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"
Oh
,
they
're
not
twins
now
,
dear
.
After
they
reached
the
age
of
thirty
they
never
were
twins
again
.
Miss
Hannah
has
grown
old
,
not
too
gracefully
,
and
Miss
Ada
has
stayed
thirty
,
less
gracefully
still
.
I
do
n't
know
whether
Miss
Hannah
can
smile
or
not
;
I
've
never
caught
her
at
it
so
far
,
but
Miss
Ada
smiles
all
the
time
and
that
's
worse
.
However
,
they
're
nice
,
kind
souls
,
and
they
take
two
boarders
every
year
because
Miss
Hannah
's
economical
soul
can
not
bear
to
'
waste
room
space
'
--
not
because
they
need
to
or
have
to
,
as
Miss
Ada
has
told
me
seven
times
since
Saturday
night
.
As
for
our
rooms
,
I
admit
they
are
hall
bedrooms
,
and
mine
does
look
out
on
the
back
yard
.
Your
room
is
a
front
one
and
looks
out
on
Old
St.
John
's
graveyard
,
which
is
just
across
the
street
.
"
"
That
sounds
gruesome
,
"
shivered
Anne
.
"
I
think
I
'd
rather
have
the
back
yard
view
.
"
"
Oh
,
no
,
you
would
n't
.
Wait
and
see
.
Old
St.
John
's
is
a
darling
place
.
It
's
been
a
graveyard
so
long
that
it
's
ceased
to
be
one
and
has
become
one
of
the
sights
of
Kingsport
.
I
was
all
through
it
yesterday
for
a
pleasure
exertion
.
There
's
a
big
stone
wall
and
a
row
of
enormous
trees
all
around
it
,
and
rows
of
trees
all
through
it
,
and
the
queerest
old
tombstones
,
with
the
queerest
and
quaintest
inscriptions
.
You
'll
go
there
to
study
,
Anne
,
see
if
you
do
n't
.
Of
course
,
nobody
is
ever
buried
there
now
.
But
a
few
years
ago
they
put
up
a
beautiful
monument
to
the
memory
of
Nova
Scotian
soldiers
who
fell
in
the
Crimean
War
.
It
is
just
opposite
the
entrance
gates
and
there
's
'
scope
for
imagination
'
in
it
,
as
you
used
to
say
.
Here
's
your
trunk
at
last
--
and
the
boys
coming
to
say
good
night
.
Must
I
really
shake
hands
with
Charlie
Sloane
,
Anne
?
His
hands
are
always
so
cold
and
fishy-feeling
.
We
must
ask
them
to
call
occasionally
.
Miss
Hannah
gravely
told
me
we
could
have
'
young
gentlemen
callers
'
two
evenings
in
the
week
,
if
they
went
away
at
a
reasonable
hour
;
and
Miss
Ada
asked
me
,
smiling
,
please
to
be
sure
they
did
n't
sit
on
her
beautiful
cushions
.
I
promised
to
see
to
it
;
but
goodness
knows
where
else
they
CAN
sit
,
unless
they
sit
on
the
floor
,
for
there
are
cushions
on
EVERYTHING
.
Miss
Ada
even
has
an
elaborate
Battenburg
one
on
top
of
the
piano
.
"
Anne
was
laughing
by
this
time
.
Priscilla
's
gay
chatter
had
the
intended
effect
of
cheering
her
up
;
homesickness
vanished
for
the
time
being
,
and
did
not
even
return
in
full
force
when
she
finally
found
herself
alone
in
her
little
bedroom
.
She
went
to
her
window
and
looked
out
.
The
street
below
was
dim
and
quiet
.
Across
it
the
moon
was
shining
above
the
trees
in
Old
St.
John
's
,
just
behind
the
great
dark
head
of
the
lion
on
the
monument
Anne
wondered
if
it
could
have
been
only
that
morning
that
she
had
left
Green
Gables
.
She
had
the
sense
of
a
long
passage
of
time
which
one
day
of
change
and
travel
gives
.
"
I
suppose
that
very
moon
is
looking
down
on
Green
Gables
now
,
"
she
mused
.
"
But
I
wo
n't
think
about
it
--
that
way
homesickness
lies
.
I
'm
not
even
going
to
have
my
good
cry
.
I
'll
put
that
off
to
a
more
convenient
season
,
and
just
now
I
'll
go
calmly
and
sensibly
to
bed
and
to
sleep
.
"
Kingsport
is
a
quaint
old
town
,
hearking
back
to
early
Colonial
days
,
and
wrapped
in
its
ancient
atmosphere
,
as
some
fine
old
dame
in
garments
fashioned
like
those
of
her
youth
.
Here
and
there
it
sprouts
out
into
modernity
,
but
at
heart
it
is
still
unspoiled
;
it
is
full
of
curious
relics
,
and
haloed
by
the
romance
of
many
legends
of
the
past
.
Once
it
was
a
mere
frontier
station
on
the
fringe
of
the
wilderness
,
and
those
were
the
days
when
Indians
kept
life
from
being
monotonous
to
the
settlers
.
Then
it
grew
to
be
a
bone
of
contention
between
the
British
and
the
French
,
being
occupied
now
by
the
one
and
now
by
the
other
,
emerging
from
each
occupation
with
some
fresh
scar
of
battling
nations
branded
on
it
.
It
has
in
its
park
a
martello
tower
,
autographed
all
over
by
tourists
,
a
dismantled
old
French
fort
on
the
hills
beyond
the
town
,
and
several
antiquated
cannon
in
its
public
squares
.
It
has
other
historic
spots
also
,
which
may
be
hunted
out
by
the
curious
,
and
none
is
more
quaint
and
delightful
than
Old
St.
John
's
Cemetery
at
the
very
core
of
the
town
,
with
streets
of
quiet
,
old-time
houses
on
two
sides
,
and
busy
,
bustling
,
modern
thoroughfares
on
the
others
.
Every
citizen
of
Kingsport
feels
a
thrill
of
possessive
pride
in
Old
St.
John
's
,
for
,
if
he
be
of
any
pretensions
at
all
,
he
has
an
ancestor
buried
there
,
with
a
queer
,
crooked
slab
at
his
head
,
or
else
sprawling
protectively
over
the
grave
,
on
which
all
the
main
facts
of
his
history
are
recorded
.
For
the
most
part
no
great
art
or
skill
was
lavished
on
those
old
tombstones
.
The
larger
number
are
of
roughly
chiselled
brown
or
gray
native
stone
,
and
only
in
a
few
cases
is
there
any
attempt
at
ornamentation
.
Some
are
adorned
with
skull
and
cross-bones
,
and
this
grizzly
decoration
is
frequently
coupled
with
a
cherub
's
head
.
Many
are
prostrate
and
in
ruins
.
Into
almost
all
Time
's
tooth
has
been
gnawing
,
until
some
inscriptions
have
been
completely
effaced
,
and
others
can
only
be
deciphered
with
difficulty
.
The
graveyard
is
very
full
and
very
bowery
,
for
it
is
surrounded
and
intersected
by
rows
of
elms
and
willows
,
beneath
whose
shade
the
sleepers
must
lie
very
dreamlessly
,
forever
crooned
to
by
the
winds
and
leaves
over
them
,
and
quite
undisturbed
by
the
clamor
of
traffic
just
beyond
.
