listener. Please can I go?"
"You'll have to learn to resist the fascination of Idlewhatever-

you-call-it. When I tell you to come in at a certain time I
mean that time and not half an hour later. And you needn't

stop to discourse with sympatheticlisteners on your way, either.
As for the picnic, of course you can go. You're a Sunday-school

scholar, and it's not likely I'd refuse to let you go when all
the other little girls are going."

"But--but," faltered Anne, "Diana says that everybody must take a
basket of things to eat. I can't cook, as you know, Marilla,

and--and--I don't mind going to a picnic without puffed sleeves
so much, but I'd feel terribly humiliated if I had to go without

a basket. It's been preying on my mind ever since Diana told me."
"Well, it needn't prey any longer. I'll bake you a basket."

"Oh, you dear good Marilla. Oh, you are so kind to me. Oh, I'm
so much obliged to you."

Getting through with her "ohs" Anne cast herself into Marilla's
arms and rapturously kissed her sallow cheek. It was the first

time in her whole life that childish lips had voluntarily touched
Marilla's face. Again that sudden sensation of startling

sweetness thrilled her. She was secretlyvastly pleased at
Anne's impulsivecaress, which was probably the reason why she

said brusquely:
"There, there, never mind your kissing nonsense. I'd sooner see

you doing strictly as you're told. As for cooking, I mean to
begin giving you lessons in that some of these days. But you're

so featherbrained, Anne, I've been waiting to see if you'd sober
down a little and learn to be steady before I begin. You've got

to keep your wits about you in cooking and not stop in the middle
of things to let your thoughts rove all over creation. Now, get

out your patchwork and have your square done before teatime."
"I do NOT like patchwork," said Anne dolefully, hunting out her

workbasket and sitting down before a little heap of red and white
diamonds with a sigh. "I think some kinds of sewing would be

nice; but there's no scope for imagination in patchwork. It's
just one little seam after another and you never seem to be

getting anywhere. But of course I'd rather be Anne of Green
Gables sewing patchwork than Anne of any other place with nothing

to do but play. I wish time went as quick sewing patches as it
does when I'm playing with Diana, though. Oh, we do have such

elegant times, Marilla. I have to furnish most of the
imagination, but I'm well able to do that. Diana is simply

perfect in every other way. You know that little piece of land
across the brook that runs up between our farm and Mr. Barry's.

It belongs to Mr. William Bell, and right in the corner there is
a little ring of white birch trees--the most romantic spot,

Marilla. Diana and I have our playhouse there. We call it
Idlewild. Isn't that a poetical name? I assure you it took me

some time to think it out. I stayed awake nearly a whole night
before I invented it. Then, just as I was dropping off to sleep,

it came like an inspiration. Diana was ENRAPTURED when she heard
it. We have got our house fixed up elegantly. You must come and

see it, Marilla--won't you? We have great big stones, all
covered with moss, for seats, and boards from tree to tree for

shelves. And we have all our dishes on them. Of course, they're
all broken but it's the easiest thing in the world to imagine

that they are whole. There's a piece of a plate with a spray of
red and yellow ivy on it that is especially beautiful. We keep

it in the parlor and we have the fairy glass there, too. The
fairy glass is as lovely as a dream. Diana found it out in the

woods behind their chicken house. It's all full of
rainbows--just little young rainbows that haven't grown big

yet--and Diana's mother told her it was broken off a hanging lamp
they once had. But it's nice to imagine the fairies lost it one

night when they had a ball, so we call it the fairy glass.
Matthew is going to make us a table. Oh, we have named that

little round pool over in Mr. Barry's field Willowmere. I got
that name out of the book Diana lent me. That was a thrilling

book, Marilla. The heroine had five lovers. I'd be satisfied
with one, wouldn't you? She was very handsome and she went

through great tribulations. She could faint as easy as anything.
I'd love to be able to faint, wouldn't you, Marilla? It's so

romantic. But I'm really very healthy for all I'm so thin.
I believe I'm getting fatter, though. Don't you think I am?

I look at my elbows every morning when I get up to see if any
dimples are coming. Diana is having a new dress made with elbow

sleeves. She is going to wear it to the picnic. Oh, I do hope
it will be fine next Wednesday. I don't feel that I could endure

the disappointment if anything happened to prevent me from
getting to the picnic. I suppose I'd live through it, but I'm

certain it would be a lifelong sorrow. It wouldn't matter if I
got to a hundred picnics in after years; they wouldn't make up

for missing this one. They're going to have boats on the Lake of
Shining Waters--and ice cream, as I told you. I have never

tasted ice cream. Diana tried to explain what it was like, but I
guess ice cream is one of those things that are beyond imagination."

"Anne, you have talked even on for ten minutes by the clock,"
said Marilla. "Now, just for curiosity's sake, see if you can

hold your tongue for the same length of time."
Anne held her tongue as desired. But for the rest of the week

she talked picnic and thought picnic and dreamed picnic. On
Saturday it rained and she worked herself up into such a frantic

state lest it should keep on raining until and over Wednesday
that Marilla made her sew an extra patchwork square by way of

steadying her nerves.
On Sunday Anne confided to Marilla on the way home from church

that she grew actually cold all over with excitement when the
minister announced the picnic from the pulpit.

"Such a thrill as went up and down my back, Marilla! I don't
think I'd ever really believed until then that there was honestly

going to be a picnic. I couldn't help fearing I'd only imagined it.
But when a minister says a thing in the pulpit you just have to

believe it."
"You set your heart too much on things, Anne," said Marilla, with

a sigh. "I'm afraid there'll be a great many disappointments in
store for you through life."

"Oh, Marilla, looking forward to things is half the pleasure of
them," exclaimed Anne. "You mayn't get the things themselves;

but nothing can prevent you from having the fun of looking
forward to them. Mrs. Lynde says, `Blessed are they who expect

nothing for they shall not be disappointed.' But I think it would
be worse to expect nothing than to be disappointed."

Marilla wore her amethyst brooch to church that day as usual.
Marilla always wore her amethyst brooch to church. She would

have thought it rather sacrilegious to leave it off--as bad as
forgetting her Bible or her collection dime. That amethyst

brooch was Marilla's most treasured possession. A seafaring
uncle had given it to her mother who in turn had bequeathed it to

Marilla. It was an old-fashioned oval, containing a braid of her
mother's hair, surrounded by a border of very fine amethysts.

Marilla knew too little about precious stones to realize how fine
the amethysts actually were; but she thought them very beautiful

and was always pleasantlyconscious of their violetshimmer at
her throat, above her good brown satin dress, even although she