(1 Chronicles of Avonlea.)“What a nice play-time this has been,” said Anne. “I feel like a giant
refreshed. And it’s only a fortnight more till I go back to Kingsport, and
Redmond and Patty’s Place. Patty’s Place is the dearest spot, Miss Lavendar. I
feel as if I had two homes—one at Green Gables and one at Patty’s Place. But
where has the summer gone? It doesn’t seem a day since I came home that
spring evening with the Mayflowers. When I was little I couldn’t see from one
end of the summer to the other. It stretched before me like an unending season.
Now, ‘’tis a handbreadth, ‘tis a tale.’”
“Anne, are you and Gilbert Blythe as good friends as you used to be?” asked
Miss Lavendar quietly.
“I am just as much Gilbert’s friend as ever I was, Miss Lavendar.”
Miss Lavendar shook her head.
“I see something’s gone wrong, Anne. I’m going to be impertinent and ask
what. Have you quarrelled?”
“No; it’s only that Gilbert wants more than friendship and I can’t give him
more.”
“Are you sure of that, Anne?”
“Perfectly sure.”
“I’m very, very sorry.”
“I wonder why everybody seems to think I ought to marry Gilbert Blythe,”
said Anne petulantly.
“Because you were made and meant for each other, Anne—that is why. You
needn’t toss that young head of yours. It’s a fact.”