Further Chronicles of Avonlea

reat deal of time with them. We became acquainted with many of the Grafton people whom we had not known before, and among others, the family of Mr. Mack Leith. We often went up to the Leit

ted to sit with us and talk to us, when we would much rather have been somewhere else. We often fel

e couldn't like her. She really was fussy and meddlesome; she liked to poke a finger into every one's pie, and she was not at all tactful. Then, too, she had a sarca

ite featureless; and her hair was scanty and gray. She walked with a waddle, just like Mrs. Rachel Lynde, and she was always rather short of breath. It was hard to belie

is impossible,"

was dead and buried before Diana and I heard of it at all. The first I knew of it was when I came home from Orchard Slope one day and found a queer, shabby little black horsehair trunk, all studded with brass

what am I to do with it?

g-but you're always getting mixed up in queer proceedings, Anne. As for what is in it, the easiest way to find out, I reckon, is to open it and see. The key is tied to it. Jack said Miss Emily sai

with me. I hadn't received any instructions about keeping its contents secret a

ll. When we went up to my room the wind was rising and whistling through the boughs of the big old

box. The box was tied up and the knots sealed with wax. We lifted it out and untied it. I to

with a little darker blue flower in it. Under it we found a sash, a yellowed feather fan,

the fly leaf was written, in a very delicate hand, "Emily Margaret Leith," and the same writing covered the first few pages of the book. The rest we

19,

slin dress before-nothing but ugly prints and dark woolens. I wish we were rich, like Aunt Margaret. Aunt Margaret laughed when I said this, and declared she would give all her wealth for my youth and beauty and light-heartedness. I am only eighteen and I know I am very merry but I wonder if I am really pretty. It seems to me that I am when I look in A

ne

not been able to keep from thinking about him ever since, and to-day he came over here and asked if he could paint me. I felt very much flattered and so pleased when Aunt Margaret gave him permission. He says he wants to paint me as "Spring," standing under the popl

nd came off with fourteen chickens, and that pa has sold the little sp

ly

tty in it, although he persists in saying he can't do me justice. He is going to send it to s

explains them so nicely and is so patient with my stupidity. And he says any one with my eyes and hair and coloring does not need to be clever. He says

lk at all, but I never find the time long. Indeed, the minutes just seem to fly-and then the moon will come

ly

appiness. Oh, I didn't think life coul

ever and well-educated enough for a wife for Paul. Because, of course, I'm only an ignorant little country girl and have lived all my life on a farm. Why, my hands are quite rough yet from th

he will take me to Europe. That will be very ni

shionable. I am frightened of them, but I did not tell Paul so becaus

think if I loved anybody I would want him to do everything for me and wait on me as if I were a princess. But t

ust

, it is so lonesome. I didn't cry when he left me because I wanted him to remember me smiling in the way he liked best, but I have been crying ever since and I can't stop, no matter how hard I try. We have had such a beautiful f

ust

d. But no, it can't be,

of her if she had been. As it was, I felt that I couldn't say a word. She is very beautiful and stately and wond

hat Paul was infatuated with my youth and beauty but that it would not last and what else had I to give him? She said Paul must marry a woman of his own class, wh

she smiled and said I must tell him myself, because he would not believe any one else. I could have begged her to spare me that

it to please her, but for Paul's sake, because I would not spoil his

I did not know any one

ust

etters and tore them up, because I felt sure they wouldn't convince Paul. At last I got one that I thought would do. I knew I must make it seem as if I were very frivolous and heartless, or he would never believe. I spelled some words wrong and put in some m

oil his life. His mother told me I would be a millstone around his neck. I love Paul so much that I would do anything rather

rther entry in the little brown book. When we had fi

bed Diana. "I'm so sorry I ever

ave," I said. "I could never ha

of Whittie

d, wayward

prings we ma

ng girl-such a slim, pretty little thing, with big blue eyes and lovely, long, ri

time by my window in silence and thought of many things, u