ld Mrs. Sloane wiping away tears when I sat down. It was
splendid to think I had touched somebody's heart. It's so romantic to
take part in a concert isn't it? Oh, it's been a very memorable
occasion indeed."

"Wasn't the boys' dialogue fine?" said Diana. "Gilbert Blythe was just
splendid. Anne, I do think it's awful mean the way you treat Gil. Wait
till I tell you. When you ran off the platform after the fairy
dialogue one of your roses fell out of your hair. I saw Gil pick it up
and put it in his breast pocket. There now. You're so romantic that
I'm sure you ought to be pleased at that."

"It's nothing to me what that person does," said Anne loftily. "I
simply never waste a thought on him, Diana."

That night Marilla and Matthew, who had been out to a concert for the
first time in twenty years, sat for awhile by the kitchen fire after
Anne had gone to bed.

"Well now, I guess our Anne did as well as any of them," said Matthew
proudly.

"Yes, she did," admitted Marilla. "She's a bright child, Matthew. And
she looked real nice, too. I've been kind of opposed to this concert
scheme, but I suppose there's no real harm in it after all. Anyhow, I
was proud of Anne tonight, although I'm not going to tell her so."

"Well now, I was proud of her and I did tell her so 'fore she went
upstairs," said Matthew. "We must see what we can do for her some of
these days, Marilla. I guess she'll need something more than Avonlea
school by and by."

"There's time enough to think of that," said Marilla. "She's only
thirteen in March. Though tonight it struck me she was growing quite a
big girl. Mrs. Lynde made that dress a mite too long, and it makes
Anne look so tall. She's quick to learn and I guess the best thing we
can do for her will be to send her to Queen's after a spell. But
nothing need be said about that for a year or two yet."

"Well now, it'll do no harm to be thinking it over off and on," said
Matthew. "Things like that are all the better for lots of thinking
over."

Missy's Room

Mrs. Falconer and Miss Bailey walked home together through the fine
blue summer afternoon from the Ladies' Aid meeting at Mrs. Robinson's.
They were talking earnestly; that is to say, Miss Bailey was talking
earnestly and volubly, and Mrs. Falconer was listening. Mrs. Falconer
had reduced the practice of listening to a fine art. She was a thin,
wistful-faced mite of a woman, with sad brown eyes, and with
snow-white hair that was