would promise “to become Mrs. Charlie Sloane some day.” Coming after Billy
Andrews’ proxy effort, this was not quite the shock to Anne’s romantic
sensibilities that it would otherwise have been; but it was certainly another heart-
rending disillusion. She was angry, too, for she felt that she had never given
Charlie the slightest encouragement to suppose such a thing possible. But what
could you expect of a Sloane, as Mrs. Rachel Lynde would ask scornfully?
Charlie’s whole attitude, tone, air, words, fairly reeked with Sloanishness. “He
was conferring a great honor—no doubt whatever about that. And when Anne,
utterly insensible to the honor, refused him, as delicately and considerately as
she could—for even a Sloane had feelings which ought not to be unduly
lacerated—Sloanishness still further betrayed itself. Charlie certainly did not
take his dismissal as Anne’s imaginary rejected suitors did. Instead, he became
angry, and showed it; he said two or three quite nasty things; Anne’s temper
flashed up mutinously and she retorted with a cutting little speech whose
keenness pierced even Charlie’s protective Sloanishness and reached the quick;
he caught up his hat and flung himself out of the house with a very red face;
Anne rushed upstairs, falling twice over Miss Ada’s cushions on the way, and
threw herself on her bed, in tears of humiliation and rage. Had she actually
stooped to quarrel with a Sloane? Was it possible anything Charlie Sloane could
say had power to make her angry? Oh, this was degradation, indeed—worse
even than being the rival of Nettie Blewett!
“I wish I need never see the horrible creature again,” she sobbed vindictively
into her pillows.
She could not avoid seeing him again, but the outraged Charlie took care that
it should not be at very close quarters. Miss Ada’s cushions were henceforth safe
from his depredations, and when he met Anne on the street, or in Redmond’s
halls, his bow was icy in the extreme. Relations between these two old
schoolmates continued to be thus strained for nearly a year! Then Charlie
transferred his blighted affections to a round, rosy, snub-nosed, blue-eyed, little
Sophomore who appreciated them as they deserved, whereupon he forgave Anne
and condescended to be civil to her again; in a patronizing manner intended to
show her just what she had lost.
One day Anne scurried excitedly into Priscilla’s room.
“Read that,” she cried, tossing Priscilla a letter. “It’s from Stella—and she’s
coming to Redmond next year—and what do you think of her idea? I think it’s a
perfectly splendid one, if we can only carry it out. Do you suppose we can,
Pris?”
“I’ll be better able to tell you when I find out what it is,” said Priscilla, casting