course, he had insulted her terribly, but still--! Altogether,

Anne rather thought it would be a relief to sit down and have a
good cry. She was really quite unstrung, for the reaction from

her fright and cramped clinging was making itself felt.
Halfway up the path she met Jane and Diana rushing back to the pond

in a state narrowly removed from positivefrenzy. They had found
nobody at Orchard Slope, both Mr. and Mrs. Barry being away.

Here Ruby Gillis had succumbed to hysterics, and was left to
recover from them as best she might, while Jane and Diana flew

through the Haunted Wood and across the brook to Green Gables.
There they had found nobody either, for Marilla had gone to

Carmody and Matthew was making hay in the back field.
"Oh, Anne," gasped Diana, fairly falling on the former's neck and

weeping with relief and delight, "oh, Anne--we thought--you
were--drowned--and we felt like murderers--because we had

made--you be--Elaine. And Ruby is in hysterics--oh, Anne, how
did you escape?"

"I climbed up on one of the piles," explained Anne wearily, "and
Gilbert Blythe came along in Mr. Andrews's dory and brought me to land."

"Oh, Anne, how splendid of him! Why, it's so romantic!" said Jane,
findingbreath enough for utterance at last. "Of course you'll speak

to him after this."
"Of course I won't," flashed Anne, with a momentary return of her

old spirit. "And I don't want ever to hear the word `romantic' again,
Jane Andrews. I'm awfully sorry you were so frightened, girls. It is

all my fault. I feel sure I was born under an unlucky star. Everything
I do gets me or my dearest friends into a scrape. We've gone and lost

your father's flat, Diana, and I have a presentiment that we'll not
be allowed to row on the pond any more."

Anne's presentiment proved more trustworthy than presentiments are
apt to do. Great was the consternation in the Barry and Cuthbert

households when the events of the afternoon became known.
"Will you ever have any sense, Anne?" groaned Marilla.

"Oh, yes, I think I will, Marilla," returned Anne optimistically.
A good cry, indulged in the gratefulsolitude of the east gable,

had soothed her nerves and restored her to her wonted cheerfulness.
"I think my prospects of becoming sensible are brighter now than ever"

"I don't see how," said Marilla.
"Well," explained Anne, "I've learned a new and valuable lesson today.

Ever since I came to Green Gables I've been making mistakes, and each
mistake has helped to cure me of some great shortcoming. The affair

of the amethyst brooch cured me of meddling with things that didn't
belong to me. The Haunted Wood mistake cured me of letting my

imagination run away with me. The liniment cake mistake cured
me of carelessness in cooking. Dyeing my hair cured me of vanity.

I never think about my hair and nose now--at least, very seldom.
And today's mistake is going to cure me of being too romantic.

I have come to the conclusion that it is no use trying to be
romantic in Avonlea. It was probably easy enough in towered

Camelot hundreds of years ago, but romance is not appreciated now.
I feel quite sure that you will soon see a great improvement in me

in this respect, Marilla."
"I'm sure I hope so," said Marilla skeptically.

But Matthew, who had been sitting mutely in his corner, laid a
hand on Anne's shoulder when Marilla had gone out.

"Don't give up all your romance, Anne," he whispered shyly,
"a little of it is a good thing--not too much, of course--but

keep a little of it, Anne, keep a little of it."
CHAPTER XXIX

An Epoch in Anne's Life
Anne was bringing the cows home from the back pasture by way of

Lover's Lane. It was a September evening and all the gaps and
clearings in the woods were brimmed up with ruby sunset light.

Here and there the lane was splashed with it, but for the most
part it was already quite shadowy beneath the maples, and the

spaces under the firs were filled with a clear violet dusk like
airy wine. The winds were out in their tops, and there is no

sweeter music on earth than that which the wind makes in the fir
trees at evening.

The cows swung placidly down the lane, and Anne followed them
dreamily, repeating aloud the battle canto from MARMION--which

had also been part of their English course the preceding winter
and which Miss Stacy had made them learn off by heart--and

exulting in its rushing lines and the clash of spears in its
imagery. When she came to the lines

The stubborn spearsmen still made good
Their dark impenetrable wood,

she stopped in ecstasy to shut her eyes that she might the better
fancy herself one of that heroic ring. When she opened them

again it was to behold Diana coming through the gate that led
into the Barry field and looking so important that Anne instantly

divined there was news to be told. But betray too eager
curiosity she would not.

"Isn't this evening just like a purple dream, Diana? It makes me
so glad to be alive. In the mornings I always think the mornings

are best; but when evening comes I think it's lovelier still."
"It's a very fine evening," said Diana, "but oh, I have such

news, Anne. Guess. You can have three guesses."
"Charlotte Gillis is going to be married in the church after all

and Mrs. Allan wants us to decorate it," cried Anne.
"No. Charlotte's beau won't agree to that, because nobody ever

has been married in the church yet, and he thinks it would seem
too much like a funeral. It's too mean, because it would be such fun.

Guess again."
"Jane's mother is going to let her have a birthday party?"

Diana shook her head, her black eyes dancing with merriment.
"I can't think what it can be," said Anne in despair, "unless

it's that Moody Spurgeon MacPherson saw you home from prayer
meeting last night. Did he?"

"I should think not," exclaimed Diana indignantly. "I wouldn't
be likely to boast of it if he did, the horrid creature! I knew

you couldn't guess it. Mother had a letter from Aunt Josephine
today, and Aunt Josephine wants you and me to go to town next

Tuesday and stop with her for the Exhibition. There!"
"Oh, Diana," whispered Anne, finding it necessary to lean up against

a maple tree for support, "do you really mean it? But I'm afraid
Marilla won't let me go. She will say that she can't encourage

gadding about. That was what she said last week when Jane invited
me to go with them in their double-seated buggy to the American

concert at the White Sands Hotel. I wanted to go, but Marilla
said I'd be better at home learning my lessons and so would Jane.

I was bitterly disappointed, Diana. I felt so heartbroken that
I wouldn't say my prayers when I went to bed. But I repented of

that and got up in the middle of the night and said them."
"I'll tell you," said Diana, "we'll get Mother to ask Marilla.

She'll be more likely to let you go then; and if she does we'll
have the time of our lives, Anne. I've never been to an

Exhibition, and it's so aggravating to hear the other girls
talking about their trips. Jane and Ruby have been twice, and

they're going this year again."
"I'm not going to think about it at all until I know whether I

can go or not," said Anne resolutely. "If I did and then was
disappointed, it would be more than I could bear. But in case I

do go I'm very glad my new coat will be ready by that time.
Marilla didn't think I needed a new coat. She said my old one