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“
But
you
are
only
seventeen
at
heart
,
”
smiled
Anne
.
“
No
,
I
’
m
old
.
.
.
or
rather
middle
-
aged
,
which
is
far
worse
,
”
sighed
Miss
Lavendar
.
“
Sometimes
I
can
pretend
I
’
m
not
,
but
at
other
times
I
realize
it
.
And
I
can
’
t
reconcile
myself
to
it
as
most
women
seem
to
.
I
’
m
just
as
rebellious
as
I
was
when
I
discovered
my
first
gray
hair
.
Now
,
Anne
,
don
’
t
look
as
if
you
were
trying
to
understand
.
Seventeen
CAN
’
T
understand
.
I
’
m
going
to
pretend
right
away
that
I
am
seventeen
too
,
and
I
can
do
it
,
now
that
you
’
re
here
.
You
always
bring
youth
in
your
hand
like
a
gift
.
We
’
re
going
to
have
a
jolly
evening
.
Tea
first
.
.
.
what
do
you
want
for
tea
?
We
’
ll
have
whatever
you
like
.
Do
think
of
something
nice
and
indigestible
.
”
There
were
sounds
of
riot
and
mirth
in
the
little
stone
house
that
night
.
What
with
cooking
and
feasting
and
making
candy
and
laughing
and
“
pretending
,
”
it
is
quite
true
that
Miss
Lavendar
and
Anne
comported
themselves
in
a
fashion
entirely
unsuited
to
the
dignity
of
a
spinster
of
forty
-
five
and
a
sedate
schoolma
’
am
.
Then
,
when
they
were
tired
,
they
sat
down
on
the
rug
before
the
grate
in
the
parlor
,
lighted
only
by
the
soft
fireshine
and
perfumed
deliciously
by
Miss
Lavendar
’
s
open
rose
-
jar
on
the
mantel
.
The
wind
had
risen
and
was
sighing
and
wailing
around
the
eaves
and
the
snow
was
thudding
softly
against
the
windows
,
as
if
a
hundred
storm
sprites
were
tapping
for
entrance
.
“
I
’
m
so
glad
you
’
re
here
,
Anne
,
”
said
Miss
Lavendar
,
nibbling
at
her
candy
.
“
If
you
weren
’
t
I
should
be
blue
.
.
.
very
blue
.
.
.
almost
navy
blue
.
Dreams
and
make
-
believes
are
all
very
well
in
the
daytime
and
the
sunshine
,
but
when
dark
and
storm
come
they
fail
to
satisfy
.
One
wants
real
things
then
.
But
you
don
’
t
know
this
.
.
.
seventeen
never
knows
it
.
At
seventeen
dreams
DO
satisfy
because
you
think
the
realities
are
waiting
for
you
further
on
.
When
I
was
seventeen
,
Anne
,
I
didn
’
t
think
forty
-
five
would
find
me
a
white
-
haired
little
old
maid
with
nothing
but
dreams
to
fill
my
life
.
”
“
But
you
aren
’
t
an
old
maid
,
”
said
Anne
,
smiling
into
Miss
Lavendar
’
s
wistful
woodbrown
eyes
.
“
Old
maids
are
BORN
.
.
.
they
don
’
t
BECOME
.
”
“
Some
are
born
old
maids
,
some
achieve
old
maidenhood
,
and
some
have
old
maidenhood
thrust
upon
them
,
”
parodied
Miss
Lavendar
whimsically
.
“
You
are
one
of
those
who
have
achieved
it
then
,
”
laughed
Anne
,
“
and
you
’
ve
done
it
so
beautifully
that
if
every
old
maid
were
like
you
they
would
come
into
the
fashion
,
I
think
.
”
“
I
always
like
to
do
things
as
well
as
possible
,
”
said
Miss
Lavendar
meditatively
,
“
and
since
an
old
maid
I
had
to
be
I
was
determined
to
be
a
very
nice
one
.
People
say
I
’
m
odd
;
but
it
’
s
just
because
I
follow
my
own
way
of
being
an
old
maid
and
refuse
to
copy
the
traditional
pattern
.
Anne
,
did
anyone
ever
tell
you
anything
about
Stephen
Irving
and
me
?
”
“
Yes
,
”
said
Anne
candidly
,
“
I
’
ve
heard
that
you
and
he
were
engaged
once
.
”
“
So
we
were
.
.
.
twenty
-
five
years
ago
.
.
.
a
lifetime
ago
.
