poor--there are so many more things you can imagine about."
Their sojourn in town was something that Anne and Diana dated

from for years. From first to last it was crowded with delights.
On Wednesday Miss Barry took them to the Exhibition grounds and

kept them there all day.
"It was splendid," Anne related to Marilla later on. "I never

imagined anything so interesting. I don't really know which
department was the most interesting. I think I liked the horses

and the flowers and the fancywork best. Josie Pye took first
prize for knitted lace. I was real glad she did. And I was glad

that I felt glad, for it shows I'm improving, don't you think,
Marilla, when I can rejoice in Josie's success? Mr. Harmon

Andrews took second prize for Gravenstein apples and Mr. Bell
took first prize for a pig. Diana said she thought it was

ridiculous for a Sunday-school superintendent to take a prize in
pigs, but I don't see why. Do you? She said she would always

think of it after this when he was praying so solemnly" target="_blank" title="ad.严肃地，庄严地">solemnly. Clara
Louise MacPherson took a prize for painting, and Mrs. Lynde got

first prize for homemade butter and cheese. So Avonlea was
pretty well represented, wasn't it? Mrs. Lynde was there that

day, and I never knew how much I really liked her until I saw her
familiar face among all those strangers. There were thousands of

people there, Marilla. It made me feel dreadfully insignificant.
And Miss Barry took us up to the grandstand to see the horse

races. Mrs. Lynde wouldn't go; she said horse racing was an
abomination and, she being a church member, thought it her

bounden duty to set a good example by staying away. But there
were so many there I don't believe Mrs. Lynde's absence would

ever be noticed. I don't think, though, that I ought to go very
often to horse races, because they ARE awfully fascinating.

Diana got so excited that she offered to bet me ten cents that
the red horse would win. I didn't believe he would, but I

refused to bet, because I wanted to tell Mrs. Allan all about
everything, and I felt sure it wouldn't do to tell her that.

It's always wrong to do anything you can't tell the minister's
wife. It's as good as an extra conscience to have a minister's

wife for your friend. And I was very glad I didn't bet, because
the red horse DID win, and I would have lost ten cents. So you

see that virtue was its own reward. We saw a man go up in a
balloon. I'd love to go up in a balloon, Marilla; it would be

simply thrilling; and we saw a man selling fortunes. You paid
him ten cents and a little bird picked out your fortune for you.

Miss Barry gave Diana and me ten cents each to have our fortunes
told. Mine was that I would marry a dark-complected man who was

very wealthy, and I would go across water to live. I looked
carefully at all the dark men I saw after that, but I didn't care

much for any of them, and anyhow I suppose it's too early to be
looking out for him yet. Oh, it was a never-to-be-forgotten day,

Marilla. I was so tired I couldn't sleep at night. Miss Barry
put us in the spare room, according to promise. It was an

elegant room, Marilla, but somehow sleeping in a spare room isn't
what I used to think it was. That's the worst of growing up, and

I'm beginning to realize it. The things you wanted so much when you
were a child don't seem half so wonderful to you when you get them."

Thursday the girls had a drive in the park, and in the evening
Miss Barry took them to a concert in the Academy of Music, where

a noted prima donna was to sing. To Anne the evening was a
glittering vision of delight.

"Oh, Marilla, it was beyond description. I was so excited I
couldn't even talk, so you may know what it was like. I just sat

in enraptured silence. Madame Selitsky was perfectly beautiful,
and wore white satin and diamonds. But when she began to sing I

never thought about anything else. Oh, I can't tell you how I
felt. But it seemed to me that it could never be hard to be good

any more. I felt like I do when I look up to the stars. Tears
came into my eyes, but, oh, they were such happy tears. I was so

sorry when it was all over, and I told Miss Barry I didn't see
how I was ever to return to common life again. She said she

thought if we went over to the restaurant across the street and
had an ice cream it might help me. That sounded so prosaic; but

to my surprise I found it true. The ice cream was delicious,
Marilla, and it was so lovely and dissipated to be sitting there

eating it at eleven o'clock at night. Diana said she believed
she was born for city life. Miss Barry asked me what my opinion

was, but I said I would have to think it over very seriously
before I could tell her what I really thought. So I thought it

over after I went to bed. That is the to think things out. And I
came to the conclusion, Marilla, that I wasn't born for city life

and that I was glad of it. It's nice to be eating ice cream at
brilliant restaurants at eleven o'clock at night once in a while;

but as a regular thing I'd rather be in the east gable at eleven,
sound asleep, but kind of knowing even in my sleep that the stars

were shining outside and that the wind was blowing in the firs
across the brook. I told Miss Barry so at breakfast the next

morning and she laughed. Miss Barry generally laughed at
anything I said, even when I said the most solemn things.

I don't think I liked it, Marilla, because I wasn't trying to be
funny. But she is a most hospitable lady and treated us royally."

Friday brought going-home time, and Mr. Barry drove in for the girls.
"Well, I hope you've enjoyed yourselves," said Miss Barry, as she

bade them good-bye.
"Indeed we have," said Diana.

"And you, Anne-girl?"
"I've enjoyed every minute of the time," said Anne, throwing her

arms impulsively about the old woman's neck and kissing her
wrinkled cheek. Diana would never have dared to do such a thing

and felt rather aghast at Anne's freedom. But Miss Barry was
pleased, and she stood on her veranda and watched the buggy out

of sight. Then she went back into her big house with a sigh. It
seemed very lonely, lacking those fresh young lives. Miss Barry

was a rather selfish old lady, if the truth must be told, and had
never cared much for anybody but herself. She valued people only

as they were of service to her or amused her. Anne had amused
her, and consequently stood high in the old lady's good graces.

But Miss Barry found herself thinking less about Anne's quaint
speeches than of her fresh enthusiasms, her transparent emotions,

her little winning ways, and the sweetness of her eyes and lips.
"I thought Marilla Cuthbert was an old fool when I heard she'd

adopted a girl out of an orphan asylum," she said to herself,
"but I guess she didn't make much of a mistake after all. If I'd

a child like Anne in the house all the time I'd be a better and
happier woman."

Anne and Diana found the drive home as pleasant as the
drive in--pleasanter, indeed, since there was the delightful

consciousness of home waiting at the end of it. It was sunset
when they passed through White Sands and turned into the shore road.

Beyond, the Avonlea hills came out darkly against the saffron sky.
Behind them the moon was rising out of the sea that grew all radiant

and transfigured in her light. Every little cove along the curving
road was a marvel of dancing ripples. The waves broke with a soft

swish on the rocks below them, and the tang of the sea was in the
strong, fresh air.

"Oh, but it's good to be alive and to be going home," breathed Anne.
When she crossed the log bridge over the brook the kitchen light of

Green Gables winked her a friendly welcome back, and through the
open door shone the hearth fire, sending out its warm red glow

athwart the chilly autumn night. Anne ran blithely up the hill
and into the kitchen, where a hot supper was waiting on the table.