said Anne, absently, as the wind blew a scud of snow
against the window. "Oh, dear, will it ever stop storming."

"God knows," said Davy airily, preparing to resume his reading.

Anne WAS shocked this time.

"Davy!" she exclaimed reproachfully.

"Mrs. Lynde says that," protested Davy. "One night last week Marilla
said 'Will Ludovic Speed and Theodora Dix EVER get married?" and Mrs.
Lynde said, "'God knows'--just like that."

"Well, it wasn't right for her to say it," said Anne, promptly deciding
upon which horn of this dilemma to empale herself. "It isn't right for
anybody to take that name in vain or speak it lightly, Davy. Don't ever
do it again."

"Not if I say it slow and solemn, like the minister?" queried Davy
gravely.

"No, not even then."

"Well, I won't. Ludovic Speed and Theodora Dix live in Middle Grafton
and Mrs. Rachel says he has been courting her for a hundred years. Won't
they soon be too old to get married, Anne? I hope Gilbert won't court
YOU that long. When are you going to be married, Anne? Mrs. Lynde says
it's a sure thing."

"Mrs. Lynde is a--" began Anne hotly; then stopped. "Awful old gossip,"
completed Davy calmly. "That's what every one calls her. But is it a
sure thing, Anne? I want to know."

"You're a very silly little boy, Davy," said Anne, stalking haughtily
out of the room. The kitchen was deserted and she sat down by the window
in the fast falling wintry twilight. The sun had set and the wind had
died down. A pale chilly moon looked out behind a bank of purple clouds
in the west. The sky faded out, but the strip of yellow along the
western horizon grew brighter and fiercer, as if all the stray gleams
of light were concentrating in one spot; the distant hills, rimmed with
priest-like firs, stood out in dark distinctness against it. Anne looked
across the still, white fields, cold and lifeless in the harsh light of
that grim sunset, and sighed. She was very lonely; and she was sad at
heart; for she was wondering if she would be able to return to Redmond
next year. It did not seem likely. The only scholarship possible in the
Sophomore year was a very small affair. She would not take Marilla's
money; and there seemed little prospect of being able to earn enough in
the summer vacation.

"I suppose I'll just have to drop out next year," she thought drearily,
"and teach a district school again until I earn enough to finish my
course. And by that time all my old class will have gr