author - "Lucy Maud Montgomery"

s wind to talk sense into you concerning Max. I'm going to Halifax for two months and I want you to take charge of Fatima for me, while I am away."

"Fatima!" I exclaimed.

"Yes. I don't dare to trust her with the servants. Mind you always warm her milk before you give it to her, and don't on any account let her run out of doors."

I looked at Ismay and Ismay looked at me. We knew we were in for it. To refuse would mortally offend Aunt Cynthia. Besides, if I betrayed any unwillingness, Aunt Cynthia would be sure to put it down to grumpiness over what she had said about Max, and rub it in for years. But I ventured to ask, "What if anything happens to her while you are away?"

"It is to prevent that, I'm leaving her with you," said Aunt Cynthia. "You simply must not let anything happen to her. It will do you good to have a little responsibility. And you will have a chance to find out what an adorable creature Fatima really is. Well, that is all settled. I'll send Fatima out to-morrow."

but I felt real glad. I was afraid he might stay away and sulk. So long as he comes here and sulks I don't worry. But he is feeling badly enough, poor soul, and I'm really eaten up by remorse. He tried to outstay Mr. Sherman last night, but he didn't manage it. You never saw a more depressed-looking creature than he was as he hurried down the lane. Yes, he actually hurried."

The following Sunday evening Arnold Sherman walked to church with Theodora, and sat with her. When they came in Ludovic Speed suddenly stood up in his pew under the gallery. He sat down again at once, but everybody in view had seen him, and that night folks in all the length and breadth of Grafton River discussed the dramatic occurrence with keen enjoyment.

"Yes, he jumped right up as if he was pulled on his feet, while the minister was reading the chapter," said his cousin, Lorella Speed, who had been in church, to her sister, who had not. "His face was as white as a sheet, and his eyes were just glaring out of his head. I

call her superstitious. She has an odd belief in dreams and we have not been able to laugh it out of her. I must own, too, that some of her dreams--but there, it would not do to let Gilbert hear me hinting such heresy. What have you found of much interest, Susan?" Susan had given an exclamation. "Listen to this, Mrs. Dr. dear. 'Mrs. Sophia Crawford has given up her house at Lowbridge and will make her home in future with her niece, Mrs. Albert Crawford.' Why that is my own cousin Sophia, Mrs. Dr. dear. We quarrelled when we were children over who should get a Sunday-school card with the words 'God is Love,' wreathed in rosebuds, on it, and have never spoken to each other since. And now she is coming to live right across the road from us." "You will have to make up the old quarrel, Susan. It will never do to be at outs with your neighbours." "Cousin Sophia began the quarrel, so she can begin the making up also, Mrs. Dr. dear," said Susan loftily. "If she does I hope I am a good enough Christian to meet her ha

says it would hurt Aunt Martha's feelings. Anne dearie,believe me, the state of that manse is something terrible.Everything is thick with dust and nothing is ever in its place.And we had painted and papered it all so nice before they came."

"There are four children, you say?" asked Anne, beginning tomother them already in her heart.

"Yes. They run up just like the steps of a stair. Gerald's theoldest. He's twelve and they call him Jerry. He's a clever boy.Faith is eleven. She is a regular tomboy but pretty as apicture, I must say."

"She looks like an angel but she is a holy terror for mischief,Mrs. Dr. dear," said Susan solemnly. "I was at the manse onenight last week and Mrs. James Millison was there, too. She hadbrought them up a dozen eggs and a little pail of milk--a VERYlittle pail, Mrs. Dr. dear. Faith took them and whisked down thecellar with them. Near the bottom of the stairs she caught hertoe and fell the rest of the way, milk and eggs and all. You canimagine the re

nd keep an eye on the dinner at the same time. Today, when you called me, I distinctly heard that queer clock of the Pyes' striking. So no doubt Josie or Gertie was listening."

"Oh, so that is why you said, `You've got a new clock at Green Gables, haven't you?' I couldn't imagine what you meant. I heard a vicious click as soon as you had spoken. I suppose it was the Pye receiver being hung up with profane energy. Well, never mind the Pyes. As Mrs. Rachel says, `Pyes they always were and Pyes they always will be, world without end, amen.' I want to talk of pleasanter things. It's all settled as to where my new home shall be."

"Oh, Anne, where? I do hope it's near here."

"No-o-o, that's the drawback. Gilbert is going to settle at Four Winds Harbor--sixty miles from here."

"Sixty! It might as well be six hundred," sighed Diana. "I never can get further from home now than Charlottetown."

"You'll have to come to Four Winds. It's the most beautiful harbor on the Island. There's a

to be made and received, being pleasant or otherwise, according to whether callers and called-upon were heartily in sympathy with Anne's hopes, or thought she was too much puffed-up over going to college and that it was their duty to "take her down a peg or two."

The A.V.I.S. gave a farewell party in honor of Anne and Gilbert one evening at the home of Josie Pye, choosing that place, partly because Mr. Pye's house was large and convenient, partly because it was strongly suspected that the Pye girls would have nothing to do with the affair if their offer of the house for the party was not accepted. It was a very pleasant little time, for the Pye 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 so that 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, wit

often. Mrs. Rachel, ponder as she might,could make nothing of it and her afternoon's enjoyment was spoiled.

"I'll just step over to Green Gables after tea and findout from Marilla where he's gone and why," the worthy womanfinally concluded. "He doesn't generally go to town thistime of year and he NEVER visits; if he'd run out of turnipseed he wouldn't dress up and take the buggy to go for more;he wasn't driving fast enough to be going for a doctor. Yetsomething must have happened since last night to start himoff. I'm clean puzzled, that's what, and I won't know aminute's peace of mind or conscience until I know what hastaken Matthew Cuthbert out of Avonlea today."

Accordingly after tea Mrs. Rachel set out; she had notfar to go; the big, rambling, orchard-embowered house wherethe Cuthberts lived was a scant quarter of a mile up theroad from Lynde's Hollow. To be sure, the long lane made ita good deal further. Matthew Cuthbert's father, as shy andsilent as his son after him, had got a