hear the stories she can tell. Then there are the Twin Sailors.
They don't live anywhere, they sail all the time, but they often

come ashore to talk to me. They are a pair of jolly tars and they
have seen everything in the world. . .and more than what is in the

world. Do you know what happened to the youngest Twin Sailor
once? He was sailing and he sailed right into a moonglade. A

moonglade is the track the full moon makes on the water when it is
rising from the sea, you know, teacher. Well, the youngest Twin

Sailor sailed along the moonglade till he came right up to the
moon, and there was a little golden door in the moon and he opened

it and sailed right through. He had some wonderful adventures in
the moon but it would make this letter too long to tell them.

Then there is the Golden Lady of the cave. One day I found a big
cave down on the shore and I went away in and after a while I found

the Golden Lady. She has golden hair right down to her feet and
her dress is all glittering and glistening like gold that is alive.

And she has a golden harp and plays on it all day long. . .you can
hear the music any time along shore if you listen carefully but

most people would think it was only the wind among the rocks.
I've never told Nora about the Golden Lady. I was afraid it

might hurt her feelings. It even hurt her feelings if I talked
too long with the Twin Sailors.

I always met the Twin Sailors at the Striped Rocks. The youngest
Twin Sailor is very good-tempered but the oldest Twin Sailor can

look dreadfullyfierce at times. I have my suspicions about that
oldest Twin. I believe he'd be a pirate if he dared. There's really

something very mysterious about him. He swore once and I told him
if he ever did it again he needn't come ashore to talk to me because

I'd promised grandmother I'd never associate with anybody that swore.
He was pretty well scared, I can tell you, and he said if I would

forgive him he would take me to the sunset. So the next evening
when I was sitting on the Striped Rocks the oldest Twin came

sailing over the sea in an enchanted boat and I got in her. The
boat was all pearly and rainbowy, like the inside of the mussel

shells, and her sail was like moonshine. Well, we sailed right
across to the sunset. Think of that, teacher, I've been in the

sunset. And what do you suppose it is? The sunset is a land
all flowers. We sailed into a great garden, and the clouds are beds

of flowers. We sailed into a great harbor, all the color of gold,
and I stepped right out of the boat on a big meadow all covered with

buttercups as big as roses. I stayed there for ever so long. It
seemed nearly a year but the Oldest Twin says it was only a few

minutes. You see, in the sunset land the time is ever so much
longer than it is here.

Your loving pupil
Paul Irving.

P. S. of course, this letter isn't really true, teacher.
P.I.'"

XII
A Jonah Day

It really began the night before with a restless, wakeful vigil of
grumbling toothache. When Anne arose in the dull, bitter winter

morning she felt that life was flat, stale, and unprofitable.
She went to school in no angelic mood. Her cheek was swollen and

her face ached. The schoolroom was cold and smoky, for the fire
refused to burn and the children were huddled about it in shivering

groups. Anne sent them to their seats with a sharper tone than she
had ever used before. Anthony Pye strutted to his with his usual

impertinent swagger and she saw him whisper something to his
seat-mate and then glance at her with a grin.

Never, so it seemed to Anne, had there been so many squeaky pencils
as there were that morning; and when Barbara Shaw came up to the

desk with a sum she tripped over the coal scuttle with disastrous
results. The coal rolled to every part of the room, her slate was

broken into fragments, and when she picked herself up, her face,
stained with coal dust, sent the boys into roars of laughter.

Anne turned from the second reader class which she was hearing.
"Really, Barbara," she said icily, "if you cannot move without

falling over something you'd better remain in your seat. It is
positively disgraceful for a girl of your age to be so awkward."

Poor Barbara stumbled back to her desk, her tears combining with
the coal dust to produce an effect truly grotesque. Never before

had her beloved, sympathetic teacher spoken to her in such a tone
or fashion, and Barbara was heartbroken. Anne herself felt a prick

of conscience but it only served to increase her mental irritation,
and the second reader class remember that lesson yet, as well as

the unmerciful infliction of arithmetic that followed. Just as Anne
was snapping the sums out St. Clair Donnell arrived breathlessly.

"You are half an hour late, St. Clair," Anne reminded him frigidly.
"Why is this?"

"Please, miss, I had to help ma make a pudding for dinner
'cause we're expecting company and Clarice Almira's sick,"

was St. Clair's answer, given in a perfectlyrespectful voice
but nevertheless provocative of great mirth among his mates.

"Take your seat and work out the six problems on page eighty-four
of your arithmetic for punishment," said Anne. St. Clair looked

rather amazed at her tone but he went meekly to his desk and took
out his slate. Then he stealthily passed a small parcel to Joe

Sloane across the aisle. Anne caught him in the act and jumped to
a fatal conclusion about that parcel.

Old Mrs. Hiram Sloane had lately taken to making and selling
"nut cakes" by way of adding to her scantyincome. The cakes were

specially tempting to small boys and for several weeks Anne had had
not a little trouble in regard to them. On their way to school the

boys would invest their spare cash at Mrs. Hiram's, bring the cakes
along with them to school, and, if possible, eat them and treat

their mates during school hours. Anne had warned them that if
they brought any more cakes to school they would be confiscated;

and yet here was St. Clair Donnell coolly passing a parcel of them,
wrapped up in the blue and white striped paper Mrs. Hiram used,

under her very eyes.
"Joseph," said Anne quietly, "bring that parcel here."

Joe, startled and abashed, obeyed. He was a fat urchin who always
blushed and stuttered when he was frightened. Never did anybody

look more guilty than poor Joe at that moment.
"Throw it into the fire," said Anne.

Joe looked very blank.
"P. . .p. . .p. . .lease, m. . .m. . .miss," he began.

"Do as I tell you, Joseph, without any words about it."
"B. . .b. . .but m. . .m. . .miss. . .th. . .th. . .they're. . ."

gasped Joe in desperation.
"Joseph, are you going to obey me or are you NOT?" said Anne.

A bolder and more self-possessed lad than Joe Sloane would have
been overawed by her tone and the dangerous flash of her eyes.

This was a new Anne whom none of her pupils had ever seen before.
Joe, with an agonized glance at St. Clair, went to the stove,

opened the big, square front door, and threw the blue and white
parcel in, before St. Clair, who had sprung to his feet, could

utter a word. Then he dodged back just in time.
For a few moments the terrified occupants of Avonlea school did not

know whether it was an earthquake or a volcanicexplosion that had
occurred. The innocent looking parcel which Anne had rashly

supposed to contain Mrs. Hiram's nut cakes really held an
assortment of firecrackers and pinwheels for which Warren Sloane

had sent to town by St. Clair Donnell's father the day before,
intending to have a birthday celebration that evening. The

crackers went off in a thunderclap of noise and the pinwheels
bursting out of the door spun madly around the room, hissing and