Further Chronicles of Avonlea

a tremulous mosaic upon Mrs. Eben Andrews' spotless kitchen floor. Through the open door, a wind, fragrant from long wanderings over orchards a

-blown peony cheeks and large, dreamy, brown eyes. When she had been a slim, pink-and-white girl those eyes

he window, was a thin little woman, with a very sharp nose and light, faded blue eyes.

self a second time to Mrs. Eben's matchless black fruit cake, and thereby

suits her. Of course it's a long walk there and back. I think it would have been wiser for her to keep on boarding at Mor

at Sara had made up her mind to take Lige Baxter at last, and that they were to be married in the fall

r she had. I'm sure it's not MY fault. I've talked and argued till I'm tired. I declare to you, Amel

sh girl," said Mrs.

't good enough

spoken of by every one. And that lovely new house of his at Newbridge, with bay wind

took a hopeful view of everything, even of Sara's contrarine

y Andrews in Avonlea had been trying for two years to bring about a m

looked with a faintly amused air at her aunts. She knew quite well that they had been discussing her, for Mrs. Jonas, who c

d a little jelly-pot of the apricot preserves Sara liked, and she cut some more fruit cake for her in moist plummy slices. She might be out

ich made people look at her twice. She was very dark, with a rich, dusky sort of

rom Newbridge, and told amusing little stories of her day's work that made the two ol

d the remaining contents of

ssy," she said as

could he have when Sara was home-out he must go. Well, a little spell ago he got his leg broke accidentally and we thought he'd have to be killed. But Sara wouldn't hear of it. She got splints and set his leg just as knacky, and bandag

ing calf that got poisoned with paris gree

econcile herself to the destruction of her ai

ike Lige? I'm sure he

his perfections. I know them all off by heart. He doesn't drink, he doesn't smoke, he doesn't steal, he doesn't tell fibs, he never loses his temper, he doesn't swear, and he goes to

some. Mrs. Eben had intended it for part of Sara's "setting out," and, while she sewed the red-and-white diamonds together, she had regaled her fancy by imagining she saw it spread out on the spare-room bed of th

ds were ranged around the quilt, and tongues and fingers flew. Sara flitted about, helping her aunt with the suppe

. Every woman around the "Rising Star" felt that Mrs. George had some news worth listening to, a

id green eyes. As she looked around the circle she had th

aid, "that you hav

uffy, smoking-hot soda biscuits in her hand. Sara stopped counting the custard dishes, and turned her ripely-colored face over her sho

aid, her green eyes shooting out fla

nce her hearers were as yet spee

d me down with a feather. I should have thought that firm was as steady as the Rock of Gib

he closet where Sara had struck the edge of her tray against a shelf. The sound seemed to loosen the paralyzed tongues,

crash, and so will a good many folks. Everything will have to go-Peter Baxter's farm and Lige's grand new house. Mrs. Peter won't

lame for the failure

he did not like

been speculating with other folks' money, and this is the result. Everybody always suspected that Peter was crook

w anything about it," sai

"He should have kept watch on Peter and found out how the business was being run. Well, Sara, you were the level-headest of us all-I'll adm

iously. "Most of the Newbridge folks think it's all Peter's fault, and that Lige isn't to blame. But you can't t

hel Lynde's chair, resting her shapely hands on that lady's broad shoulders. Her face was very pale, but her flas

ou all know perfectly well that Lige is as honest as the day, if he IS so unfortunate as to have an unprincipled brother. You, Mrs. Pye, know it better than any one, yet you co

d. Nothing more was said until Sara had picked up her glasses and marched from the room. Even then they dared not speak

high carnival in Avonlea and Newbridge, and M

up so terrible. She used to declare that she hated Lige, and now she won't listen to a word against him. Not that

drews came in with a

pe clean and clever. He don't seem to worry any, but Lige looks like a walking skeleton. Some folks pity him, but I say he should have kept the run of things better and not have trusted everything to Peter. I hear

e black cat slip from her lap to the floor. Mrs. Eben glanced at her apprehensively, for

l she snatched a scarf from the wall, flung open the front door, and rushed down the lane in the chill, pure ai

along the skirts of ruinous, dusky pine woods, curtained with fine spun purple gloom. Her dress brushed against the br

was bound with willow withes, and, as Sara fumbled vainly at them with her chilled

said, with somet

ey walked through the lane where lissome boughs of young saplings flicke

nce I've seen you, Li

ully down at her

pring. And you know things have been going against me. People have said hard things. I've been unfortunat

did-not for a min

when you refused to marry me, Sara; but it's well that you didn

y cast a dim light into the shadow where they stood. Above it was a new moon, like a gleaming silver s

softly, "do you

do," said

ment she nestled into his arms, and laid he

. Mrs. Jonas puffed and panted up the hill to learn if it were true. She found Mrs. Eben stitching for dear life on an "Irish Chain" quilt, while Sara was sewing the d

out on those prairies, you'll need piles of quilts, and you shall have

ara h

n sent Sara off to the post-of

true, this time?

luded to make the best of it. I'm no turn-coat. Lige Baxter is Lige Baxter still, neither more nor less. I've always said he'

heaved a si

though Mrs. Harmon would take my head off if she heard me say so. I always like

's way. When any creature got sick or unfortunate she seemed to take it right