Anne's homesickness wore off,
greatly helped in the wearing
by her weekend visits home. As
long as the open weather lasted
the Avonlea students went out
to Carmody on the new branch
railway every Friday night. Diana
and several other Avonlea young
folks were generally on hand
to meet them and they all walked
over to Avonlea in a merry party.
Anne thought those Friday evening
gypsyings over the autumnal hills
in the crisp golden air, with
the homelights of Avonlea twinkling
beyond, were the best and dearest
hours in the whole week.
Gilbert Blythe nearly always
walked with Ruby Gillis and carried
her satchel for her. Ruby was
a very handsome young lady, now
thinking herself quite as grown
up as she really was; she wore
her skirts as long as her mother
would let her and did her hair
up in town, though she had to
take it down when she went home.
She had large, bright-blue eyes,
a brilliant complexion, and a
plump showy figure. She laughed
a great deal, was cheerful and
good-tempered, and enjoyed the
pleasant things of life frankly.
"But I shouldn't think she
was the sort of girl Gilbert
would like," whispered Jane to
Anne. Anne did not think so either,
but she would not have said so
for the Avery scholarship. She
could not help thinking, too,
that it would be very pleasant
to have such a friend as Gilbert
to jest and chatter with and
exchange ideas about books and
studies and ambitions. Gilbert
had ambitions, she knew, and
Ruby Gillis did not seem the
sort of person with whom such
could be profitably discussed.
There was no silly sentiment
in Anne's ideas concerning Gilbert.
Boys were to her, when she thought
about them at all, merely possible
good comrades. If she and Gilbert
had been friends she would not
have cared how many other friends
he had nor with whom he walked.
She had a genius for friendship;
girl friends she had in plenty;
but she had a vague consciousness
that masculine friendship might
also be a good thing to round
out one's conceptions of companionship
and furnish broader standpoints
of judgment and comparison. Not
that Anne could have put her
feelings on the matter into just
such clear definition. But she
thought that if Gilbert had ever
walked home with her from the
train, over the crisp fields
and along the ferny byways, they
might have had many and merry
and interesting conversations
about the new world that was
opening around them and their
hopes and ambitions therein.
Gilbert was a clever young fellow,
with his own thoughts about things
and a determination to get the
best out of life and put the
best into it. Ruby Gillis told
Jane Andrews that she didn't
understand half the things Gilbert
Blythe said; he talked just like
Anne Shirley did when she had
a thoughtful fit on and for her
part she didn't think it any
fun to be bothering about books
and that sort of thing when you
didn't have to. Frank Stockley
had lots more dash and go, but
then he wasn't half as good-looking
as Gilbert and she really couldn't
decide which she liked best!
In the Academy
Anne gradually drew a little
circle of friends
about her, thoughtful, imaginative,
ambitious students like herself.
With the "rose-red" girl, Stella
Maynard, and the "dream girl," Priscilla
Grant, she soon became intimate,
finding the latter pale spiritual-looking
maiden to be full to the brim
of mischief and pranks and fun,
while the vivid, black-eyed Stella
had a heartful of wistful dreams
and fancies, as aerial and rainbow-like
as Anne's own.
After the Christmas holidays
the Avonlea students gave up
going home on Fridays and settled
down to hard work. By this time
all the Queen's scholars had
gravitated into their own places
in the ranks and the various
classes had assumed distinct
and settled shadings of individuality.
Certain facts had become generally
accepted. It was admitted that
the medal contestants had practically
narrowed down to three--Gilbert
Blythe, Anne Shirley, and Lewis
Wilson; the Avery scholarship
was more doubtful, any one of
a certain six being a possible
winner. The bronze medal for
mathematics was considered as
good as won by a fat, funny little
up-country boy with a bumpy forehead
and a patched coat.
Ruby Gillis was the handsomest
girl of the year at the Academy;
in the Second Year classes Stella
Maynard carried off the palm
for beauty, with small but critical
minority in favor of Anne Shirley.
Ethel Marr was admitted by all
competent judges to have the
most stylish modes of hair-dressing,
and Jane Andrews--plain, plodding,
conscientious Jane--carried off
the honors in the domestic science
course. Even Josie Pye attained
a certain preeminence as the
sharpest- tongued young lady
in attendance at Queen's. So
it may be fairly stated that
Miss Stacy's old pupil's held
their own in the wider arena
of the academical course.
Anne worked hard and steadily.
Her rivalry with Gilbert was
as intense as it had ever been
in Avonlea school, although it
was not known in the class at
large, but somehow the bitterness
had gone out of it. Anne no longer
wished to win for the sake of
defeating Gilbert; rather, for
the proud consciousness of a
well-won victory over a worthy
foeman. It would be worth while
to win, but she no longer thought
life would be insupportable if
she did not.
In spite of lessons the students
found opportunities for pleasant
times. Anne spent many of her
spare hours at Beechwood and
generally ate her Sunday dinners
there and went to church with
Miss Barry. The latter was, as
she admitted, growing old, but
her black eyes were not dim nor
the vigor of her tongue in the
least abated. But she never sharpened
the latter on Anne, who continued
to be a prime favorite with the
critical old lady.
"That Anne-girl improves all
the time," she said. "I get tired
of other girls--there is such
a provoking and eternal sameness
about them. Anne has as many
shades as a rainbow and every
shade is the prettiest while
it lasts. I don't know that she
is as amusing as she was when
she was a child, but she makes
me love her and I like people
who make me love them. It saves
me so much trouble in making
myself love them."
Then, almost
before anybody realized it,
spring had come;
out in Avonlea the Mayflowers
were peeping pinkly out on the
sere barrens where snow-wreaths
lingered; and the "mist of green" was
on the woods and in the valleys.
But in Charlottetown harassed
Queen's students thought and
talked only of examinations.
"It doesn't seem possible that
the term is nearly over," said
Anne. "Why, last fall it seemed
so long to look forward to--a
whole winter of studies and classes.
And here we are, with the exams
looming up next week. Girls,
sometimes I feel as if those
exams meant everything, but when
I look at the big buds swelling
on those chestnut trees and the
misty blue air at the end of
the streets they don't seem half
so important."
Jane and Ruby and Josie, who
had dropped in, did not take
this view of it. To them the
coming examinations were constantly
very important indeed--far more
important than chestnut buds
or Maytime hazes. It was all
very well for Anne, who was sure
of passing at least, to have
her moments of belittling them,
but when your whole future depended
on them--as the girls truly thought
theirs did-- you could not regard
them philosophically.
"I've lost seven pounds in
the last two weeks," sighed Jane. "It's
no use to say don't worry. I
WILL worry. Worrying helps you
some--it seems as if you were
doing something when you're worrying.
It would be dreadful if I failed
to get my license after going
to Queen's all winter and spending
so much money."
"_I_ don't care," said Josie
Pye. "If I don't pass this year
I'm coming back next. My father
can afford to send me. Anne,
Frank Stockley says that Professor
Tremaine said Gilbert Blythe
was sure to get the medal and
that Emily Clay would likely
win the Avery scholarship."
"That may make me feel badly
tomorrow, Josie," laughed Anne, "but
just now I honestly feel that
as long as I know the violets
are coming out all purple down
in the hollow below Green Gables
and that little ferns are poking
their heads up in Lovers' Lane,
it's not a great deal of difference
whether I win the Avery or not.
I've done my best and I begin
to understand what is meant by
the `joy of the strife.' Next
to trying and winning, the best
thing is trying and failing.
Girls, don't talk about exams!
Look at that arch of pale green
sky over those houses and picture
to yourself what it must look
like over the purply-dark beech-woods
back of Avonlea."
"What are you going to wear
for commencement, Jane?" asked
Ruby practically.
Jane and Josie both answered
at once and the chatter drifted
into a side eddy of fashions.
But Anne, with her elbows on
the window sill, her soft cheek
laid against her clasped hands,
and her eyes filled with visions,
looked out unheedingly across
city roof and spire to that glorious
dome of sunset sky and wove her
dreams of a possible future from
the golden tissue of youth's
own optimism. All the Beyond
was hers with its possibilities
lurking rosily in the oncoming
years--each year a rose of promise
to be woven into an immortal
chaplet.
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