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one before he ‘axes' me。〃
〃All Redmond knows that Roy is crazy about you；〃 said Phil candidly。〃
And you DO love him； don't you； Anne？〃
〃I I suppose so；〃 said Anne reluctantly。 She felt that she ought
to be blushing while making such a confession； but she was not；
on the other hand； she always blushed hotly when any one said
anything about Gilbert Blythe or Christine Stuart in her hearing。
Gilbert Blythe and Christine Stuart were nothing to her
absolutely nothing。 But Anne had given up trying to analyze
the reason of her blushes。 As for Roy； of course she was in
love with him madly so。 How could she help it？ Was he not
her ideal？ Who could resist those glorious dark eyes； and that
pleading voice？ Were not half the Redmond girls wildly envious？
And what a charming sonnet he had sent her； with a box of violets；
on her birthday！ Anne knew every word of it by heart。 It was very
good stuff of its kind； too。 Not exactly up to the level of Keats or
Shakespeare even Anne was not so deeply in love as to think that。
But it was very tolerable magazine verse。 And it was addressed to HER
not to Laura or Beatrice or the Maid of Athens； but to her； Anne Shirley。
To be told in rhythmical cadences that her eyes were stars of the morning
that her cheek had the flush it stole from the sunrise that her
lips were redder than the roses of Paradise； was thrillingly romantic。
Gilbert would never have dreamed of writing a sonnet to her eyebrows。
But then； Gilbert could see a joke。 She had once told Roy a funny story
and he had not seen the point of it。 She recalled the chummy laugh
she and Gilbert had had together over it； and wondered uneasily if life
with a man who had no sense of humor might not be somewhat uninteresting
in the long run。 But who could expect a melancholy； inscrutable hero to
see the humorous side of things？ It would be flatly unreasonable。
Chapter XXVIII
A June Evening
〃I wonder what it would be like to live in a world where it was
always June；〃 said Anne； as she came through the spice and bloom
of the twilit orchard to the front door steps； where Marilla and
Mrs。 Rachel were sitting； talking over Mrs。 Samson Coates' funeral；
which they had attended that day。 Dora sat between them； diligently
studying her lessons； but Davy was sitting tailor…fashion on the grass；
looking as gloomy and depressed as his single dimple would let him。
〃You'd get tired of it；〃 said Marilla； with a sigh。
〃I daresay； but just now I feel that it would take me a long
time to get tired of it； if it were all as charming as today。
Everything loves June。 Davy…boy； why this melancholy November
face in blossom…time？〃
〃I'm just sick and tired of living；〃 said the youthful pessimist。
〃At ten years？ Dear me； how sad！〃
〃I'm not making fun；〃 said Davy with dignity。 〃I'm dis dis
discouraged〃 bringing out the big word with a valiant effort。
〃Why and wherefore？〃 asked Anne； sitting down beside him。
〃'Cause the new teacher that come when Mr。 Holmes got sick give
me ten sums to do for Monday。 It'll take me all day tomorrow to
do them。 It isn't fair to have to work Saturdays。 Milty Boulter
said he wouldn't do them； but Marilla says I've got to。 I don't
like Miss Carson a bit。〃
〃Don't talk like that about your teacher； Davy Keith；〃 said
Mrs。 Rachel severely。 〃Miss Carson is a very fine girl。
There is no nonsense about her。〃
〃That doesn't sound very attractive；〃 laughed Anne。 〃I like
people to have a little nonsense about them。 But I'm inclined
to have a better opinion of Miss Carson than you have。 I saw her
in prayer…meeting last night； and she has a pair of eyes that
can't always look sensible。 Now； Davy…boy； take heart of grace。
‘Tomorrow will bring another day' and I'll help you with the sums
as far as in me lies。 Don't waste this lovely hour ‘twixt light
and dark worrying over arithmetic。〃
〃Well； I won't；〃 said Davy； brightening up。 〃If you help me
with the sums I'll have 'em done in time to go fishing with Milty。
I wish old Aunt Atossa's funeral was tomorrow instead of today。
I wanted to go to it 'cause Milty said his mother said Aunt Atossa
would be sure to rise up in her coffin and say sarcastic things to
the folks that come to see her buried。 But Marilla said she didn't。〃
〃Poor Atossa laid in her coffin peaceful enough；〃 said Mrs。 Lynde
solemnly。 〃I never saw her look so pleasant before； that's what。
Well； there weren't many tears shed over her； poor old soul。
The Elisha Wrights are thankful to be rid of her； and I can't
say I blame them a mite。〃
〃It seems to me a most dreadful thing to go out of the world and not
leave one person behind you who is sorry you are gone；〃 said Anne； shuddering。
〃Nobody except her parents ever loved poor Atossa； that's certain； not even
her husband；〃 averred Mrs。 Lynde。 〃She was his fourth wife。 He'd sort of got
into the habit of marrying。 He only lived a few years after he married her。
The doctor said he died of dyspepsia； but I shall always maintain that he died
of Atossa's tongue； that's what。 Poor soul； she always knew everything about
her neighbors； but she never was very well acquainted with herself。 Well；
she's gone anyhow； and I suppose the next excitement will be Diana's wedding。〃
〃It seems funny and horrible to think of Diana's being married；〃
sighed Anne； hugging her knees and looking through the gap in the
Haunted Wood to the light that was shining in Diana's room。
〃I don't see what's horrible about it； when she's doing so well；〃
said Mrs。 Lynde emphatically。 〃Fred Wright has a fine farm and
he is a model young man。〃
〃He certainly isn't the wild； dashing； wicked； young man Diana
once wanted to marry；〃 smiled Anne。 〃Fred is extremely good。〃
〃That's just what he ought to be。 Would you want Diana to marry
a wicked man？ Or marry one yourself？〃
〃Oh； no。 I wouldn't want to marry anybody who was wicked；
but I think I'd like it if he COULD be wicked and WOULDN'T。
Now； Fred is HOPELESSLY good。〃
〃You'll have more sense some day； I hope；〃 said Marilla。
Marilla spoke rather bitterly。 She was grievously disappointed。
She knew Anne had refused Gilbert Blythe。 Avonlea gossip buzzed
over the fact； which had leaked out； nobody knew how。 Perhaps
Charlie Sloane had guessed and told his guesses for truth。
Perhaps Diana had betrayed it to Fred and Fred had been indiscreet。
At all events it was known； Mrs。 Blythe no longer asked Anne；
in public or private； if she had heard lately from Gilbert； but
passed her by with a frosty bow。 Anne； who had always liked Gilbert's
merry； young…hearted mother； was grieved in secret over this。
Marilla said nothing； but Mrs。 Lynde gave Anne many exasperated
digs about it； until fresh gossip reached that worthy lady；
through the medium of Moody Spurgeon MacPherson's mother；
that Anne had another 〃beau〃 at college； who was rich and
handsome and good all in one。 After that Mrs。 Rachel held
her tongue； though she still wished in her inmost heart that
Anne had accepted Gilbert。 Riches were all very well；
but even Mrs。 Rachel； practical soul though she was； did not
consider them the one essential。 If Anne 〃liked〃 the Handsome
Unknown better than Gilbert there was nothing more to be said；
but Mrs。 Rachel was dreadfully afraid that Anne was going to
make the mistake of marrying for money。 Marilla knew Anne too
well to fear this； but she felt that something in the universal
scheme of things had gone sadly awry。
〃What is to be； will be；〃 said Mrs。 Rachel gloomily； 〃and what isn't
to be happens sometimes。 I can't help believing it's going to happen
in Anne's case； if Providence doesn't interfere； that's what。〃
Mrs。 Rachel sighed。 She was afraid Providence wouldn't interfere；
and she didn't dare to。
Anne had wandered down to the Dryad's Bubble and was curled up
among the ferns at the root of the big white birch where she and
Gilbert had so often sat in summers gone by。 He had gone into
the newspaper office again when college closed； and Avonlea
seemed very dull without him。 He never wrote to her； and Anne
missed the letters that never came。 To be sure； Roy wrote twice
a week； his letters were exquisite compositions which would have
read beautifully in a memoir or biography。 Anne felt herself
more deeply in love with him than ever when she read them； but
her heart never gave the queer； quick； painful bound at sight of
his letters which it had given one day when Mrs。 Hiram Sloane
had handed her out an envelope addressed in Gilbert's black；
upright handwriting。 Anne had hurried home to the east gable and
opened it eagerly to find a typewritten copy of some college
society report 〃only that and nothing more。〃 Anne flung the
harmless screed across her room and sat down to write an
especially nice epistle to Roy。
Diana was to be