rse. She has never hankered after dancing. Somebody told Faith
there would be a taffy-pull in the kitchen for those who didn't dance
and you should have seen the face she made. She and Jem will sit out on
the rocks most of the evening, I suppose. Did you know that we are all
to walk down as far as that little creek below the old House of Dreams
and then sail to the lighthouse? Won't it just be absolutely divine?"

"When I was fifteen I talked in italics and superlatives too," said
Miss Oliver sarcastically. "I think the party promises to be pleasant
for young fry. I expect to be bored. None of those boys will bother
dancing with an old maid like me. Jem and Walter will take me out once
out of charity. So you can't expect me to look forward to it with your
touching young rapture."

"Didn't you have a good time at your first party, though, Miss Oliver?"

"No. I had a hateful time. I was shabby and homely and nobody asked me
to dance except one boy, homelier and shabbier than myself. He was so
awkward I hated him--and even he didn't ask me again. I had no real
girlhood, Rilla. It's a sad loss. That's why I want you to have a
splendid, happy girlhood. And I hope your first party will be one
you'll remember all your life with pleasure."

"I dreamed last night I was at the dance and right in the middle of
things I discovered I was dressed in my kimono and bedroom shoes,"
sighed Rilla. "I woke up with a gasp of horror."

"Speaking of dreams--I had an odd one," said Miss Oliver absently. "It
was one of those vivid dreams I sometimes have--they are not the vague
jumble of ordinary dreams--they are as clear cut and real as life."

"What was your dream?"

"I was standing on the veranda steps, here at Ingleside, looking down
over the fields of the Glen. All at once, far in the distance, I saw a
long, silvery, glistening wave breaking over them. It came nearer and
nearer--just a succession of little white waves like those that break
on the sandshore sometimes. The Glen was being swallowed up. I thought,
'Surely the waves will not come near Ingleside'--but they came nearer
and nearer--so rapidly--before I could move or call they were breaking
right at my feet--and everything was gone--there was nothing but a
waste of stormy water where the Glen had been. I tried to draw
back--and I saw that the edge of my dress was wet with blood--and I
woke--shivering. I don't like the dream. There was some sinister
significance in it. That k