Anne of Ingleside

"Withdraw thy foot from thy neighbour's house lest he weary of thee and hate thee."

for the House of Dreams always seemed like a second home to the small fry of Ingleside.

How nice to have someone meet you at the end of a journey!" she cried, as she stepped off the train at Glen St. Mary into Gilbert's waiting arms. She could never be sure Gilbert would meet her . . . somebody was always dying or being born . . . but no homecoming ever seemed just right to Anne unless he did. And he had on such a nice new light-grey suit! (How glad I am I put on this frilly eggshell blouse with my brown suit, even if Mrs. Lynde thought I was crazy to wear it travelling. If I hadn't I wouldn't have looked so nice for Gilbert.)

I declare in some ways, Anne, she's far more like you than she is like me."

She was Anne of Green Gables once more

Do you remember the night we went to the negro church? . . .

think of something clever to say! She knew that at three o'clock that night she would probably think of a brilliant retort she might have made but that did not help her now

"Plethe, dear God, make it rain hard. Make it rain pitchforkth. Or elth. . ." Rilla thought of another saving possibility, "make Thusanth cake burn . . . burn to a crithp."

You had to let the old go and take the new to your heart . . . learn to love it and then let it go in turn. Spring, lovely as it was, must yield to summer and summer lose itself in autumn.

Dusk had fallen. Where, he wondered, had it fallen from? Did some great spirit with bat-like wings pour it all over the world from a purple jar?