pricking of my thumbs,’” said Anne, as they went up the slope. “It’s a nice story-
bookish feeling. Why—why—why! Priscilla Grant, look over there and tell me
if it’s true, or am I seein’ things?”
Priscilla looked. Anne’s thumbs and eyes had not deceived her. Over the
arched gateway of Patty’s Place dangled a little, modest sign. It said “To Let,
Furnished. Inquire Within.”
“Priscilla,” said Anne, in a whisper, “do you suppose it’s possible that we
could rent Patty’s Place?”
“No, I don’t,” averred Priscilla. “It would be too good to be true. Fairy tales
don’t happen nowadays. I won’t hope, Anne. The disappointment would be too
awful to bear. They’re sure to want more for it than we can afford. Remember,
it’s on Spofford Avenue.”
“We must find out anyhow,” said Anne resolutely. “It’s too late to call this
evening, but we’ll come tomorrow. Oh, Pris, if we can get this darling spot! I’ve
always felt that my fortunes were linked with Patty’s Place, ever since I saw it
first.”