is ever buried
there now. But a few years ago they put up a beautiful monument to the
memory of Nova Scotian soldiers who fell in the Crimean War. It is just
opposite the entrance gates and there's 'scope for imagination' in it,
as you used to say. Here's your trunk at last--and the boys coming to
say good night. Must I really shake hands with Charlie Sloane, Anne?
His hands are always so cold and fishy-feeling. We must ask them to call
occasionally. Miss Hannah gravely told me we could have 'young gentlemen
callers' two evenings in the week, if they went away at a reasonable
hour; and Miss Ada asked me, smiling, please to be sure they didn't sit
on her beautiful cushions. I promised to see to it; but goodness knows
where else they CAN sit, unless they sit on the floor, for there are
cushions on EVERYTHING. Miss Ada even has an elaborate Battenburg one on
top of the piano."

Anne was laughing by this time. Priscilla's gay chatter had the intended
effect of cheering her up; homesickness vanished for the time being, and
did not even return in full force when she finally found herself alone
in her little bedroom. She went to her window and looked out. The street
below was dim and quiet. Across it the moon was shining above the trees
in Old St. John's, just behind the great dark head of the lion on the
monument. Anne wondered if it could have been only that morning that she
had left Green Gables. She had the sense of a long passage of time which
one day of change and travel gives.

"I suppose that very moon is looking down on Green Gables now," she
mused. "But I won't think about it--that way homesickness lies. I'm not
even going to have my good cry. I'll put that off to a more convenient
season, and just now I'll go calmly and sensibly to bed and to sleep."

Chapter IV

April's Lady

Kingsport is a quaint old town, hearking back to early Colonial days,
and wrapped in its ancient atmosphere, as some fine old dame in garments
fashioned like those of her youth. Here and there it sprouts out into
modernity, but at heart it is still unspoiled; it is full of curious
relics, and haloed by the romance of many legends of the past. Once it
was a mere frontier station on the fringe of the wilderness, and those
were the days when Indians kept life from being monotonous to the
settlers. Then it grew to be a bone of contention between the British
and the French, being occupied now by the one and now by the other,
emerging