erness of her old grievance promptly stiffened up her wavering
determination. That scene of two years before flashed back into her
recollection as vividly as if it had taken place yesterday. Gilbert had
called her "carrots" and had brought about her disgrace before the whole
school. Her resentment, which to other and older people might be as
laughable as its cause, was in no whit allayed and softened by time
seemingly. She hated Gilbert Blythe! She would never forgive him!

"No," she said coldly, "I shall never be friends with you, Gilbert
Blythe; and I don't want to be!"

"All right!" Gilbert sprang into his skiff with an angry color in his
cheeks. "I'll never ask you to be friends again, Anne Shirley. And I
don't care either!"

He pulled away with swift defiant strokes, and Anne went up the steep,
ferny little path under the maples. She held her head very high, but
she was conscious of an odd feeling of regret. She almost wished she had
answered Gilbert differently. Of course, he had insulted her terribly,
but still--! Altogether, Anne rather thought it would be a relief to
sit down and have a good cry. She was really quite unstrung, for the
reaction from her fright and cramped clinging was making itself felt.

Halfway up the path she met Jane and Diana rushing back to the pond in
a state narrowly removed from positive frenzy. They had found nobody at
Orchard Slope, both Mr. and Mrs. Barry being away. Here Ruby Gillis had
succumbed to hysterics, and was left to recover from them as best she
might, while Jane and Diana flew through the Haunted Wood and across the
brook to Green Gables. There they had found nobody either, for Marilla
had gone to Carmody and Matthew was making hay in the back field.

"Oh, Anne," gasped Diana, fairly falling on the former's neck
and weeping with relief and delight, "oh, Anne--we thought--you
were--drowned--and we felt like murderers--because we had made--you
be--Elaine. And Ruby is in hysterics--oh, Anne, how did you escape?"

"I climbed up on one of the piles," explained Anne wearily, "and Gilbert
Blythe came along in Mr. Andrews's dory and brought me to land."

"Oh, Anne, how splendid of him! Why, it's so romantic!" said Jane,
finding breath enough for utterance at last. "Of course you'll speak to
him after this."

"Of course I won't," flashed Anne, with a momentary return of her old
spirit. "And I don't want ever to hear the word 'romantic' again, Jane
Andrews. I'm awfully sorr