't be afraid of her cow, for she would see that the marauding
animal was kept within safe bounds. Even Mr. Harrison chuckled, if he
chuckled at all, in private, and was all sympathy outwardly.

"Never mind, Anne. Most paints fade uglier every year but that blue is
as ugly as it can be to begin with, so it's bound to fade prettier. And
the roof is shingled and painted all right. Folks will be able to sit in
the hall after this without being leaked on. You've accomplished so much
anyhow."

"But Avonlea's blue hall will be a byword in all the neighboring
settlements from this time out," said Anne bitterly.

And it must be confessed that it was.

X

Davy in Search of a Sensation

Anne, walking home from school through the Birch Path one November
afternoon, felt convinced afresh that life was a very wonderful thing.
The day had been a good day; all had gone well in her little kingdom.
St. Clair Donnell had not fought any of the other boys over the question
of his name; Prillie Rogerson's face had been so puffed up from the
effects of toothache that she did not once try to coquette with the
boys in her vicinity. Barbara Shaw had met with only ONE accident . . .
spilling a dipper of water over the floor . . . and Anthony Pye had not
been in school at all.

"What a nice month this November has been!" said Anne, who had never
quite got over her childish habit of talking to herself. "November is
usually such a disagreeable month . . . as if the year had suddenly found
out that she was growing old and could do nothing but weep and fret over
it. This year is growing old gracefully . . . just like a stately old lady
who knows she can be charming even with gray hair and wrinkles. We've
had lovely days and delicious twilights. This last fortnight has been so
peaceful, and even Davy has been almost well-behaved. I really think
he is improving a great deal. How quiet the woods are today . . . not
a murmur except that soft wind purring in the treetops! It sounds like
surf on a faraway shore. How dear the woods are! You beautiful trees! I
love every one of you as a friend."

Anne paused to throw her arm about a slim young birch and kiss its
cream-white trunk. Diana, rounding a curve in the path, saw her and
laughed.

"Anne Shirley, you're only pretending to be grown up. I believe when
you're alone you're as much a little girl as you ever were."

"Well, one can't get over the habit of being a little girl all at once,"