seen
the point of it. She recalled the chummy laugh she and Gilbert had had
together over it, and wondered uneasily if life with a man who had no
sense of humor might not be somewhat uninteresting in the long run. But
who could expect a melancholy, inscrutable hero to see the humorous side
of things? It would be flatly unreasonable.

Chapter XXVIII

A June Evening

"I wonder what it would be like to live in a world where it was always
June," said Anne, as she came through the spice and bloom of the twilit
orchard to the front door steps, where Marilla and Mrs. Rachel were
sitting, talking over Mrs. Samson Coates' funeral, which they had
attended that day. Dora sat between them, diligently studying her
lessons; but Davy was sitting tailor-fashion on the grass, looking as
gloomy and depressed as his single dimple would let him.

"You'd get tired of it," said Marilla, with a sigh.

"I daresay; but just now I feel that it would take me a long time to get
tired of it, if it were all as charming as today. Everything loves June.
Davy-boy, why this melancholy November face in blossom-time?"

"I'm just sick and tired of living," said the youthful pessimist.

"At ten years? Dear me, how sad!"

"I'm not making fun," said Davy with dignity. "I'm
dis--dis--discouraged"--bringing out the big word with a valiant effort.

"Why and wherefore?" asked Anne, sitting down beside him.

"'Cause the new teacher that come when Mr. Holmes got sick give me ten
sums to do for Monday. It'll take me all day tomorrow to do them. It
isn't fair to have to work Saturdays. Milty Boulter said he wouldn't do
them, but Marilla says I've got to. I don't like Miss Carson a bit."

"Don't talk like that about your teacher, Davy Keith," said Mrs. Rachel
severely. "Miss Carson is a very fine girl. There is no nonsense about
her."

"That doesn't sound very attractive," laughed Anne. "I like people to
have a little nonsense about them. But I'm inclined to have a better
opinion of Miss Carson than you have. I saw her in prayer-meeting last
night, and she has a pair of eyes that can't always look sensible. Now,
Davy-boy, take heart of grace. 'Tomorrow will bring another day' and
I'll help you with the sums as far as in me lies. Don't waste this
lovely hour 'twixt light and dark worrying over arithmetic."

"Well, I won't," said Davy, brightening up. "If you help me with the
sums I'll have 'em done in time to go fishing with Milty. I wish old
Au