lds. I want to hunt ferns in the Haunted Wood
and gather violets in Violet Vale. Do you remember the day of our golden
picnic, Priscilla? I want to hear the frogs singing and the poplars
whispering. But I've learned to love Kingsport, too, and I'm glad I'm
coming back next fall. If I hadn't won the Thorburn I don't believe I
could have. I COULDN'T take any of Marilla's little hoard."

"If we could only find a house!" sighed Priscilla. "Look over there at
Kingsport, Anne--houses, houses everywhere, and not one for us."

"Stop it, Pris. 'The best is yet to be.' Like the old Roman, we'll find
a house or build one. On a day like this there's no such word as fail in
my bright lexicon."

They lingered in the park until sunset, living in the amazing miracle
and glory and wonder of the springtide; and they went home as usual, by
way of Spofford Avenue, that they might have the delight of looking at
Patty's Place.

"I feel as if something mysterious were going to happen right away--'by
the pricking of my thumbs,'" said Anne, as they went up the slope.
"It's a nice story-bookish feeling. Why--why--why! Priscilla Grant, look
over there and tell me if it's true, or am I seein' things?"

Priscilla looked. Anne's thumbs and eyes had not deceived her. Over the
arched gateway of Patty's Place dangled a little, modest sign. It said
"To Let, Furnished. Inquire Within."

"Priscilla," said Anne, in a whisper, "do you suppose it's possible that
we could rent Patty's Place?"

"No, I don't," averred Priscilla. "It would be too good to be
true. Fairy tales don't happen nowadays. I won't hope, Anne. The
disappointment would be too awful to bear. They're sure to want more for
it than we can afford. Remember, it's on Spofford Avenue."

"We must find out anyhow," said Anne resolutely. "It's too late to call
this evening, but we'll come tomorrow. Oh, Pris, if we can get this
darling spot! I've always felt that my fortunes were linked with Patty's
Place, ever since I saw it first."

Chapter X

Patty's Place

The next evening found them treading resolutely the herring-bone walk
through the tiny garden. The April wind was filling the pine trees with
its roundelay, and the grove was alive with robins--great, plump, saucy
fellows, strutting along the paths. The girls rang rather timidly, and
were admitted by a grim and ancient handmaiden. The door opened directly
into a large living-room, where by a cheery little fire sat two other