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I
can
t
do
it
,
Grandma
,
he
said
.
I
don
t
really
know
if
I
can
eat
ANYTHING
.
I
feel
as
if
there
was
a
dreadful
lump
in
my
throat
.
I
d
have
cried
coming
home
from
school
if
Jake
Donnell
hadn
t
been
watching
me
.
I
believe
I
will
cry
after
I
go
to
bed
.
It
wouldn
t
show
on
my
eyes
tomorrow
,
would
it
?
And
it
would
be
such
a
relief
.
But
anyway
,
I
can
t
eat
porridge
.
I
m
going
to
need
all
my
strength
of
mind
to
bear
up
against
this
,
Grandma
,
and
I
won
t
have
any
left
to
grapple
with
porridge
.
Oh
Grandma
,
I
don
t
know
what
I
ll
do
when
my
beautiful
teacher
goes
away
.
Milty
Boulter
says
he
bets
Jane
Andrews
will
get
the
school
.
I
suppose
Miss
Andrews
is
very
nice
.
But
I
know
she
won
t
understand
things
like
Miss
Shirley
.
Diana
also
took
a
very
pessimistic
view
of
affairs
.
It
will
be
horribly
lonesome
here
next
winter
,
she
mourned
,
one
twilight
when
the
moonlight
was
raining
airy
silver
through
the
cherry
boughs
and
filling
the
east
gable
with
a
soft
,
dream
-
like
radiance
in
which
the
two
girls
sat
and
talked
,
Anne
on
her
low
rocker
by
the
window
,
Diana
sitting
Turkfashion
on
the
bed
.
You
and
Gilbert
will
be
gone
.
.
.
and
the
Allans
too
.
They
are
going
to
call
Mr
.
Allan
to
Charlottetown
and
of
course
he
ll
accept
.
It
s
too
mean
.
We
ll
be
vacant
all
winter
,
I
suppose
,
and
have
to
listen
to
a
long
string
of
candidates
.
.
.
and
half
of
them
won
t
be
any
good
.
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I
hope
they
won
t
call
Mr
.
Baxter
from
East
Grafton
here
,
anyhow
,
said
Anne
decidedly
.
He
wants
the
call
but
he
does
preach
such
gloomy
sermons
.
Mr
.
Bell
says
he
s
a
minister
of
the
old
school
,
but
Mrs
.
Lynde
says
there
s
nothing
whatever
the
matter
with
him
but
indigestion
.
His
wife
isn
t
a
very
good
cook
,
it
seems
,
and
Mrs
.
Lynde
says
that
when
a
man
has
to
eat
sour
bread
two
weeks
out
of
three
his
theology
is
bound
to
get
a
kink
in
it
somewhere
.
Mrs
.
Allan
feels
very
badly
about
going
away
.
She
says
everybody
has
been
so
kind
to
her
since
she
came
here
as
a
bride
that
she
feels
as
if
she
were
leaving
lifelong
friends
.
And
then
,
there
s
the
baby
s
grave
,
you
know
.
She
says
she
doesn
t
see
how
she
can
go
away
and
leave
that
.
.
.
it
was
such
a
little
mite
of
a
thing
and
only
three
months
old
,
and
she
says
she
is
afraid
it
will
miss
its
mother
,
although
she
knows
better
and
wouldn
t
say
so
to
Mr
.
Allan
for
anything
.
She
says
she
has
slipped
through
the
birch
grove
back
of
the
manse
nearly
every
night
to
the
graveyard
and
sung
a
little
lullaby
to
it
.
She
told
me
all
about
it
last
evening
when
I
was
up
putting
some
of
those
early
wild
roses
on
Matthew
s
grave
.
I
promised
her
that
as
long
as
I
was
in
Avonlea
I
would
put
flowers
on
the
baby
s
grave
and
when
I
was
away
I
felt
sure
that
.
.
.
That
I
would
do
it
,
supplied
Diana
heartily
.
Of
course
I
will
.
And
I
ll
put
them
on
Matthew
s
grave
too
,
for
your
sake
,
Anne
.
Oh
,
thank
you
.
I
meant
to
ask
you
to
if
you
would
.
And
on
little
Hester
Gray
s
too
?
Please
don
t
forget
hers
.
Do
you
know
,
I
ve
thought
and
dreamed
so
much
about
little
Hester
Gray
that
she
has
become
strangely
real
to
me
.
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I
think
of
her
,
back
there
in
her
little
garden
in
that
cool
,
still
,
green
corner
;
and
I
have
a
fancy
that
if
I
could
steal
back
there
some
spring
evening
,
just
at
the
magic
time
twixt
light
and
dark
,
and
tiptoe
so
softly
up
the
beech
hill
that
my
footsteps
could
not
frighten
her
,
I
would
find
the
garden
just
as
it
used
to
be
,
all
sweet
with
June
lilies
and
early
roses
,
with
the
tiny
house
beyond
it
all
hung
with
vines
;
and
little
Hester
Gray
would
be
there
,
with
her
soft
eyes
,
and
the
wind
ruffling
her
dark
hair
,
wandering
about
,
putting
her
fingertips
under
the
chins
of
the
lilies
and
whispering
secrets
with
the
roses
;
and
I
would
go
forward
,
oh
,
so
softly
,
and
hold
out
my
hands
and
say
to
her
,
Little
Hester
Gray
,
won
t
you
let
me
be
your
playmate
,
for
I
love
the
roses
too
?
And
we
would
sit
down
on
the
old
bench
and
talk
a
little
and
dream
a
little
,
or
just
be
beautifully
silent
together
.
And
then
the
moon
would
rise
and
I
would
look
around
me
.
.
.
and
there
would
be
no
Hester
Gray
and
no
little
vine
-
hung
house
,
and
no
roses
.
.
.
only
an
old
waste
garden
starred
with
June
lilies
amid
the
grasses
,
and
the
wind
sighing
,
oh
,
so
sorrowfully
in
the
cherry
trees
.
And
I
would
not
know
whether
it
had
been
real
or
if
I
had
just
imagined
it
all
.
Diana
crawled
up
and
got
her
back
against
the
headboard
of
the
bed
.
When
your
companion
of
twilight
hour
said
such
spooky
things
it
was
just
as
well
not
to
be
able
to
fancy
there
was
anything
behind
you
.
I
m
afraid
the
Improvement
Society
will
go
down
when
you
and
Gilbert
are
both
gone
,
she
remarked
dolefully
.
Not
a
bit
of
fear
of
it
,
said
Anne
briskly
,
coming
back
from
dreamland
to
the
affairs
of
practical
life
.
It
is
too
firmly
established
for
that
,
especially
since
the
older
people
are
becoming
so
enthusiastic
about
it
.
Look
what
they
are
doing
this
summer
for
their
lawns
and
lanes
.
Besides
,
I
ll
be
watching
for
hints
at
Redmond
and
I
ll
write
a
paper
for
it
next
winter
and
send
it
over
.
Don
t
take
such
a
gloomy
view
of
things
,
Diana
.
And
don
t
grudge
me
my
little
hour
of
gladness
and
jubilation
now
.
Later
on
,
when
I
have
to
go
away
,
I
ll
feel
anything
but
glad
.