given Anne a pine needle cushion and Miss Ada had given both
her and Priscilla a fearfully and wonderfully embroidered one. Marilla
had sent a big box of preserves, and darkly hinted at a hamper for
Thanksgiving, and Mrs. Lynde gave Anne a patchwork quilt and loaned her
five more.

"You take them," she said authoritatively. "They might as well be in use
as packed away in that trunk in the garret for moths to gnaw."

No moths would ever have ventured near those quilts, for they reeked of
mothballs to such an extent that they had to be hung in the orchard of
Patty's Place a full fortnight before they could be endured indoors.
Verily, aristocratic Spofford Avenue had rarely beheld such a display.
The gruff old millionaire who lived "next door" came over and wanted to
buy the gorgeous red and yellow "tulip-pattern" one which Mrs. Rachel
had given Anne. He said his mother used to make quilts like that, and by
Jove, he wanted one to remind him of her. Anne would not sell it, much
to his disappointment, but she wrote all about it to Mrs. Lynde. That
highly-gratified lady sent word back that she had one just like it to
spare, so the tobacco king got his quilt after all, and insisted on
having it spread on his bed, to the disgust of his fashionable wife.

Mrs. Lynde's quilts served a very useful purpose that winter. Patty's
Place for all its many virtues, had its faults also. It was really a
rather cold house; and when the frosty nights came the girls were very
glad to snuggle down under Mrs. Lynde's quilts, and hoped that the loan
of them might be accounted unto her for righteousness. Anne had the blue
room she had coveted at sight. Priscilla and Stella had the large one.
Phil was blissfully content with the little one over the kitchen; and
Aunt Jamesina was to have the downstairs one off the living-room. Rusty
at first slept on the doorstep.

Anne, walking home from Redmond a few days after her return, became
aware that the people that she met surveyed her with a covert, indulgent
smile. Anne wondered uneasily what was the matter with her. Was her hat
crooked? Was her belt loose? Craning her head to investigate, Anne, for
the first time, saw Rusty.

Trotting along behind her, close to her heels, was quite the most
forlorn specimen of the cat tribe she had ever beheld. The animal was
well past kitten-hood, lank, thin, disreputable looking. Pieces of both
ears were lacking, one eye was temporarily out of repair, and one jow