lying beside Walter now with nose snuggled against his arm, thumping
his tail rapturously whenever Walter gave him an absent pat. Monday was
not a collie or a setter or a hound or a Newfoundland. He was just, as
Jem said, "plain dog"--very plain dog, uncharitable people added.
Certainly, Monday's looks were not his strong point. Black spots were
scattered at random over his yellow carcass, one of them, apparently,
blotting out an eye. His ears were in tatters, for Monday was never
successful in affairs of honour. But he possessed one talisman. He knew
that not all dogs could be handsome or eloquent or victorious, but that
every dog could love. Inside his homely hide beat the most
affectionate, loyal, faithful heart of any dog since dogs were; and
something looked out of his brown eyes that was nearer akin to a soul
than any theologian would allow. Everybody at Ingleside was fond of
him, even Susan, although his one unfortunate propensity of sneaking
into the spare room and going to sleep on the bed tried her affection
sorely.

On this particular afternoon Rilla had no quarrel on hand with existing
conditions.

"Hasn't June been a delightful month?" she asked, looking dreamily afar
at the little quiet silvery clouds hanging so peacefully over Rainbow
Valley. "We've had such lovely times--and such lovely weather. It has
just been perfect every way."

"I don't half like that," said Miss Oliver, with a sigh. "It's
ominous--somehow. A perfect thing is a gift of the gods--a sort of
compensation for what is coming afterwards. I've seen that so often
that I don't care to hear people say they've had a perfect time. June
has been delightful, though."

"Of course, it hasn't been very exciting," said Rilla. "The only
exciting thing that has happened in the Glen for a year was old Miss
Mead fainting in Church. Sometimes I wish something dramatic would
happen once in a while."

"Don't wish it. Dramatic things always have a bitterness for some one.
What a nice summer all you gay creatures will have! And me moping at
Lowbridge!"

"You'll be over often, won't you? I think there's going to be lots of
fun this summer, though I'll just be on the fringe of things as usual,
I suppose. Isn't it horrid when people think you're a little girl when
you're not?"

"There's plenty of time for you to be grown up, Rilla. Don't wish your
youth away. It goes too quickly. You'll begin to taste life soon
enough."

"Taste life! I want to eat