strong and noble. He
was so earnest and tender and true. He was everything a minister ought
to be. I wondered how I could ever have thought him ugly--but he really
is!--with those inspired eyes and that intellectual brow which the
roughly-falling hair hid on week days.

"It was a splendid sermon and I could have listened to it forever, and
it made me feel utterly wretched. Oh, I wish I was like YOU, Anne.

"He caught up with me on the road home, and grinned as cheerfully as
usual. But his grin could never deceive me again. I had seen the REAL
Jonas. I wondered if he could ever see the REAL PHIL--whom NOBODY, not
even you, Anne, has ever seen yet.

"'Jonas,' I said--I forgot to call him Mr. Blake. Wasn't it dreadful?
But there are times when things like that don't matter--'Jonas, you were
born to be a minister. You COULDN'T be anything else.'

"'No, I couldn't,' he said soberly. 'I tried to be something else for
a long time--I didn't want to be a minister. But I came to see at last
that it was the work given me to do--and God helping me, I shall try to
do it.'

"His voice was low and reverent. I thought that he would do his work and
do it well and nobly; and happy the woman fitted by nature and training
to help him do it. SHE would be no feather, blown about by every fickle
wind of fancy. SHE would always know what hat to put on. Probably she
would have only one. Ministers never have much money. But she wouldn't
mind having one hat or none at all, because she would have Jonas.

"Anne Shirley, don't you dare to say or hint or think that I've
fallen in love with Mr. Blake. Could I care for a lank, poor, ugly
theologue--named Jonas? As Uncle Mark says, 'It's impossible, and what's
more it's improbable.'

"Good night, PHIL."

"P.S. It is impossible--but I am horribly afraid it's true. I'm happy
and wretched and scared. HE can NEVER care for me, I know. Do you think
I could ever develop into a passable minister's wife, Anne? And WOULD
they expect me to lead in prayer? P G."

Chapter XXV

Enter Prince Charming

"I'm contrasting the claims of indoors and out," said Anne, looking from
the window of Patty's Place to the distant pines of the park.

"I've an afternoon to spend in sweet doing nothing, Aunt Jimsie. Shall
I spend it here where there is a cosy fire, a plateful of delicious
russets, three purring and harmonious cats, and two impeccable china
dogs with green noses? Or shall I go to the park, where