L M Montgomery

Anne's House of Dreams L M Montgomery

"Thanks be, I'm done with geometry, learning or teaching it," said Anne Shirley, a triflevindictively, as she thumped a somewhat battered volume of Euclid into a big chest of books, banged the lid in triumph, and sat down upon it, looking at Diana Wright across the GreenGables garret, with gray eyes that were like a morning sky. The garret was a shadowy, suggestive, delightful place, as all garrets should be. Through theopen window, by which Anne sat, blew the sweet, scented, sun-warm air of the Augustafternoon; outside, poplar boughs rustled and tossed in the wind; beyond them were the woods, where Lover's Lane wound its enchanted path, and the old apple orchard which still bore its rosyharvests munificently. And, over all, was a great mountain range of snowy clouds in the bluesouthern sky. Through the other window was glimpsed a distant, white-capped, blue sea-thebeautiful St. Lawrence Gulf, on which floats, like a jewel, Abegweit, whose softer, sweeterIndian name has long been forsaken for the more prosaic one of Prince Edward Islan