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 little village called Glen St. Mary at its head, and Dr. David Blythe has been practicing there for fifty years. He is Gilbert’s great-uncle, you know. He is going to retire, and Gilbert is to take over his practice. Dr. Blythe is going to keep his house, though, so we shall have to find a habitation for ourselves. I don’t know yet what it is, or where it will be in reality, but I have a little house o’dreams all furnished in my imagination — a tiny, delightful castle in Spain.”
“Where are you going for your wedding tour?” asked Diana.
“Nowhere. Don’t look horrified, Diana dearest. You suggest Mrs. Harmon Andrews. She, no doubt, will remark condescendingly that people who can’t afford wedding ‘towers’ are real sensible not to take them; and then she’ll remind me that Jane went to Europe for hers. I want to spend MY honeymoon at Four Winds in my own dear house of dreams.”
“And you’ve decided not to have any bridesmaid?”
“There isn’t any one to have. You and Phil and Priscilla and Jane all stole a march on me in the matter of marriage; and Stella is teaching in Vancouver. I have no other ‘kindred soul’ and I won’t have a bridesmaid who isn’t.”
“But you are going to wear a veil, aren’t you?” asked Diana, anxiously.
“Yes, indeedy. I shouldn’t feel like a bride without one. I remember telling Matthew, that evening when he brought me to Green Gables, that I never expected to be a bride because I was so homely no one would ever want to marry me — unless some foreign missionary did. I had an idea then that foreign missionaries couldn’t afford to be finicky in the matter of looks if they wanted a girl to risk her life among cannibals. You should have seen the foreign missionary Priscilla married. He was as handsome and inscrutable as those daydreams we once planned to marry ourselves, Diana; he was the best dressed man I ever met, and he raved over Priscilla’s ‘ethereal, golden beauty.’ But of course there are no cannibals in Japan.”
“Your wedding dress is a dream, anyhow,” sighed Diana rapturously. “You’ll look like a perfect queen in it — you’re so tall and slender. How DO you keep so slim, Anne? I’m fatter than ever — I’ll soon have no waist at all.”
“Stoutness and slimness seem to be matters of predestination,” said Anne. “At all events, Mrs. Harmon Andrews can’t say to you what she said to me when I came home from Summerside, ‘Well, Anne, you’re just about as skinny as ever.’ It sounds quite romantic to be ‘slender,’ but ‘skinny’ has a very different tang.”
“Mrs. Harmon has been talking about your trousseau. She admits it’s as nice as Jane’s, although she says Jane married a millionaire and you are only marrying a ‘poor young doctor without a cent to his name.’”
Anne laughed.
“My dresses ARE nice. I love pretty things. I remember the first pretty dress I ever had — the brown gloria Matthew gave me for our school concert. Before that everything I had was so ugly. It seemed to me that I stepped into a new world that night.”
“That was the night Gilbert recited ‘Bingen on the Rhine,’ and looked at you when he said, ‘There’s another, NOT a sister.’ And you were so furious because he put your pink tissue rose in his breast pocket! You didn’t much imagine then that you would ever marry him.”
“Oh, well, that’s another instance of predestination,” laughed Anne, as they went down the garret stairs.
Chapter II.
The House of Dreams
There was more excitement in the air of Green Gables than there had ever been before in all its history. Even Marilla was so excited that she couldn’t help showing it — which was little short of being phenomenal.
“There’s never been a wedding in this house,” she said, half apologetically, to Mrs. Rachel Lynde. “When I was a child I heard an old minister say that a house was not a real home until it had been consecrated by a birth, a wedding and a death. We’ve had deaths here — my father and mother died here as well as Matthew; and we’ve even had a birth here. Long ago, just after we moved into this house, we had a married hired man for a little while, and his wife had a baby here. But there’s never been a wedding before. It does seem so strange to think of Anne being married. In a way she just seems to me the little girl Matthew brought home here fourteen years ago. I can’t realize that she’s grown up. I shall never forget what I felt when I saw Matthew bringing in a GIRL. I wonder what became of the boy we would have got if there hadn’t been a mistake. I wonder what HIS fate was.”
“Well, it was a fortunate mistake,” said Mrs. Rachel Lynde, “though, mind you, there was a time I didn’t think so — that evening I came up to see Anne and she treated us to such a scene. Many things have changed since then, that’s what.”
Mrs. Rachel sighed, and then brisked up again. When weddings were in order Mrs. Rachel was ready to let the dead past bury its dead.
“I’m going to give Anne two of my cotton warp spreads,” she resumed. “A tobacco-stripe one and an apple-leaf one. She tells me they’re getting to be real fashionable again. Well, fashion or no fashion, I don’t believe there’s anything prettier for a spare-room bed than a nice apple-leaf spread, that’s what. I must see about getting them bleached. I’ve had them sewed up in cotton bags ever since Thomas died, and no doubt they’re an awful color. But there’s a month yet, and dew-bleaching will work wonders.”
Only a month! Marilla sighed and then said proudly:
“I’m giving Anne that half dozen braided rugs I have in the garret. I never supposed she’d want them — they’re so old-fashioned, and nobody seems to want anything but hooked mats now. But she asked me for them — said she’d rather have them than anything else for her floors. They ARE pretty. I made them of the nicest rags, and braided them in stripes. It was such company these last few winters. And I’ll make her enough blue plum preserve to stock her jam closet for a year. It seems real strange. Those blue plum trees hadn’t even a blossom for three years, and I thought they might as well be cut down. And this last spring they were white, and such a crop of plums I never remember at Green Gables.”
“Well, thank goodness that Anne and Gilbert
