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- Люси Мод Монтгомери
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- Аня из Авонлеи
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- Стр. 51/198
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“
But
Avonlea
’
s
blue
hall
will
be
a
byword
in
all
the
neighboring
settlements
from
this
time
out
,
”
said
Anne
bitterly
.
And
it
must
be
confessed
that
it
was
.
Anne
,
walking
home
from
school
through
the
Birch
Path
one
November
afternoon
,
felt
convinced
afresh
that
life
was
a
very
wonderful
thing
.
The
day
had
been
a
good
day
;
all
had
gone
well
in
her
little
kingdom
.
St
.
Clair
Donnell
had
not
fought
any
of
the
other
boys
over
the
question
of
his
name
;
Prillie
Rogerson
’
s
face
had
been
so
puffed
up
from
the
effects
of
toothache
that
she
did
not
once
try
to
coquette
with
the
boys
in
her
vicinity
.
Barbara
Shaw
had
met
with
only
ONE
accident
.
.
.
spilling
a
dipper
of
water
over
the
floor
.
.
.
and
Anthony
Pye
had
not
been
in
school
at
all
.
“
What
a
nice
month
this
November
has
been
!
”
said
Anne
,
who
had
never
quite
got
over
her
childish
habit
of
talking
to
herself
.
“
November
is
usually
such
a
disagreeable
month
.
.
.
as
if
the
year
had
suddenly
found
out
that
she
was
growing
old
and
could
do
nothing
but
weep
and
fret
over
it
.
This
year
is
growing
old
gracefully
.
.
.
just
like
a
stately
old
lady
who
knows
she
can
be
charming
even
with
gray
hair
and
wrinkles
.
We
’
ve
had
lovely
days
and
delicious
twilights
.
This
last
fortnight
has
been
so
peaceful
,
and
even
Davy
has
been
almost
well
-
behaved
.
I
really
think
he
is
improving
a
great
deal
.
How
quiet
the
woods
are
today
.
.
.
not
a
murmur
except
that
soft
wind
purring
in
the
treetops
!
It
sounds
like
surf
on
a
faraway
shore
.
How
dear
the
woods
are
!
You
beautiful
trees
!
I
love
every
one
of
you
as
a
friend
.
”
Anne
paused
to
throw
her
arm
about
a
slim
young
birch
and
kiss
its
cream
-
white
trunk
.
Diana
,
rounding
a
curve
in
the
path
,
saw
her
and
laughed
.
“
Anne
Shirley
,
you
’
re
only
pretending
to
be
grown
up
.
I
believe
when
you
’
re
alone
you
’
re
as
much
a
little
girl
as
you
ever
were
.
”
“
Well
,
one
can
’
t
get
over
the
habit
of
being
a
little
girl
all
at
once
,
”
said
Anne
gaily
.
“
You
see
,
I
was
little
for
fourteen
years
and
I
’
ve
only
been
grown
-
uppish
for
scarcely
three
.
I
’
m
sure
I
shall
always
feel
like
a
child
in
the
woods
.
These
walks
home
from
school
are
almost
the
only
time
I
have
for
dreaming
.
.
.
except
the
half
-
hour
or
so
before
I
go
to
sleep
.
I
’
m
so
busy
with
teaching
and
studying
and
helping
Marilla
with
the
twins
that
I
haven
’
t
another
moment
for
imagining
things
.
You
don
’
t
know
what
splendid
adventures
I
have
for
a
little
while
after
I
go
to
bed
in
the
east
gable
every
night
.
I
always
imagine
I
’
m
something
very
brilliant
and
triumphant
and
splendid
.
.
.
a
great
prima
donna
or
a
Red
Cross
nurse
or
a
queen
.
Last
night
I
was
a
queen
.
It
’
s
really
splendid
to
imagine
you
are
a
queen
.
You
have
all
the
fun
of
it
without
any
of
the
inconveniences
and
you
can
stop
being
a
queen
whenever
you
want
to
,
which
you
couldn
’
t
in
real
life
.
But
here
in
the
woods
I
like
best
to
imagine
quite
different
things
.
.
.
I
’
m
a
dryad
living
in
an
old
pine
,
or
a
little
brown
wood
-
elf
hiding
under
a
crinkled
leaf
.
That
white
birch
you
caught
me
kissing
is
a
sister
of
mine
.
The
only
difference
is
,
she
’
s
a
tree
and
I
’
m
a
girl
,
but
that
’
s
no
real
difference
.
Where
are
you
going
,
Diana
?
”
“
Down
to
the
Dicksons
.
I
promised
to
help
Alberta
cut
out
her
new
dress
.
Can
’
t
you
walk
down
in
the
evening
,
Anne
,
and
come
home
with
me
?
”
“
I
might
.
.
.
