e of Diana's curls. "Fare thee well,
my beloved friend. Henceforth we must be as strangers though living side
by side. But my heart will ever be faithful to thee."

Anne stood and watched Diana out of sight, mournfully waving her hand
to the latter whenever she turned to look back. Then she returned to
the house, not a little consoled for the time being by this romantic
parting.

"It is all over," she informed Marilla. "I shall never have another
friend. I'm really worse off than ever before, for I haven't Katie
Maurice and Violetta now. And even if I had it wouldn't be the same.
Somehow, little dream girls are not satisfying after a real friend.
Diana and I had such an affecting farewell down by the spring. It will
be sacred in my memory forever. I used the most pathetic language I
could think of and said 'thou' and 'thee.' 'Thou' and 'thee' seem so
much more romantic than 'you.' Diana gave me a lock of her hair and I'm
going to sew it up in a little bag and wear it around my neck all my
life. Please see that it is buried with me, for I don't believe I'll
live very long. Perhaps when she sees me lying cold and dead before her
Mrs. Barry may feel remorse for what she has done and will let Diana
come to my funeral."

"I don't think there is much fear of your dying of grief as long as you
can talk, Anne," said Marilla unsympathetically.

The following Monday Anne surprised Marilla by coming down from her room
with her basket of books on her arm and hip and her lips primmed up into
a line of determination.

"I'm going back to school," she announced. "That is all there is left
in life for me, now that my friend has been ruthlessly torn from me. In
school I can look at her and muse over days departed."

"You'd better muse over your lessons and sums," said Marilla, concealing
her delight at this development of the situation. "If you're going back
to school I hope we'll hear no more of breaking slates over people's
heads and such carryings on. Behave yourself and do just what your
teacher tells you."

"I'll try to be a model pupil," agreed Anne dolefully. "There won't be
much fun in it, I expect. Mr. Phillips said Minnie Andrews was a model
pupil and there isn't a spark of imagination or life in her. She is
just dull and poky and never seems to have a good time. But I feel so
depressed that perhaps it will come easy to me now. I'm going round by
the road. I couldn't bear to go by the Birch Path all alone. I should
wee