slab. it was too late to retreat, for the brown-eyed girl had evidently concluded that they were coming to speak to her. instantly she sprang up and came forwardwith outstretched hand and a gay, friendly smile in which there seemed not a shadow ofeither shyness or burdened conscience. "oh, i want to know who you two girls are,"she exclaimed eagerly. "i've been dying to know.i saw you at redmond this morning. say, wasn't it awful there? for the time i wished i had stayed home andgot married."

anne and priscilla both broke intounconstrained laughter at this unexpected conclusion. the brown-eyed girl laughed, too."i really did. i could have, you know.come, let's all sit down on this gravestone and get acquainted. it won't be hard.i know we're going to adore each other--i knew it as soon as i saw you at redmondthis morning. i wanted so much to go right over and hugyou both." "why didn't you?" asked priscilla."because i simply couldn't make up my mind

to do it. i never can make up my mind about anythingmyself--i'm always afflicted with indecision. just as soon as i decide to do something ifeel in my bones that another course would be the correct one. it's a dreadful misfortune, but i was bornthat way, and there is no use in blaming me for it, as some people do.so i couldn't make up my mind to go and speak to you, much as i wanted to." "we thought you were too shy," said anne."no, no, dear.

shyness isn't among the many failings--orvirtues--of philippa gordon--phil for short. do call me phil right off.now, what are your handles?" "she's priscilla grant," said anne,pointing. "and she's anne shirley," said priscilla,pointing in turn. "and we're from the island," said bothtogether. "i hail from bolingbroke, nova scotia,"said philippa. "bolingbroke!" exclaimed anne."why, that is where i was born." "do you really mean it?

why, that makes you a bluenose after all.""no, it doesn't," retorted anne. "wasn't it dan o'connell who said that if aman was born in a stable it didn't make him a horse? i'm island to the core.""well, i'm glad you were born in bolingbroke anyway.it makes us kind of neighbors, doesn't it? and i like that, because when i tell yousecrets it won't be as if i were telling them to a stranger.i have to tell them. i can't keep secrets--it's no use to try. that's my worst failing--that, andindecision, as aforesaid.

would you believe it?--it took me half anhour to decide which hat to wear when i was coming here--here, to a graveyard! at first i inclined to my brown one withthe feather; but as soon as i put it on i thought this pink one with the floppy brimwould be more becoming. when i got it pinned in place i liked thebrown one better. at last i put them close together on thebed, shut my eyes, and jabbed with a hat pin. the pin speared the pink one, so i put iton. it is becoming, isn't it?tell me, what do you think of my looks?"

at this naive demand, made in a perfectlyserious tone, priscilla laughed again. but anne said, impulsively squeezingphilippa's hand, "we thought this morning that you were theprettiest girl we saw at redmond." philippa's crooked mouth flashed into abewitching, crooked smile over very white little teeth. "i thought that myself," was her nextastounding statement, "but i wanted some one else's opinion to bolster mine up.i can't decide even on my own appearance. just as soon as i've decided that i'mpretty i begin to feel miserably that i'm not.

besides, have a horrible old great-aunt whois always saying to me, with a mournful sigh, 'you were such a pretty baby.it's strange how children change when they grow up.' i adore aunts, but i detest great-aunts.please tell me quite often that i am pretty, if you don't mind.i feel so much more comfortable when i can believe i'm pretty. and i'll be just as obliging to you if youwant me to--i can be, with a clear conscience." "thanks," laughed anne, "but priscilla andi are so firmly convinced of our own good

looks that we don't need any assuranceabout them, so you needn't trouble." "oh, you're laughing at me. i know you think i'm abominably vain, buti'm not. there really isn't one spark of vanity inme. and i'm never a bit grudging about payingcompliments to other girls when they deserve them.i'm so glad i know you folks. i came up on saturday and i've nearly diedof homesickness ever since. it's a horrible feeling, isn't it?in bolingbroke i'm an important personage, and in kingsport i'm just nobody!

there were times when i could feel my soulturning a delicate blue. where do you hang out?""thirty-eight st. john's street." "better and better. why, i'm just around the corner on wallacestreet. i don't like my boardinghouse, though.it's bleak and lonesome, and my room looks out on such an unholy back yard. it's the ugliest place in the world.as for cats--well, surely all the kingsport cats can't congregate there at night, buthalf of them must. i adore cats on hearth rugs, snoozingbefore nice, friendly fires, but cats in

back yards at midnight are totallydifferent animals. the first night i was here i cried allnight, and so did the cats. you should have seen my nose in themorning. how i wished i had never left home!" "i don't know how you managed to make upyour mind to come to redmond at all, if you are really such an undecided person," saidamused priscilla. "bless your heart, honey, i didn't. it was father who wanted me to come here.his heart was set on it--why, i don't know. it seems perfectly ridiculous to think ofme studying for a b.a. degree, doesn't it?

not but what i can do it, all right. i have heaps of brains.""oh!" said priscilla vaguely. "yes.but it's such hard work to use them. and b.a.'s are such learned, dignified,wise, solemn creatures--they must be. no, i didn't want to come to redmond.i did it just to oblige father. he is such a duck. besides, i knew if i stayed home i'd haveto get married. mother wanted that--wanted it decidedly.mother has plenty of decision. but i really hated the thought of beingmarried for a few years yet.

i want to have heaps of fun before i settledown. and, ridiculous as the idea of my being ab.a. is, the idea of my being an old married woman is still more absurd, isn'tit? i'm only eighteen. no, i concluded i would rather come toredmond than be married. besides, how could i ever have made up mymind which man to marry?" "were there so many?" laughed anne. "heaps.the boys like me awfully--they really do. but there were only two that mattered.the rest were all too young and too poor.

i must marry a rich man, you know." "why must you?""honey, you couldn't imagine me being a poor man's wife, could you?i can't do a single useful thing, and i am very extravagant. oh, no, my husband must have heaps ofmoney. so that narrowed them down to two.but i couldn't decide between two any easier than between two hundred. i knew perfectly well that whichever one ichose i'd regret all my life that i hadn't married the other.""didn't you--love--either of them?" asked

anne, a little hesitatingly. it was not easy for her to speak to astranger of the great mystery and transformation of life."goodness, no. i couldn't love anybody. it isn't in me.besides i wouldn't want to. being in love makes you a perfect slave, ithink. and it would give a man such power to hurtyou. i'd be afraid. no, no, alec and alonzo are two dear boys,and i like them both so much that i really

don't know which i like the better.that is the trouble. alec is the best looking, of course, and isimply couldn't marry a man who wasn't handsome.he is good-tempered too, and has lovely, curly, black hair. he's rather too perfect--i don't believei'd like a perfect husband--somebody i could never find fault with.""then why not marry alonzo?" asked priscilla gravely. "think of marrying a name like alonzo!"said phil dolefully. "i don't believe i could endure it.

but he has a classic nose, and it would bea comfort to have a nose in the family that could be depended on.i can't depend on mine. so far, it takes after the gordon pattern,but i'm so afraid it will develop byrne tendencies as i grow older.i examine it every day anxiously to make sure it's still gordon. mother was a byrne and has the byrne nosein the byrnest degree. wait till you see it.i adore nice noses. your nose is awfully nice, anne shirley. alonzo's nose nearly turned the balance inhis favor.

but alonzo!no, i couldn't decide. if i could have done as i did with thehats--stood them both up together, shut my eyes, and jabbed with a hatpin--it wouldhave been quite easy." "what did alec and alonzo feel like whenyou came away?" queried priscilla. "oh, they still have hope.i told them they'd have to wait till i could make up my mind. they're quite willing to wait.they both worship me, you know. meanwhile, i intend to have a good time.i expect i shall have heaps of beaux at redmond.

i can't be happy unless i have, you know.but don't you think the freshmen are fearfully homely?i saw only one really handsome fellow among them. he went away before you came.i heard his chum call him gilbert. his chum had eyes that stuck out that far.but you're not going yet, girls? don't go yet." "i think we must," said anne, rathercoldly. "it's getting late, and i've some work todo." "but you'll both come to see me, won'tyou?" asked philippa, getting up and

putting an arm around each."and let me come to see you. i want to be chummy with you. i've taken such a fancy to you both.and i haven't quite disgusted you with my frivolity, have i?" "not quite," laughed anne, responding tophil's squeeze, with a return of cordiality."because i'm not half so silly as i seem on the surface, you know. you just accept philippa gordon, as thelord made her, with all her faults, and i believe you'll come to like her.isn't this graveyard a sweet place?

i'd love to be buried here. here's a grave i didn't see before--thisone in the iron railing--oh, girls, look, see--the stone says it's the grave of amiddy who was killed in the fight between the shannon and the chesapeake. just fancy!"anne paused by the railing and looked at the worn stone, her pulses thrilling withsudden excitement. the old graveyard, with its over-archingtrees and long aisles of shadows, faded from her sight.instead, she saw the kingsport harbor of nearly a century agone.

out of the mist came slowly a greatfrigate, brilliant with "the meteor flag of england." behind her was another, with a still,heroic form, wrapped in his own starry flag, lying on the quarter deck--thegallant lawrence. time's finger had turned back his pages,and that was the shannon sailing triumphant up the bay with the chesapeake as herprize. "come back, anne shirley--come back,"laughed philippa, pulling her arm. "you're a hundred years away from us.come back." anne came back with a sigh; her eyes wereshining softly.

"i've always loved that old story," shesaid, "and although the english won that victory, i think it was because of thebrave, defeated commander i love it. this grave seems to bring it so near andmake it so real. this poor little middy was only eighteen.he 'died of desperate wounds received in gallant action'--so reads his epitaph. it is such as a soldier might wish for."before she turned away, anne unpinned the little cluster of purple pansies she woreand dropped it softly on the grave of the boy who had perished in the great sea-duel. "well, what do you think of our newfriend?" asked priscilla, when phil had

left them."i like her. there is something very lovable about her,in spite of all her nonsense. i believe, as she says herself, that sheisn't half as silly as she sounds. she's a dear, kissable baby--and i don'tknow that she'll ever really grow up." "i like her, too," said priscilla,decidedly. "she talks as much about boys as rubygillis does. but it always enrages or sickens me to hearruby, whereas i just wanted to laugh good- naturedly at phil. now, what is the why of that?""there is a difference," said anne

meditatively."i think it's because ruby is really so conscious of boys. she plays at love and love-making.besides, you feel, when she is boasting of her beaux that she is doing it to rub itwell into you that you haven't half so many. now, when phil talks of her beaux it soundsas if she was just speaking of chums. she really looks upon boys as goodcomrades, and she is pleased when she has dozens of them tagging round, simplybecause she likes to be popular and to be thought popular.

even alex and alonzo--i'll never be able tothink of those two names separately after this--are to her just two playfellows whowant her to play with them all their lives. i'm glad we met her, and i'm glad we wentto old st. john's. i believe i've put forth a tiny soul-rootinto kingsport soil this afternoon. i hope so. i hate to feel transplanted." chapter vletters from home for the next three weeks anne and priscillacontinued to feel as strangers in a strange land.

then, suddenly, everything seemed to fallinto focus--redmond, professors, classes, students, studies, social doings.life became homogeneous again, instead of being made up of detached fragments. the freshmen, instead of being a collectionof unrelated individuals, found themselves a class, with a class spirit, a class yell,class interests, class antipathies and class ambitions. they won the day in the annual "arts rush"against the sophomores, and thereby gained the respect of all the classes, and anenormous, confidence-giving opinion of themselves.

for three years the sophomores had won inthe "rush"; that the victory of this year perched upon the freshmen's banner wasattributed to the strategic generalship of gilbert blythe, who marshalled the campaign and originated certain new tactics, whichdemoralized the sophs and swept the freshmen to triumph. as a reward of merit he was electedpresident of the freshman class, a position of honor and responsibility--from a freshpoint of view, at least--coveted by many. he was also invited to join the "lambs"--redmondese for lamba theta--a compliment rarely paid to a freshman.

as a preparatory initiation ordeal he hadto parade the principal business streets of kingsport for a whole day wearing asunbonnet and a voluminous kitchen apron of gaudily flowered calico. this he did cheerfully, doffing hissunbonnet with courtly grace when he met ladies of his acquaintance. charlie sloane, who had not been asked tojoin the lambs, told anne he did not see how blythe could do it, and he, for hispart, could never humiliate himself so. "fancy charlie sloane in a 'caliker' apronand a 'sunbunnit,'" giggled priscilla. "he'd look exactly like his old grandmothersloane.

gilbert, now, looked as much like a man inthem as in his own proper habiliments." anne and priscilla found themselves in thethick of the social life of redmond. that this came about so speedily was due ingreat measure to philippa gordon. philippa was the daughter of a rich andwell-known man, and belonged to an old and exclusive "bluenose" family. this, combined with her beauty and charm--acharm acknowledged by all who met her-- promptly opened the gates of all cliques,clubs and classes in redmond to her; and where she went anne and priscilla went,too. phil "adored" anne and priscilla,especially anne.

she was a loyal little soul, crystal-freefrom any form of snobbishness. "love me, love my friends" seemed to be herunconscious motto. without effort, she took them with her intoher ever widening circle of acquaintanceship, and the two avonlea girlsfound their social pathway at redmond made very easy and pleasant for them, to the envy and wonderment of the otherfreshettes, who, lacking philippa's sponsorship, were doomed to remain ratheron the fringe of things during their first college year. to anne and priscilla, with their moreserious views of life, phil remained the

amusing, lovable baby she had seemed ontheir first meeting. yet, as she said herself, she had "heaps"of brains. when or where she found time to study was amystery, for she seemed always in demand for some kind of "fun," and her homeevenings were crowded with callers. she had all the "beaux" that heart coulddesire, for nine-tenths of the freshmen and a big fraction of all the other classeswere rivals for her smiles. she was naively delighted over this, andgleefully recounted each new conquest to anne and priscilla, with comments thatmight have made the unlucky lover's ears burn fiercely.

"alec and alonzo don't seem to have anyserious rival yet," remarked anne, teasingly."not one," agreed philippa. "i write them both every week and tell themall about my young men here. i'm sure it must amuse them.but, of course, the one i like best i can't get. gilbert blythe won't take any notice of me,except to look at me as if i were a nice little kitten he'd like to pat.too well i know the reason. i owe you a grudge, queen anne. i really ought to hate you and instead ilove you madly, and i'm miserable if i

don't see you every day.you're different from any girl i ever knew before. when you look at me in a certain way i feelwhat an insignificant, frivolous little beast i am, and i long to be better andwiser and stronger. and then i make good resolutions; but thefirst nice-looking mannie who comes my way knocks them all out of my head.isn't college life magnificent? it's so funny to think i hated it thatfirst day. but if i hadn't i might never got reallyacquainted with you. anne, please tell me over again that youlike me a little bit.

i yearn to hear it." "i like you a big bit--and i think you're adear, sweet, adorable, velvety, clawless, little--kitten," laughed anne, "but i don'tsee when you ever get time to learn your lessons." phil must have found time for she held herown in every class of her year. even the grumpy old professor ofmathematics, who detested coeds, and had bitterly opposed their admission toredmond, couldn't floor her. she led the freshettes everywhere, exceptin english, where anne shirley left her far behind.

anne herself found the studies of herfreshman year very easy, thanks in great part to the steady work she and gilbert hadput in during those two past years in avonlea. this left her more time for a social lifewhich she thoroughly enjoyed. but never for a moment did she forgetavonlea and the friends there. to her, the happiest moments in each weekwere those in which letters came from home. it was not until she had got her firstletters that she began to think she could ever like kingsport or feel at home there. before they came, avonlea had seemedthousands of miles away; those letters

brought it near and linked the old life tothe new so closely that they began to seem one and the same, instead of two hopelesslysegregated existences. the first batch contained six letters, fromjane andrews, ruby gillis, diana barry, marilla, mrs. lynde and davy. jane's was a copperplate production, withevery "t" nicely crossed and every "i" precisely dotted, and not an interestingsentence in it. she never mentioned the school, concerningwhich anne was avid to hear; she never answered one of the questions anne hadasked in her letter. but she told anne how many yards of laceshe had recently crocheted, and the kind of

weather they were having in avonlea, andhow she intended to have her new dress made, and the way she felt when her headached. ruby gillis wrote a gushing epistledeploring anne's absence, assuring her she was horribly missed in everything, askingwhat the redmond "fellows" were like, and filling the rest with accounts of her own harrowing experiences with her numerousadmirers. it was a silly, harmless letter, and annewould have laughed over it had it not been for the postscript. "gilbert seems to be enjoying redmond,judging from his letters," wrote ruby.

"i don't think charlie is so stuck on it."so gilbert was writing to ruby! very well. he had a perfect right to, of course.only--!! anne did not know that ruby had written thefirst letter and that gilbert had answered it from mere courtesy. she tossed ruby's letter asidecontemptuously. but it took all diana's breezy, newsy,delightful epistle to banish the sting of ruby's postscript. diana's letter contained a little too muchfred, but was otherwise crowded and crossed

with items of interest, and anne almostfelt herself back in avonlea while reading it. marilla's was a rather prim and colorlessepistle, severely innocent of gossip or emotion. yet somehow it conveyed to anne a whiff ofthe wholesome, simple life at green gables, with its savor of ancient peace, and thesteadfast abiding love that was there for her. mrs. lynde's letter was full of churchnews. having broken up housekeeping, mrs. lyndehad more time than ever to devote to church

affairs and had flung herself into themheart and soul. she was at present much worked up over thepoor "supplies" they were having in the vacant avonlea pulpit."i don't believe any but fools enter the ministry nowadays," she wrote bitterly. "such candidates as they have sent us, andsuch stuff as they preach! half of it ain't true, and, what's worse,it ain't sound doctrine. the one we have now is the worst of thelot. he mostly takes a text and preaches aboutsomething else. and he says he doesn't believe all theheathen will be eternally lost.

the idea! if they won't all the money we've beengiving to foreign missions will be clean wasted, that's what! last sunday night he announced that nextsunday he'd preach on the axe-head that swam.i think he'd better confine himself to the bible and leave sensational subjects alone. things have come to a pretty pass if aminister can't find enough in holy writ to preach about, that's what.what church do you attend, anne? i hope you go regularly.

people are apt to get so careless aboutchurch-going away from home, and i understand college students are greatsinners in this respect. i'm told many of them actually study theirlessons on sunday. i hope you'll never sink that low, anne.remember how you were brought up. and be very careful what friends you make. you never know what sort of creatures arein them colleges. outwardly they may be as whited sepulchersand inwardly as ravening wolves, that's you'd better not have anything to say toany young man who isn't from the island. "i forgot to tell you what happened the daythe minister called here.

it was the funniest thing i ever saw. i said to marilla, 'if anne had been herewouldn't she have had a laugh?' even marilla laughed.you know he's a very short, fat little man with bow legs. well, that old pig of mr. harrison's--thebig, tall one--had wandered over here that day again and broke into the yard, and itgot into the back porch, unbeknowns to us, and it was there when the minister appearedin the doorway. it made one wild bolt to get out, but therewas nowhere to bolt to except between them bow legs.

so there it went, and, being as it was sobig and the minister so little, it took him clean off his feet and carried him away.his hat went one way and his cane another, just as marilla and i got to the door. i'll never forget the look of him.and that poor pig was near scared to death. i'll never be able to read that account inthe bible of the swine that rushed madly down the steep place into the sea withoutseeing mr. harrison's pig careering down the hill with that minister. i guess the pig thought he had the old boyon his back instead of inside of him. i was thankful the twins weren't about.

it wouldn't have been the right thing forthem to have seen a minister in such an undignified predicament.just before they got to the brook the minister jumped off or fell off. the pig rushed through the brook like madand up through the woods. marilla and i run down and helped theminister get up and brush his coat. he wasn't hurt, but he was mad. he seemed to hold marilla and meresponsible for it all, though we told him the pig didn't belong to us, and had beenpestering us all summer. besides, what did he come to the back doorfor?

you'd never have caught mr. allan doingthat. it'll be a long time before we get a manlike mr. allan. but it's an ill wind that blows no good.we've never seen hoof or hair of that pig since, and it's my belief we never will. "things is pretty quiet in avonlea.i don't find green gables as lonesome as i expected.i think i'll start another cotton warp quilt this winter. mrs. silas sloane has a handsome new apple-leaf pattern. "when i feel that i must have someexcitement i read the murder trials in that

boston paper my niece sends me. i never used to do it, but they're realinteresting. the states must be an awful place.i hope you'll never go there, anne. but the way girls roam over the earth nowis something terrible. it always makes me think of satan in thebook of job, going to and fro and walking up and down. i don't believe the lord ever intended it,that's what. "davy has been pretty good since you wentaway. one day he was bad and marilla punished himby making him wear dora's apron all day,

and then he went and cut all dora's apronsup. i spanked him for that and then he went andchased my rooster to death. "the macphersons have moved down to myplace. she's a great housekeeper and veryparticular. she's rooted all my june lilies up becauseshe says they make a garden look so untidy. thomas set them lilies out when we weremarried. her husband seems a nice sort of a man, butshe can't get over being an old maid, that's what. "don't study too hard, and be sure and putyour winter underclothes on as soon as the

weather gets cool. marilla worries a lot about you, but i tellher you've got a lot more sense than i ever thought you would have at one time, andthat you'll be all right." davy's letter plunged into a grievance atthe start. "dear anne, please write and tell marillanot to tie me to the rale of the bridge when i go fishing the boys make fun of mewhen she does. its awful lonesome here without you butgrate fun in school. jane andrews is crosser than you.i scared mrs. lynde with a jacky lantern last nite.

she was offel mad and she was mad cause ichased her old rooster round the yard till he fell down ded.i didn't mean to make him fall down ded. what made him die, anne, i want to know.mrs. lynde threw him into the pig pen she mite of sold him to mr. blair. mr. blair isgiving 50 sense apeace for good ded roosters now. i herd mrs. lynde asking the minister topray for her. what did she do that was so bad, anne, iwant to know. i've got a kite with a magnificent tail,anne. milty bolter told me a grate story inschool yesterday. it is troo. old joe mosey

and leon were playing cards one nite lastweek in the woods. the cards were on a stump and a big blackman bigger than the trees come along and grabbed the cards and the stump anddisapered with a noys like thunder. ill bet they were skared. milty says the black man was the old harry.was he, anne, i want to know. mr. kimball over at spenservale is verysick and will have to go to the hospitable. please excuse me while i ask marilla ifthats spelled rite. marilla says its the silem he has to go tonot the other place. he thinks he has a snake inside of him.whats it like to have a snake inside of

you, anne. i want to know. mrs. lawrence bell is sickto. mrs. lynde says that all that is the matter with her is that she thinks too muchabout her insides." "i wonder," said anne, as she folded up herletters, "what mrs. lynde would think of philippa." chapter viin the park "what are you going to do with yourselvestoday, girls?" asked philippa, popping into anne's room one saturday afternoon."we are going for a walk in the park," answered anne.

"i ought to stay in and finish my blouse.but i couldn't sew on a day like this. there's something in the air that gets intomy blood and makes a sort of glory in my soul. my fingers would twitch and i'd sew acrooked seam. so it's ho for the park and the pines.""does 'we' include any one but yourself and priscilla?" "yes, it includes gilbert and charlie, andwe'll be very glad if it will include you, also." "but," said philippa dolefully, "if i goi'll have to be gooseberry, and that will

be a new experience for philippa gordon.""well, new experiences are broadening. come along, and you'll be able tosympathize with all poor souls who have to play gooseberry often.but where are all the victims?" "oh, i was tired of them all and simplycouldn't be bothered with any of them today.besides, i've been feeling a little blue-- just a pale, elusive azure. it isn't serious enough for anythingdarker. i wrote alec and alonzo last week.i put the letters into envelopes and addressed them, but i didn't seal them up.

that evening something funny happened.that is, alec would think it funny, but alonzo wouldn't be likely to. i was in a hurry, so i snatched alec'sletter--as i thought--out of the envelope and scribbled down a postscript.then i mailed both letters. i got alonzo's reply this morning. girls, i had put that postscript to hisletter and he was furious. of course he'll get over it--and i don'tcare if he doesn't--but it spoiled my day. so i thought i'd come to you darlings toget cheered up. after the football season opens i won'thave any spare saturday afternoons.

i adore football. i've got the most gorgeous cap and sweaterstriped in redmond colors to wear to the games.to be sure, a little way off i'll look like a walking barber's pole. do you know that that gilbert of yours hasbeen elected captain of the freshman football team?" "yes, he told us so last evening," saidpriscilla, seeing that outraged anne would not answer."he and charlie were down. we knew they were coming, so wepainstakingly put out of sight or out of

reach all miss ada's cushions. that very elaborate one with the raisedembroidery i dropped on the floor in the corner behind the chair it was on.i thought it would be safe there. but would you believe it? charlie sloane made for that chair, noticedthe cushion behind it, solemnly fished it up, and sat on it the whole evening.such a wreck of a cushion as it was! poor miss ada asked me today, stillsmiling, but oh, so reproachfully, why i had allowed it to be sat upon. i told her i hadn't--that it was a matterof predestination coupled with inveterate

sloanishness and i wasn't a match for bothcombined." "miss ada's cushions are really getting onmy nerves," said anne. "she finished two new ones last week,stuffed and embroidered within an inch of their lives. there being absolutely no other cushionlessplace to put them she stood them up against the wall on the stair landing. they topple over half the time and if wecome up or down the stairs in the dark we fall over them. last sunday, when dr. davis prayed for allthose exposed to the perils of the sea, i

added in thought 'and for all those wholive in houses where cushions are loved not wisely but too well!' there! we're ready, and i see the boyscoming through old st. john's. do you cast in your lot with us, phil?""i'll go, if i can walk with priscilla and charlie. that will be a bearable degree ofgooseberry. that gilbert of yours is a darling, anne,but why does he go around so much with goggle-eyes?" anne stiffened.she had no great liking for charlie sloane;

but he was of avonlea, so no outsider hadany business to laugh at him. "charlie and gilbert have always beenfriends," she said coldly. "charlie is a nice boy.he's not to blame for his eyes." "don't tell me that! he is!he must have done something dreadful in a previous existence to be punished with sucheyes. pris and i are going to have such sportwith him this afternoon. we'll make fun of him to his face and he'llnever know it." doubtless, "the abandoned p's," as annecalled them, did carry out their amiable

intentions. but sloane was blissfully ignorant; hethought he was quite a fine fellow to be walking with two such coeds, especiallyphilippa gordon, the class beauty and belle. it must surely impress anne.she would see that some people appreciated him at his real value. gilbert and anne loitered a little behindthe others, enjoying the calm, still beauty of the autumn afternoon under the pines ofthe park, on the road that climbed and twisted round the harbor shore.

"the silence here is like a prayer, isn'tit?" said anne, her face upturned to the shining sky."how i love the pines! they seem to strike their roots deep intothe romance of all the ages. it is so comforting to creep away now andthen for a good talk with them. i always feel so happy out here." "'and so in mountain solitudes o'ertaken asby some spell divine, their cares drop from them like the needles shaken from out thegusty pine,'" quoted gilbert."they make our little ambitions seem rather petty, don't they, anne?"

"i think, if ever any great sorrow came tome, i would come to the pines for comfort," said anne dreamily. "i hope no great sorrow ever will come toyou, anne," said gilbert, who could not connect the idea of sorrow with the vivid,joyous creature beside him, unwitting that those who can soar to the highest heights can also plunge to the deepest depths, andthat the natures which enjoy most keenly are those which also suffer most sharply."but there must--sometime," mused anne. "life seems like a cup of glory held to mylips just now. but there must be some bitterness in it--there is in every cup.

i shall taste mine some day. well, i hope i shall be strong and brave tomeet it. and i hope it won't be through my own faultthat it will come. do you remember what dr. davis said lastsunday evening--that the sorrows god sent us brought comfort and strength with them,while the sorrows we brought on ourselves, through folly or wickedness, were by farthe hardest to bear? but we mustn't talk of sorrow on anafternoon like this. it's meant for the sheer joy of living,isn't it?" "if i had my way i'd shut everything out ofyour life but happiness and pleasure,

anne," said gilbert in the tone that meant"danger ahead." "then you would be very unwise," rejoinedanne hastily. "i'm sure no life can be properly developedand rounded out without some trial and sorrow--though i suppose it is only when weare pretty comfortable that we admit it. come--the others have got to the pavilionand are beckoning to us." they all sat down in the little pavilion towatch an autumn sunset of deep red fire and pallid gold. to their left lay kingsport, its roofs andspires dim in their shroud of violet smoke. to their right lay the harbor, taking ontints of rose and copper as it stretched

out into the sunset. before them the water shimmered, satinsmooth and silver gray, and beyond, clean shaven william's island loomed out of themist, guarding the town like a sturdy bulldog. its lighthouse beacon flared through themist like a baleful star, and was answered by another in the far horizon."did you ever see such a strong-looking place?" asked philippa. "i don't want william's island especially,but i'm sure i couldn't get it if i did. look at that sentry on the summit of thefort, right beside the flag.

doesn't he look as if he had stepped out ofa romance?" "speaking of romance," said priscilla,"we've been looking for heather--but, of course, we couldn't find any. it's too late in the season, i suppose.""heather!" exclaimed anne. "heather doesn't grow in america, does it?" "there are just two patches of it in thewhole continent," said phil, "one right here in the park, and one somewhere else innova scotia, i forget where. the famous highland regiment, the blackwatch, camped here one year, and, when the men shook out the straw of their beds inthe spring, some seeds of heather took

root." "oh, how delightful!" said enchanted anne."let's go home around by spofford avenue," suggested gilbert."we can see all 'the handsome houses where the wealthy nobles dwell.' spofford avenue is the finest residentialstreet in kingsport. nobody can build on it unless he's amillionaire." "oh, do," said phil. "there's a perfectly killing little place iwant to show you, anne. it wasn't built by a millionaire.

it's the first place after you leave thepark, and must have grown while spofford avenue was still a country road.it did grow--it wasn't built! i don't care for the houses on the avenue. they're too brand new and plateglassy.but this little spot is a dream--and its name--but wait till you see it."they saw it as they walked up the pine- fringed hill from the park. just on the crest, where spofford avenuepetered out into a plain road, was a little white frame house with groups of pines oneither side of it, stretching their arms protectingly over its low roof.

it was covered with red and gold vines,through which its green-shuttered windows peeped.before it was a tiny garden, surrounded by a low stone wall. october though it was, the garden was stillvery sweet with dear, old-fashioned, unworldly flowers and shrubs--sweet may,southern-wood, lemon verbena, alyssum, petunias, marigolds and chrysanthemums. a tiny brick wall, in herring-bone pattern,led from the gate to the front porch. the whole place might have beentransplanted from some remote country village; yet there was something about itthat made its nearest neighbor, the big

lawn-encircled palace of a tobacco king, look exceedingly crude and showy and ill-bred by contrast. as phil said, it was the difference betweenbeing born and being made. "it's the dearest place i ever saw," saidanne delightedly. "it gives me one of my old, delightfulfunny aches. it's dearer and quainter than even misslavendar's stone house." "it's the name i want you to noticeespecially," said phil. "look--in white letters, around the archwayover the gate. 'patty's place.'isn't that killing?

especially on this avenue of pinehursts andelmwolds and cedarcrofts? 'patty's place,' if you please!i adore it." "have you any idea who patty is?" askedpriscilla. "patty spofford is the name of the old ladywho owns it, i've discovered. she lives there with her niece, and they'velived there for hundreds of years, more or less--maybe a little less, anne.exaggeration is merely a flight of poetic fancy. i understand that wealthy folk have triedto buy the lot time and again--it's really worth a small fortune now, you know--but'patty' won't sell upon any consideration.

and there's an apple orchard behind thehouse in place of a back yard--you'll see it when we get a little past--a real appleorchard on spofford avenue!" "i'm going to dream about 'patty's place'tonight," said anne. "why, i feel as if i belonged to it.i wonder if, by any chance, we'll ever see the inside of it." "it isn't likely," said priscilla.anne smiled mysteriously. "no, it isn't likely.but i believe it will happen. i have a queer, creepy, crawly feeling--youcan call it a presentiment, if you like-- that 'patty's place' and i are going to bebetter acquainted yet."

chapter viihome again those first three weeks at redmond hadseemed long; but the rest of the term flew by on wings of wind. before they realized it the redmondstudents found themselves in the grind of christmas examinations, emerging therefrommore or less triumphantly. the honor of leading in the freshmanclasses fluctuated between anne, gilbert and philippa; priscilla did very well;charlie sloane scraped through respectably, and comported himself as complacently as ifhe had led in everything. "i can't really believe that this timetomorrow i'll be in green gables," said

anne on the night before departure. "but i shall be.and you, phil, will be in bolingbroke with alec and alonzo.""i'm longing to see them," admitted phil, between the chocolate she was nibbling. "they really are such dear boys, you know.there's to be no end of dances and drives and general jamborees.i shall never forgive you, queen anne, for not coming home with me for the holidays." "'never' means three days with you, phil.it was dear of you to ask me--and i'd love to go to bolingbroke some day.but i can't go this year--i must go home.

you don't know how my heart longs for it." "you won't have much of a time," said philscornfully. "there'll be one or two quilting parties,i suppose; and all the old gossips will talk you over to your face and behind your back. you'll die of lonesomeness, child.""in avonlea?" said anne, highly amused. "now, if you'd come with me you'd have aperfectly gorgeous time. bolingbroke would go wild over you, queenanne--your hair and your style and, oh, everything!you're so different. you'd be such a success--and i would baskin reflected glory--'not the rose but near

the rose.'do come, after all, anne." "your picture of social triumphs is quitefascinating, phil, but i'll paint one to offset it. i'm going home to an old country farmhouse,once green, rather faded now, set among leafless apple orchards. there is a brook below and a december firwood beyond, where i've heard harps swept by the fingers of rain and wind.there is a pond nearby that will be gray and brooding now. there will be two oldish ladies in thehouse, one tall and thin, one short and

fat; and there will be two twins, one aperfect model, the other what mrs. lynde calls a 'holy terror.' there will be a little room upstairs overthe porch, where old dreams hang thick, and a big, fat, glorious feather bed which willalmost seem the height of luxury after a boardinghouse mattress. how do you like my picture, phil?""it seems a very dull one," said phil, with a grimace."oh, but i've left out the transforming thing," said anne softly. "there'll be love there, phil--faithful,tender love, such as i'll never find

anywhere else in the world--love that'swaiting for me. that makes my picture a masterpiece,doesn't it, even if the colors are not very brilliant?" phil silently got up, tossed her box ofchocolates away, went up to anne, and put her arms about her."anne, i wish i was like you," she said soberly. diana met anne at the carmody station thenext night, and they drove home together under silent, star-sown depths of sky.green gables had a very festal appearance as they drove up the lane.

there was a light in every window, the glowbreaking out through the darkness like flame-red blossoms swung against the darkbackground of the haunted wood. and in the yard was a brave bonfire withtwo gay little figures dancing around it, one of which gave an unearthly yell as thebuggy turned in under the poplars. "davy means that for an indian war-whoop,"said diana. "mr. harrison's hired boy taught it to him,and he's been practicing it up to welcome you with. mrs. lynde says it has worn her nerves to afrazzle. he creeps up behind her, you know, and thenlets go.

he was determined to have a bonfire foryou, too. he's been piling up branches for afortnight and pestering marilla to be let pour some kerosene oil over it beforesetting it on fire. i guess she did, by the smell, though mrs.lynde said up to the last that davy would blow himself and everybody else up if hewas let." anne was out of the buggy by this time, anddavy was rapturously hugging her knees, while even dora was clinging to her hand."isn't that a bully bonfire, anne? just let me show you how to poke it--seethe sparks? i did it for you, anne, 'cause i was soglad you were coming home."

the kitchen door opened and marilla's spareform darkened against the inner light. she preferred to meet anne in the shadows,for she was horribly afraid that she was going to cry with joy--she, stern,repressed marilla, who thought all display of deep emotion unseemly. mrs. lynde was behind her, sonsy, kindly,matronly, as of yore. the love that anne had told phil waswaiting for her surrounded her and enfolded her with its blessing and its sweetness. nothing, after all, could compare with oldties, old friends, and old green gables! how starry anne's eyes were as they satdown to the loaded supper table, how pink

her cheeks, how silver-clear her laughter! and diana was going to stay all night, too.how like the dear old times it was! and the rose-bud tea-set graced the table!with marilla the force of nature could no further go. "i suppose you and diana will now proceedto talk all night," said marilla sarcastically, as the girls went upstairs.marilla was always sarcastic after any self-betrayal. "yes," agreed anne gaily, "but i'm going toput davy to bed first. he insists on that.""you bet," said davy, as they went along

the hall. "i want somebody to say my prayers toagain. it's no fun saying them alone.""you don't say them alone, davy. god is always with you to hear you." "well, i can't see him," objected davy."i want to pray to somebody i can see, but i won't say them to mrs. lynde or marilla,there now!" nevertheless, when davy was garbed in hisgray flannel nighty, he did not seem in a hurry to begin.he stood before anne, shuffling one bare foot over the other, and looked undecided.

"come, dear, kneel down," said anne.davy came and buried his head in anne's lap, but he did not kneel down."anne," he said in a muffled voice. "i don't feel like praying after all. i haven't felt like it for a week now.i--i didn't pray last night nor the night before.""why not, davy?" asked anne gently. "you--you won't be mad if i tell you?"implored davy. anne lifted the little gray-flannelled bodyon her knee and cuddled his head on her arm. "do i ever get 'mad' when you tell methings, davy?"

"no-o-o, you never do.but you get sorry, and that's worse. you'll be awful sorry when i tell you this,anne--and you'll be 'shamed of me, i s'pose.""have you done something naughty, davy, and is that why you can't say your prayers?" "no, i haven't done anything naughty--yet.but i want to do it." "what is it, davy?""i--i want to say a bad word, anne," blurted out davy, with a desperate effort. "i heard mr. harrison's hired boy say itone day last week, and ever since i've been wanting to say it all the time--even wheni'm saying my prayers."

"say it then, davy." davy lifted his flushed face in amazement."but, anne, it's an awful bad word." "say it!" davy gave her another incredulous look,then in a low voice he said the dreadful word.the next minute his face was burrowing against her. "oh, anne, i'll never say it again--never.i'll never want to say it again. i knew it was bad, but i didn't s'pose itwas so--so--i didn't s'pose it was like that."

"no, i don't think you'll ever want to sayit again, davy--or think it, either. and i wouldn't go about much with mr.harrison's hired boy if i were you." "he can make bully war-whoops," said davy alittle regretfully. "but you don't want your mind filled withbad words, do you, davy--words that will poison it and drive out all that is goodand manly?" "no," said davy, owl-eyed withintrospection. "then don't go with those people who usethem. and now do you feel as if you could sayyour prayers, davy?" "oh, yes," said davy, eagerly wrigglingdown on his knees, "i can say them now all

right. i ain't scared now to say 'if i should diebefore i wake,' like i was when i was wanting to say that word." probably anne and diana did empty out theirsouls to each other that night, but no record of their confidences has beenpreserved. they both looked as fresh and bright-eyedat breakfast as only youth can look after unlawful hours of revelry and confession. there had been no snow up to this time, butas diana crossed the old log bridge on her homeward way the white flakes werebeginning to flutter down over the fields

and woods, russet and gray in theirdreamless sleep. soon the far-away slopes and hills were dimand wraith-like through their gauzy scarfing, as if pale autumn had flung amisty bridal veil over her hair and was waiting for her wintry bridegroom. so they had a white christmas after all,and a very pleasant day it was. in the forenoon letters and gifts came frommiss lavendar and paul; anne opened them in the cheerful green gables kitchen, whichwas filled with what davy, sniffing in ecstasy, called "pretty smells." "miss lavendar and mr. irving are settledin their new home now," reported anne.

"i am sure miss lavendar is perfectlyhappy--i know it by the general tone of her letter--but there's a note from charlottathe fourth. she doesn't like boston at all, and she isfearfully homesick. miss lavendar wants me to go through toecho lodge some day while i'm home and light a fire to air it, and see that thecushions aren't getting moldy. i think i'll get diana to go over with menext week, and we can spend the evening with theodora dix.i want to see theodora. by the way, is ludovic speed still going tosee her?" "they say so," said marilla, "and he'slikely to continue it.

folks have given up expecting that thatcourtship will ever arrive anywhere." "i'd hurry him up a bit, if i was theodora,that's what," said mrs. lynde. and there is not the slightest doubt butthat she would. there was also a characteristic scrawl fromphilippa, full of alec and alonzo, what they said and what they did, and how theylooked when they saw her. "but i can't make up my mind yet which tomarry," wrote phil. "i do wish you had come with me to decidefor me. some one will have to. when i saw alec my heart gave a great thumpand i thought, 'he might be the right one.'

and then, when alonzo came, thump went myheart again. so that's no guide, though it should be,according to all the novels i've ever read. now, anne, your heart wouldn't thump foranybody but the genuine prince charming, would it? there must be something radically wrongwith mine. but i'm having a perfectly gorgeous time.how i wish you were here! it's snowing today, and i'm rapturous. i was so afraid we'd have a green christmasand i loathe them. you know, when christmas is a dirty grayey-browney affair, looking as if it had been

left over a hundred years ago and had beenin soak ever since, it is called a green christmas! don't ask me why.as lord dundreary says, 'there are thome thingth no fellow can underthtand.' "anne, did you ever get on a street car andthen discover that you hadn't any money with you to pay your fare?i did, the other day. it's quite awful. i had a nickel with me when i got on thecar. i thought it was in the left pocket of mycoat.

when i got settled down comfortably i feltfor it. it wasn't there.i had a cold chill. i felt in the other pocket. not there.i had another chill. then i felt in a little inside pocket.all in vain. i had two chills at once. "i took off my gloves, laid them on theseat, and went over all my pockets again. it was not there.i stood up and shook myself, and then looked on the floor.

the car was full of people, who were goinghome from the opera, and they all stared at me, but i was past caring for a littlething like that. "but i could not find my fare. i concluded i must have put it in my mouthand swallowed it inadvertently. "i didn't know what to do.would the conductor, i wondered, stop the car and put me off in ignominy and shame? was it possible that i could convince himthat i was merely the victim of my own absentmindedness, and not an unprincipledcreature trying to obtain a ride upon false pretenses?

how i wished that alec or alonzo werethere. but they weren't because i wanted them.if i hadn't wanted them they would have been there by the dozen. and i couldn't decide what to say to theconductor when he came around. as soon as i got one sentence ofexplanation mapped out in my mind i felt nobody could believe it and i must composeanother. it seemed there was nothing to do but trustin providence, and for all the comfort that gave me i might as well have been the oldlady who, when told by the captain during a storm that she must put her trust in the

almighty exclaimed, 'oh, captain, is it asbad as that?' "just at the conventional moment, when allhope had fled, and the conductor was holding out his box to the passenger nextto me, i suddenly remembered where i had put that wretched coin of the realm. i hadn't swallowed it after all.i meekly fished it out of the index finger of my glove and poked it in the box.i smiled at everybody and felt that it was a beautiful world." the visit to echo lodge was not the leastpleasant of many pleasant holiday outings. anne and diana went back to it by the oldway of the beech woods, carrying a lunch

basket with them. echo lodge, which had been closed eversince miss lavendar's wedding, was briefly thrown open to wind and sunshine once more,and firelight glimmered again in the little rooms. the perfume of miss lavendar's rose bowlstill filled the air. it was hardly possible to believe that misslavendar would not come tripping in presently, with her brown eyes a-star withwelcome, and that charlotta the fourth, blue of bow and wide of smile, would notpop through the door. paul, too, seemed hovering around, with hisfairy fancies.

"it really makes me feel a little bit likea ghost revisiting the old time glimpses of the moon," laughed anne."let's go out and see if the echoes are at home. bring the old horn.it is still behind the kitchen door." the echoes were at home, over the whiteriver, as silver-clear and multitudinous as ever; and when they had ceased to answerthe girls locked up echo lodge again and went away in the perfect half hour that follows the rose and saffron of a wintersunset. chapter viiianne's first proposal

the old year did not slip away in a greentwilight, with a pinky-yellow sunset. instead, it went out with a wild, whitebluster and blow. it was one of the nights when the storm-wind hurtles over the frozen meadows and black hollows, and moans around the eaveslike a lost creature, and drives the snow sharply against the shaking panes. "just the sort of night people like tocuddle down between their blankets and count their mercies," said anne to janeandrews, who had come up to spend the afternoon and stay all night. but when they were cuddled between theirblankets, in anne's little porch room, it

was not her mercies of which jane wasthinking. "anne," she said very solemnly, "i want totell you something. may i" anne was feeling rather sleepy after theparty ruby gillis had given the night she would much rather have gone to sleepthan listen to jane's confidences, which she was sure would bore her.she had no prophetic inkling of what was coming. probably jane was engaged, too; rumoraverred that ruby gillis was engaged to the spencervale schoolteacher, about whom allthe girls were said to be quite wild.

"i'll soon be the only fancy-free maiden ofour old quartet," thought anne, drowsily. aloud she said, "of course.""anne," said jane, still more solemnly, "what do you think of my brother billy?" anne gasped over this unexpected question,and floundered helplessly in her thoughts. goodness, what did she think of billyandrews? she had never thought anything about him--round-faced, stupid, perpetually smiling, good-natured billy andrews.did anybody ever think about billy andrews? "i--i don't understand, jane," shestammered. "what do you mean--exactly?""do you like billy?" asked jane bluntly.

"why--why--yes, i like him, of course,"gasped anne, wondering if she were telling the literal truth.certainly she did not dislike billy. but could the indifferent tolerance withwhich she regarded him, when he happened to be in her range of vision, be consideredpositive enough for liking? what was jane trying to elucidate? "would you like him for a husband?" askedjane calmly. "a husband!" anne had been sitting up in bed, the betterto wrestle with the problem of her exact opinion of billy andrews.now she fell flatly back on her pillows,

the very breath gone out of her. "whose husband?""yours, of course," answered jane. "billy wants to marry you. he's always been crazy about you--and nowfather has given him the upper farm in his own name and there's nothing to prevent himfrom getting married. but he's so shy he couldn't ask you himselfif you'd have him, so he got me to do it. i'd rather not have, but he gave me nopeace till i said i would, if i got a good chance. what do you think about it, anne?"was it a dream?

was it one of those nightmare things inwhich you find yourself engaged or married to some one you hate or don't know, withoutthe slightest idea how it ever came about? no, she, anne shirley, was lying there,wide awake, in her own bed, and jane andrews was beside her, calmly proposingfor her brother billy. anne did not know whether she wanted towrithe or laugh; but she could do neither, for jane's feelings must not be hurt."i--i couldn't marry bill, you know, jane," she managed to gasp. "why, such an idea never occurred to me--never!" "i don't suppose it did," agreed jane."billy has always been far too shy to think

of courting. but you might think it over, anne.billy is a good fellow. i must say that, if he is my brother.he has no bad habits and he's a great worker, and you can depend on him. 'a bird in the hand is worth two in thebush.' he told me to tell you he'd be quitewilling to wait till you got through college, if you insisted, though he'drather get married this spring before the planting begins. he'd always be very good to you, i'm sure,and you know, anne, i'd love to have you

for a sister.""i can't marry billy," said anne decidedly. she had recovered her wits, and was evenfeeling a little angry. it was all so ridiculous."there is no use thinking of it, jane. i don't care anything for him in that way,and you must tell him so." "well, i didn't suppose you would," saidjane with a resigned sigh, feeling that she had done her best. "i told billy i didn't believe it was a bitof use to ask you, but he insisted. well, you've made your decision, anne, andi hope you won't regret it." jane spoke rather coldly.

she had been perfectly sure that theenamored billy had no chance at all of inducing anne to marry him. nevertheless, she felt a little resentmentthat anne shirley, who was, after all, merely an adopted orphan, without kith orkin, should refuse her brother--one of the avonlea andrews. well, pride sometimes goes before a fall,jane reflected ominously. anne permitted herself to smile in thedarkness over the idea that she might ever regret not marrying billy andrews. "i hope billy won't feel very badly overit," she said nicely.

jane made a movement as if she were tossingher head on her pillow. "oh, he won't break his heart. billy has too much good sense for that.he likes nettie blewett pretty well, too, and mother would rather he married her thanany one. she's such a good manager and saver. i think, when billy is once sure you won'thave him, he'll take nettie. please don't mention this to any one, willyou, anne?" "certainly not," said anne, who had nodesire whatever to publish abroad the fact that billy andrews wanted to marry her,preferring her, when all was said and done,

to nettie blewett. nettie blewett!"and now i suppose we'd better go to sleep," suggested jane. to sleep went jane easily and speedily;but, though very unlike macbeth in most respects, she had certainly contrived tomurder sleep for anne. that proposed-to damsel lay on a wakefulpillow until the wee sma's, but her meditations were far from being romantic. it was not, however, until the next morningthat she had an opportunity to indulge in a good laugh over the whole affair.

when jane had gone home--still with a hintof frost in voice and manner because anne had declined so ungratefully and decidedlythe honor of an alliance with the house of andrews--anne retreated to the porch room, shut the door, and had her laugh out atlast. "if i could only share the joke with someone!" she thought. "but i can't. diana is the only one i'd want to tell,and, even if i hadn't sworn secrecy to jane, i can't tell diana things now.she tells everything to fred--i know she does.

well, i've had my first proposal.i supposed it would come some day--but i certainly never thought it would be byproxy. it's awfully funny--and yet there's a stingin it, too, somehow." anne knew quite well wherein the stingconsisted, though she did not put it into words. she had had her secret dreams of the firsttime some one should ask her the great question. and it had, in those dreams, always beenvery romantic and beautiful: and the "some one" was to be very handsome and dark-eyedand distinguished-looking and eloquent,

whether he were prince charming to be enraptured with "yes," or one to whom aregretful, beautifully worded, but hopeless refusal must be given. if the latter, the refusal was to beexpressed so delicately that it would be next best thing to acceptance, and he wouldgo away, after kissing her hand, assuring her of his unalterable, life-long devotion. and it would always be a beautiful memory,to be proud of and a little sad about, also.and now, this thrilling experience had turned out to be merely grotesque.

billy andrews had got his sister to proposefor him because his father had given him the upper farm; and if anne wouldn't "havehim" nettie blewett would. there was romance for you, with avengeance! anne laughed--and then sighed.the bloom had been brushed from one little maiden dream. would the painful process go on untileverything became prosaic and hum-drum? chapter ixan unwelcome lover and a welcome friend the second term at redmond sped as quicklyas had the first--"actually whizzed away," philippa said.

anne enjoyed it thoroughly in all itsphases--the stimulating class rivalry, the making and deepening of new and helpfulfriendships, the gay little social stunts, the doings of the various societies of which she was a member, the widening ofhorizons and interests. she studied hard, for she had made up hermind to win the thorburn scholarship in english. this being won, meant that she could comeback to redmond the next year without trenching on marilla's small savings--something anne was determined she would not do.

gilbert, too, was in full chase after ascholarship, but found plenty of time for frequent calls at thirty-eight, st. john's. he was anne's escort at nearly all thecollege affairs, and she knew that their names were coupled in redmond gossip. anne raged over this but was helpless; shecould not cast an old friend like gilbert aside, especially when he had grownsuddenly wise and wary, as behooved him in the dangerous proximity of more than one redmond youth who would gladly have takenhis place by the side of the slender, red- haired coed, whose gray eyes were asalluring as stars of evening.

anne was never attended by the crowd ofwilling victims who hovered around philippa's conquering march through herfreshman year; but there was a lanky, brainy freshie, a jolly, little, round sophomore, and a tall, learned junior whoall liked to call at thirty-eight, st. john's, and talk over 'ologies and 'isms,as well as lighter subjects, with anne, in the becushioned parlor of that domicile. gilbert did not love any of them, and hewas exceedingly careful to give none of them the advantage over him by any untimelydisplay of his real feelings anne-ward. to her he had become again the boy-comradeof avonlea days, and as such could hold his

own against any smitten swain who had sofar entered the lists against him. as a companion, anne honestly acknowledgednobody could be so satisfactory as gilbert; she was very glad, so she told herself,that he had evidently dropped all nonsensical ideas--though she spentconsiderable time secretly wondering why. only one disagreeable incident marred thatwinter. charlie sloane, sitting bolt upright onmiss ada's most dearly beloved cushion, asked anne one night if she would promise"to become mrs. charlie sloane some day." coming after billy andrews' proxy effort,this was not quite the shock to anne's romantic sensibilities that it wouldotherwise have been; but it was certainly

another heart-rending disillusion. she was angry, too, for she felt that shehad never given charlie the slightest encouragement to suppose such a thingpossible. but what could you expect of a sloane, asmrs. rachel lynde would ask scornfully? charlie's whole attitude, tone, air, words,fairly reeked with sloanishness. "he was conferring a great honor--no doubtwhatever about that. and when anne, utterly insensible to thehonor, refused him, as delicately and considerately as she could--for even asloane had feelings which ought not to be unduly lacerated--sloanishness stillfurther betrayed itself.

charlie certainly did not take hisdismissal as anne's imaginary rejected suitors did. instead, he became angry, and showed it; hesaid two or three quite nasty things; anne's temper flashed up mutinously and sheretorted with a cutting little speech whose keenness pierced even charlie's protective sloanishness and reached the quick; hecaught up his hat and flung himself out of the house with a very red face; anne rushedupstairs, falling twice over miss ada's cushions on the way, and threw herself onher bed, in tears of humiliation and rage. had she actually stooped to quarrel with asloane?

was it possible anything charlie sloanecould say had power to make her angry? oh, this was degradation, indeed--worseeven than being the rival of nettie blewett! "i wish i need never see the horriblecreature again," she sobbed vindictively into her pillows. she could not avoid seeing him again, butthe outraged charlie took care that it should not be at very close quarters. miss ada's cushions were henceforth safefrom his depredations, and when he met anne on the street, or in redmond's halls, hisbow was icy in the extreme.

relations between these two old schoolmatescontinued to be thus strained for nearly a year! then charlie transferred his blightedaffections to a round, rosy, snub-nosed, blue-eyed, little sophomore who appreciatedthem as they deserved, whereupon he forgave anne and condescended to be civil to her again; in a patronizing manner intended toshow her just what she had lost. one day anne scurried excitedly intopriscilla's room. "read that," she cried, tossing priscilla aletter. "it's from stella--and she's coming toredmond next year--and what do you think of

her idea? i think it's a perfectly splendid one, ifwe can only carry it out. do you suppose we can, pris?" "i'll be better able to tell you when ifind out what it is," said priscilla, casting aside a greek lexicon and taking upstella's letter. stella maynard had been one of their chumsat queen's academy and had been teaching school ever since."but i'm going to give it up, anne dear," she wrote, "and go to college next year. as i took the third year at queen's i canenter the sophomore year.

i'm tired of teaching in a back countryschool. some day i'm going to write a treatise on'the trials of a country schoolmarm.' it will be a harrowing bit of realism. it seems to be the prevailing impressionthat we live in clover, and have nothing to do but draw our quarter's salary.my treatise shall tell the truth about us. why, if a week should pass without some onetelling me that i am doing easy work for big pay i would conclude that i might aswell order my ascension robe 'immediately and to onct.' 'well, you get your money easy,' some rate-payer will tell me, condescendingly.

'all you have to do is to sit there andhear lessons.' i used to argue the matter at first, buti'm wiser now. facts are stubborn things, but as some onehas wisely said, not half so stubborn as fallacies. so i only smile loftily now in eloquentsilence. why, i have nine grades in my school and ihave to teach a little of everything, from investigating the interiors of earthwormsto the study of the solar system. my youngest pupil is four--his mother sendshim to school to 'get him out of the way'-- and my oldest twenty--it 'suddenly struckhim' that it would be easier to go to

school and get an education than follow theplough any longer. in the wild effort to cram all sorts ofresearch into six hours a day i don't wonder if the children feel like the littleboy who was taken to see the biograph. 'i have to look for what's coming nextbefore i know what went last,' he complained.i feel like that myself. "and the letters i get, anne! tommy's mother writes me that tommy is notcoming on in arithmetic as fast as she would like. he is only in simple reduction yet, andjohnny johnson is in fractions, and johnny

isn't half as smart as her tommy, and shecan't understand it. and susy's father wants to know why susycan't write a letter without misspelling half the words, and dick's aunt wants me tochange his seat, because that bad brown boy he is sitting with is teaching him to saynaughty words. "as to the financial part--but i'll notbegin on that. those whom the gods wish to destroy theyfirst make country schoolmarms! "there, i feel better, after that growl.after all, i've enjoyed these past two but i'm coming to redmond."and now, anne, i've a little plan. you know how i loathe boarding.i've boarded for four years and i'm so

tired of it. i don't feel like enduring three years moreof it. "now, why can't you and priscilla and iclub together, rent a little house somewhere in kingsport, and boardourselves? it would be cheaper than any other way. of course, we would have to have ahousekeeper and i have one ready on the spot.you've heard me speak of aunt jamesina? she's the sweetest aunt that ever lived, inspite of her name. she can't help that!

she was called jamesina because her father,whose name was james, was drowned at sea a month before she was born.i always call her aunt jimsie. well, her only daughter has recentlymarried and gone to the foreign mission field.aunt jamesina is left alone in a great big house, and she is horribly lonesome. she will come to kingsport and keep housefor us if we want her, and i know you'll both love her.the more i think of the plan the more i like it. we could have such good, independent times."now, if you and priscilla agree to it,

wouldn't it be a good idea for you, who areon the spot, to look around and see if you can find a suitable house this spring? that would be better than leaving it tillthe fall. if you could get a furnished one so muchthe better, but if not, we can scare up a few sticks of finiture between us and oldfamily friends with attics. anyhow, decide as soon as you can and writeme, so that aunt jamesina will know what plans to make for next year.""i think it's a good idea," said priscilla. "so do i," agreed anne delightedly. "of course, we have a nice boardinghousehere, but, when all's said and done, a

boardinghouse isn't home.so let's go house-hunting at once, before exams come on." "i'm afraid it will be hard enough to get areally suitable house," warned priscilla. "don't expect too much, anne.nice houses in nice localities will probably be away beyond our means. we'll likely have to content ourselves witha shabby little place on some street whereon live people whom to know is to beunknown, and make life inside compensate for the outside." accordingly they went house-hunting, but tofind just what they wanted proved even

harder than priscilla had feared. houses there were galore, furnished andunfurnished; but one was too big, another too small; this one too expensive, that onetoo far from redmond. exams were on and over; the last week ofthe term came and still their "house o'dreams," as anne called it, remained acastle in the air. "we shall have to give up and wait till thefall, i suppose," said priscilla wearily, as they rambled through the park on one ofapril's darling days of breeze and blue, when the harbor was creaming and shimmering beneath the pearl-hued mists floating overit.

"we may find some shack to shelter us then;and if not, boardinghouses we shall have always with us." "i'm not going to worry about it just now,anyway, and spoil this lovely afternoon," said anne, gazing around her with delight. the fresh chill air was faintly chargedwith the aroma of pine balsam, and the sky above was crystal clear and blue--a greatinverted cup of blessing. "spring is singing in my blood today, andthe lure of april is abroad on the air. i'm seeing visions and dreaming dreams,pris. that's because the wind is from the west.

i do love the west wind.it sings of hope and gladness, doesn't it? when the east wind blows i always think ofsorrowful rain on the eaves and sad waves on a gray shore. when i get old i shall have rheumatism whenthe wind is east." "and isn't it jolly when you discard fursand winter garments for the first time and sally forth, like this, in spring attire?"laughed priscilla. "don't you feel as if you had been madeover new?" "everything is new in the spring," saidanne. "springs themselves are always so new, too.

no spring is ever just like any otherspring. it always has something of its own to beits own peculiar sweetness. see how green the grass is around thatlittle pond, and how the willow buds are bursting.""and exams are over and gone--the time of convocation will come soon--next wednesday. this day next week we'll be home.""i'm glad," said anne dreamily. "there are so many things i want to do. i want to sit on the back porch steps andfeel the breeze blowing down over mr. harrison's fields.i want to hunt ferns in the haunted wood

and gather violets in violet vale. do you remember the day of our goldenpicnic, priscilla? i want to hear the frogs singing and thepoplars whispering. but i've learned to love kingsport, too,and i'm glad i'm coming back next fall. if i hadn't won the thorburn i don'tbelieve i could have. i couldn't take any of marilla's littlehoard." "if we could only find a house!" sighedpriscilla. "look over there at kingsport, anne--houses, houses everywhere, and not one for us.""stop it, pris.

'the best is yet to be.' like the old roman, we'll find a house orbuild one. on a day like this there's no such word asfail in my bright lexicon." they lingered in the park until sunset,living in the amazing miracle and glory and wonder of the springtide; and they wenthome as usual, by way of spofford avenue, that they might have the delight of lookingat patty's place. "i feel as if something mysterious weregoing to happen right away--'by the pricking of my thumbs,'" said anne, as theywent up the slope. "it's a nice story-bookish feeling.

why--why--why!priscilla grant, look over there and tell me if it's true, or am i seein' things?"priscilla looked. anne's thumbs and eyes had not deceivedher. over the arched gateway of patty's placedangled a little, modest sign. it said "to let, furnished. inquire within.""priscilla," said anne, in a whisper, "do you suppose it's possible that we couldrent patty's place?" "no, i don't," averred priscilla. "it would be too good to be true.fairy tales don't happen nowadays.

i won't hope, anne.the disappointment would be too awful to bear. they're sure to want more for it than wecan afford. remember, it's on spofford avenue.""we must find out anyhow," said anne resolutely. "it's too late to call this evening, butwe'll come tomorrow. oh, pris, if we can get this darling spot! i've always felt that my fortunes werelinked with patty's place, ever since i saw it first."

chapter xpatty's place the next evening found them treadingresolutely the herring-bone walk through the tiny garden. the april wind was filling the pine treeswith its roundelay, and the grove was alive with robins--great, plump, saucy fellows,strutting along the paths. the girls rang rather timidly, and wereadmitted by a grim and ancient handmaiden. the door opened directly into a largeliving-room, where by a cheery little fire sat two other ladies, both of whom werealso grim and ancient. except that one looked to be about seventyand the other fifty, there seemed little

difference between them. each had amazingly big, light-blue eyesbehind steel-rimmed spectacles; each wore a cap and a gray shawl; each was knittingwithout haste and without rest; each rocked placidly and looked at the girls without speaking; and just behind each sat a largewhite china dog, with round green spots all over it, a green nose and green ears. those dogs captured anne's fancy on thespot; they seemed like the twin guardian deities of patty's place.for a few minutes nobody spoke. the girls were too nervous to find words,and neither the ancient ladies nor the

china dogs seemed conversationallyinclined. anne glanced about the room. what a dear place it was!another door opened out of it directly into the pine grove and the robins came boldlyup on the very step. the floor was spotted with round, braidedmats, such as marilla made at green gables, but which were considered out of dateeverywhere else, even in avonlea. and yet here they were on spofford avenue! a big, polished grandfather's clock tickedloudly and solemnly in a corner. there were delightful little cupboards overthe mantelpiece, behind whose glass doors

gleamed quaint bits of china. the walls were hung with old prints andsilhouettes. in one corner the stairs went up, and atthe first low turn was a long window with an inviting seat. it was all just as anne had known it mustbe. by this time the silence had grown toodreadful, and priscilla nudged anne to intimate that she must speak. "we--we--saw by your sign that this houseis to let," said anne faintly, addressing the older lady, who was evidently misspatty spofford.

"oh, yes," said miss patty. "i intended to take that sign down today.""then--then we are too late," said anne sorrowfully."you've let it to some one else?" "no, but we have decided not to let it atall." "oh, i'm so sorry," exclaimed anneimpulsively. "i love this place so. i did hope we could have got it."then did miss patty lay down her knitting, take off her specs, rub them, put them onagain, and for the first time look at anne as at a human being.

the other lady followed her example soperfectly that she might as well have been a reflection in a mirror."you love it," said miss patty with emphasis. "does that mean that you really love it?or that you merely like the looks of it? the girls nowadays indulge in suchexaggerated statements that one never can tell what they do mean. it wasn't so in my young days.then a girl did not say she loved turnips, in just the same tone as she might havesaid she loved her mother or her savior." anne's conscience bore her up.

"i really do love it," she said gently."i've loved it ever since i saw it last fall. my two college chums and i want to keephouse next year instead of boarding, so we are looking for a little place to rent; andwhen i saw that this house was to let i was so happy." "if you love it, you can have it," saidmiss patty. "maria and i decided today that we wouldnot let it after all, because we did not like any of the people who have wanted it. we don't have to let it.we can afford to go to europe even if we

don't let it. it would help us out, but not for gold willi let my home pass into the possession of such people as have come here and looked atit. you are different. i believe you do love it and will be goodto it. you can have it.""if--if we can afford to pay what you ask for it," hesitated anne. miss patty named the amount required.anne and priscilla looked at each other. priscilla shook her head."i'm afraid we can't afford quite so much,"

said anne, choking back her disappointment. "you see, we are only college girls and weare poor." "what were you thinking you could afford?"demanded miss patty, ceasing not to knit. anne named her amount. miss patty nodded gravely."that will do. as i told you, it is not strictly necessarythat we should let it at all. we are not rich, but we have enough to goto europe on. i have never been in europe in my life, andnever expected or wanted to go. but my niece there, maria spofford, hastaken a fancy to go.

now, you know a young person like mariacan't go globetrotting alone." "no--i--i suppose not," murmured anne,seeing that miss patty was quite solemnly in earnest."of course not. so i have to go along to look after her. i expect to enjoy it, too; i'm seventyyears old, but i'm not tired of living yet. i daresay i'd have gone to europe before ifthe idea had occurred to me. we shall be away for two years, perhapsthree. we sail in june and we shall send you thekey, and leave all in order for you to take possession when you choose.

we shall pack away a few things we prizeespecially, but all the rest will be left." "will you leave the china dogs?" asked annetimidly. "would you like me to?" "oh, indeed, yes.they are delightful." a pleased expression came into miss patty'sface. "i think a great deal of those dogs," shesaid proudly. "they are over a hundred years old, andthey have sat on either side of this fireplace ever since my brother aaronbrought them from london fifty years ago. spofford avenue was called after my brotheraaron."

"a fine man he was," said miss maria,speaking for the first time. "ah, you don't see the like of himnowadays." "he was a good uncle to you, maria," saidmiss patty, with evident emotion. "you do well to remember him." "i shall always remember him," said missmaria solemnly. "i can see him, this minute, standing therebefore that fire, with his hands under his coat-tails, beaming on us." miss maria took out her handkerchief andwiped her eyes; but miss patty came resolutely back from the regions ofsentiment to those of business.

"i shall leave the dogs where they are, ifyou will promise to be very careful of them," she said."their names are gog and magog. gog looks to the right and magog to theleft. and there's just one thing more.you don't object, i hope, to this house being called patty's place?" "no, indeed.we think that is one of the nicest things about it.""you have sense, i see," said miss patty in a tone of great satisfaction. "would you believe it?all the people who came here to rent the

house wanted to know if they couldn't takethe name off the gate during their occupation of it. i told them roundly that the name went withthe house. this has been patty's place ever since mybrother aaron left it to me in his will, and patty's place it shall remain until idie and maria dies. after that happens the next possessor cancall it any fool name he likes," concluded miss patty, much as she might have said,"after that--the deluge." "and now, wouldn't you like to go over thehouse and see it all before we consider the bargain made?"further exploration still further delighted

the girls. besides the big living-room, there was akitchen and a small bedroom downstairs. upstairs were three rooms, one large andtwo small. anne took an especial fancy to one of thesmall ones, looking out into the big pines, and hoped it would be hers. it was papered in pale blue and had alittle, old-timey toilet table with sconces for candles. there was a diamond-paned window with aseat under the blue muslin frills that would be a satisfying spot for studying ordreaming.

"it's all so delicious that i know we aregoing to wake up and find it a fleeting vision of the night," said priscilla asthey went away. "miss patty and miss maria are hardly suchstuff as dreams are made of," laughed anne. "can you fancy them 'globe-trotting'--especially in those shawls and caps?" "i suppose they'll take them off when theyreally begin to trot," said priscilla, "but i know they'll take their knitting withthem everywhere. they simply couldn't be parted from it. they will walk about westminster abbey andknit, i feel sure. meanwhile, anne, we shall be living inpatty's place--and on spofford avenue.

i feel like a millionairess even now." "i feel like one of the morning stars thatsang for joy," said anne. phil gordon crept into thirty-eight, st.john's, that night and flung herself on anne's bed. "girls, dear, i'm tired to death.i feel like the man without a country--or was it without a shadow?i forget which. anyway, i've been packing up." "and i suppose you are worn out because youcouldn't decide which things to pack first, or where to put them," laughed priscilla."e-zackly.

and when i had got everything jammed insomehow, and my landlady and her maid had both sat on it while i locked it, idiscovered i had packed a whole lot of things i wanted for convocation at the verybottom. i had to unlock the old thing and poke anddive into it for an hour before i fished out what i wanted. i would get hold of something that feltlike what i was looking for, and i'd yank it up, and it would be something else.no, anne, i did not swear." "i didn't say you did." "well, you looked it.but i admit my thoughts verged on the

profane.and i have such a cold in the head--i can do nothing but sniffle, sigh and sneeze. isn't that alliterative agony for you?queen anne, do say something to cheer me up." "remember that next thursday night, you'llbe back in the land of alec and alonzo," suggested anne.phil shook her head dolefully. "more alliteration. no, i don't want alec and alonzo when ihave a cold in the head. but what has happened you two?now that i look at you closely you seem all

lighted up with an internal iridescence. why, you're actually shining!what's up?" "we are going to live in patty's place nextwinter," said anne triumphantly. "live, mark you, not board! we've rented it, and stella maynard iscoming, and her aunt is going to keep house for us."phil bounced up, wiped her nose, and fell on her knees before anne. "girls--girls--let me come, too.oh, i'll be so good. if there's no room for me i'll sleep in thelittle doghouse in the orchard--i've seen

only let me come.""get up, you goose." "i won't stir off my marrow bones till youtell me i can live with you next winter." anne and priscilla looked at each other. then anne said slowly, "phil dear, we'dlove to have you. but we may as well speak plainly. i'm poor--pris is poor--stella maynard ispoor--our housekeeping will have to be very simple and our table plain.you'd have to live as we would. now, you are rich and your boardinghousefare attests the fact." "oh, what do i care for that?" demandedphil tragically.

"better a dinner of herbs where your chumsare than a stalled ox in a lonely boardinghouse.don't think i'm all stomach, girls. i'll be willing to live on bread and water--with just a leetle jam--if you'll let me come.""and then," continued anne, "there will be a good deal of work to be done. stella's aunt can't do it all.we all expect to have our chores to do. now, you--""toil not, neither do i spin," finished philippa. "but i'll learn to do things.you'll only have to show me once.

i can make my own bed to begin with.and remember that, though i can't cook, i can keep my temper. that's something.and i never growl about the weather. that's more.oh, please, please! i never wanted anything so much in my life--and this floor is awfully hard." "there's just one more thing," saidpriscilla resolutely. "you, phil, as all redmond knows, entertaincallers almost every evening. now, at patty's place we can't do that.we have decided that we shall be at home to our friends on friday evenings only.

if you come with us you'll have to abide bythat rule." "well, you don't think i'll mind that, doyou? why, i'm glad of it. i knew i should have had some such rulemyself, but i hadn't enough decision to make it or stick to it.when i can shuffle off the responsibility on you it will be a real relief. if you won't let me cast in my lot with youi'll die of the disappointment and then i'll come back and haunt you. i'll camp on the very doorstep of patty'splace and you won't be able to go out or

come in without falling over my spook."again anne and priscilla exchanged eloquent looks. "well," said anne, "of course we can'tpromise to take you until we've consulted with stella; but i don't think she'llobject, and, as far as we are concerned, you may come and glad welcome." "if you get tired of our simple life youcan leave us, and no questions asked," added priscilla.phil sprang up, hugged them both jubilantly, and went on her way rejoicing. "i hope things will go right," saidpriscilla soberly.

"we must make them go right," avowed anne."i think phil will fit into our 'appy little 'ome very well." "oh, phil's a dear to rattle round with andbe chums. and, of course, the more there are of usthe easier it will be on our slim purses. but how will she be to live with? you have to summer and winter with any onebefore you know if she's livable or not." "oh, well, we'll all be put to the test, asfar as that goes. and we must quit us like sensible folk,living and let live. phil isn't selfish, though she's a littlethoughtless, and i believe we will all get

on beautifully in patty's place."

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