always romantic, you know," said Marilla apologetically.

"Well, married life will most likely cure her of that," Mrs. Rachel
responded comfortingly.

Anne laughed and slipped away to Lover's Lane, where Gilbert found her;
and neither of them seemed to entertain much fear, or hope, that their
married life would cure them of romance.

The Echo Lodge people came over the next week, and Green Gables buzzed
with the delight of them. Miss Lavendar had changed so little that the
three years since her last Island visit might have been a watch in the
night; but Anne gasped with amazement over Paul. Could this splendid
six feet of manhood be the little Paul of Avonlea schooldays?

"You really make me feel old, Paul," said Anne. "Why, I have to look
up to you!"

"You'll never grow old, Teacher," said Paul. "You are one of the
fortunate mortals who have found and drunk from the Fountain of
Youth,--you and Mother Lavendar. See here! When you're married I
WON'T call you Mrs. Blythe. To me you'll always be 'Teacher'--the
teacher of the best lessons I ever learned. I want to show you
something."

The "something" was a pocketbook full of poems. Paul had put some of
his beautiful fancies into verse, and magazine editors had not been as
unappreciative as they are sometimes supposed to be. Anne read Paul's
poems with real delight. They were full of charm and promise.

"You'll be famous yet, Paul. I always dreamed of having one famous
pupil. He was to be a college president--but a great poet would be
even better. Some day I'll be able to boast that I whipped the
distinguished Paul Irving. But then I never did whip you, did I, Paul?
What an opportunity lost! I think I kept you in at recess, however."

"You may be famous yourself, Teacher. I've seen a good deal of your
work these last three years."

"No. I know what I can do. I can write pretty, fanciful little
sketches that children love and editors send welcome cheques for. But
I can do nothing big. My only chance for earthly immortality is a
corner in your Memoirs."

Charlotta the Fourth had discarded the blue bows but her freckles were
not noticeably less.

"I never did think I'd come down to marrying a Yankee, Miss Shirley,
ma'am," she said. "But you never know what's before you, and it isn't
his fault. He was born that way."

"You're a Yankee yourself, Charlotta, since you've married one."

"Miss Shirley, ma'am, I'm NOT! And I wouldn't be if I wa