handwork; and the little frills of lace at neck and sleeves were of
real Valenciennes. Lying on it was a card--"with Leslie's love."

"What hours of work she must have put on it," said Anne. "And the
material must have cost more than she could really afford. It is very
sweet of her."

But Leslie was brusque and curt when Anne thanked her, and again the
latter felt thrown back upon herself.

Leslie's gift was not alone in the little house. Miss Cornelia had,
for the time being, given up sewing for unwanted, unwelcome eighth
babies, and fallen to sewing for a very much wanted first one, whose
welcome would leave nothing to be desired. Philippa Blake and Diana
Wright each sent a marvellous garment; and Mrs. Rachel Lynde sent
several, in which good material and honest stitches took the place of
embroidery and frills. Anne herself made many, desecrated by no touch
of machinery, spending over them the happiest hours of the happy winter.

Captain Jim was the most frequent guest of the little house, and none
was more welcome. Every day Anne loved the simple-souled, true-hearted
old sailor more and more. He was as refreshing as a sea breeze, as
interesting as some ancient chronicle. She was never tired of
listening to his stories, and his quaint remarks and comments were a
continual delight to her. Captain Jim was one of those rare and
interesting people who "never speak but they say something." The milk
of human kindness and the wisdom of the serpent were mingled in his
composition in delightful proportions.

Nothing ever seemed to put Captain Jim out or depress him in any way.

"I've kind of contracted a habit of enj'ying things," he remarked once,
when Anne had commented on his invariable cheerfulness. "It's got so
chronic that I believe I even enj'y the disagreeable things. It's
great fun thinking they can't last. 'Old rheumatiz,' says I, when it
grips me hard, 'you've GOT to stop aching sometime. The worse you are
the sooner you'll stop, mebbe. I'm bound to get the better of you in
the long run, whether in the body or out of the body.'"

One night, by the fireside at the light Anne saw Captain Jim's
"life-book." He needed no coaxing to show it and proudly gave it to
her to read.

"I writ it to leave to little Joe," he said. "I don't like the idea of
everything I've done and seen being clean forgot after I've shipped for
my last v'yage. Joe, he'll remember it, and tell the yarns to his
children."