t and Amelia think of it. I fancy they will nail
down their windows when they leave home after this!"

CHAPTER XXXIII

VICTORY!

"A day 'of chilling winds and gloomy skies,'" Rilla quoted one Sunday
afternoon--the sixth of October to be exact. It was so cold that they
had lighted a fire in the living-room and the merry little flames were
doing their best to counteract the outside dourness. "It's more like
November than October--November is such an ugly month."

Cousin Sophia was there, having again forgiven Susan, and Mrs. Martin
Clow, who was not visiting on Sunday but had dropped in to borrow
Susan's cure for rheumatism--that being cheaper than getting one from
the doctor. "I'm afeared we're going to have an airly winter,"
foreboded Cousin Sophia. "The muskrats are building awful big houses
round the pond, and that's a sign that never fails. Dear me, how that
child has grown!" Cousin Sophia sighed again, as if it were an unhappy
circumstance that a child should grow. "When do you expect his father?"

"Next week," said Rilla.

"Well, I hope the stepmother won't abuse the pore child," sighed Cousin
Sophia, "but I have my doubts--I have my doubts. Anyhow, he'll be sure
to feel the difference between his usage here and what he'll get
anywhere else. You've spoiled him so, Rilla, waiting on him hand and
foot the way you've always done."

Rilla smiled and pressed her cheek to Jims' curls. She knew
sweet-tempered, sunny, little Jims was not spoiled. Nevertheless her
heart was anxious behind her smile. She, too, thought much about the
new Mrs. Anderson and wondered uneasily what she would be like.

"I can't give Jims up to a woman who won't love him," she thought
rebelliously.

"I b'lieve it's going to rain," said Cousin Sophia. "We have had an
awful lot of rain this fall already. It's going to make it awful hard
for people to get their roots in. It wasn't so in my young days. We
gin'rally had beautiful Octobers then. But the seasons is altogether
different now from what they used to be." Clear across Cousin Sophia's
doleful voice cut the telephone bell. Gertrude Oliver answered it.
"Yes--what? What? Is it true--is it official? Thank you--thank you."

Gertrude turned and faced the room dramatically, her dark eyes
flashing, her dark face flushed with feeling. All at once the sun broke
through the thick clouds and poured through the big crimson maple
outside the window. Its reflected glow enveloped her in a weird