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Anya from Prince Edward Island
"
Harvest
is
ended
and
summer
is
gone
,
"
quoted
Anne
Shirley
,
gazing
across
the
shorn
fields
dreamily
.
She
and
Diana
Barry
had
been
picking
apples
in
the
Green
Gables
orchard
,
but
were
now
resting
from
their
labors
in
a
sunny
corner
,
where
airy
fleets
of
thistledown
drifted
by
on
the
wings
of
a
wind
that
was
still
summer-sweet
with
the
incense
of
ferns
in
the
Haunted
Wood
.
But
everything
in
the
landscape
around
them
spoke
of
autumn
.
The
sea
was
roaring
hollowly
in
the
distance
,
the
fields
were
bare
and
sere
,
scarfed
with
golden
rod
,
the
brook
valley
below
Green
Gables
overflowed
with
asters
of
ethereal
purple
,
and
the
Lake
of
Shining
Waters
was
blue
--
blue
--
blue
;
not
the
changeful
blue
of
spring
,
nor
the
pale
azure
of
summer
,
but
a
clear
,
steadfast
,
serene
blue
,
as
if
the
water
were
past
all
moods
and
tenses
of
emotion
and
had
settled
down
to
a
tranquility
unbroken
by
fickle
dreams
.
"
It
has
been
a
nice
summer
,
"
said
Diana
,
twisting
the
new
ring
on
her
left
hand
with
a
smile
.
"
And
Miss
Lavendar
's
wedding
seemed
to
come
as
a
sort
of
crown
to
it
.
I
suppose
Mr.
and
Mrs.
Irving
are
on
the
Pacific
coast
now
.
"
"
It
seems
to
me
they
have
been
gone
long
enough
to
go
around
the
world
,
"
sighed
Anne
.
"
I
ca
n't
believe
it
is
only
a
week
since
they
were
married
.
Everything
has
changed
.
Miss
Lavendar
and
Mr.
and
Mrs.
Allan
gone
--
how
lonely
the
manse
looks
with
the
shutters
all
closed
!
I
went
past
it
last
night
,
and
it
made
me
feel
as
if
everybody
in
it
had
died
.
"
"
We
'll
never
get
another
minister
as
nice
as
Mr.
Allan
,
"
said
Diana
,
with
gloomy
conviction
.
"
I
suppose
we
'll
have
all
kinds
of
supplies
this
winter
,
and
half
the
Sundays
no
preaching
at
all
.
And
you
and
Gilbert
gone
--
it
will
be
awfully
dull
.
"
"
Fred
will
be
here
,
"
insinuated
Anne
slyly
.
"
When
is
Mrs.
Lynde
going
to
move
up
?
"
asked
Diana
,
as
if
she
had
not
heard
Anne
's
remark
.
"
Tomorrow
.
I
'm
glad
she
's
coming
--
but
it
will
be
another
change
.
Marilla
and
I
cleared
everything
out
of
the
spare
room
yesterday
.
Do
you
know
,
I
hated
to
do
it
?
Of
course
,
it
was
silly
--
but
it
did
seem
as
if
we
were
committing
sacrilege
.
That
old
spare
room
has
always
seemed
like
a
shrine
to
me
.
When
I
was
a
child
I
thought
it
the
most
wonderful
apartment
in
the
world
.
You
remember
what
a
consuming
desire
I
had
to
sleep
in
a
spare
room
bed
--
but
not
the
Green
Gables
spare
room
.
Oh
,
no
,
never
there
!
It
would
have
been
too
terrible
--
I
could
n't
have
slept
a
wink
from
awe
.
I
never
WALKED
through
that
room
when
Marilla
sent
me
in
on
an
errand
--
no
,
indeed
,
I
tiptoed
through
it
and
held
my
breath
,
as
if
I
were
in
church
,
and
felt
relieved
when
I
got
out
of
it
.
The
pictures
of
George
Whitefield
and
the
Duke
of
Wellington
hung
there
,
one
on
each
side
of
the
mirror
,
and
frowned
so
sternly
at
me
all
the
time
I
was
in
,
especially
if
I
dared
peep
in
the
mirror
,
which
was
the
only
one
in
the
house
that
did
n't
twist
my
face
a
little
.
I
always
wondered
how
Marilla
dared
houseclean
that
room
.
And
now
it
's
not
only
cleaned
but
stripped
bare
.
George
Whitefield
and
the
Duke
have
been
relegated
to
the
upstairs
hall
.
