children. I don't like babies one bit--though when
I say so people look at me as if I had said something perfectly
shocking. Well, I don't, and I've got to be honest about it. I don't
mind looking at a nice clean baby if somebody else holds it--but I
wouldn't touch it for anything and I don't feel a single real spark of
interest in it. Gertrude Oliver says she just feels the same. (She is
the most honest person I know. She never pretends anything.) She says
babies bore her until they are old enough to talk and then she likes
them--but still a good ways off. Mother and Nan and Di all adore babies
and seem to think I'm unnatural because I don't.

"I haven't seen Kenneth since the night of the party. He was here one
evening after Jem came back but I happened to be away. I don't think he
mentioned me at all--at least nobody told me he did and I was
determined I wouldn't ask--but I don't care in the least. All that
matters absolutely nothing to me now. The only thing that does matter
is that Jem has volunteered for active service and will be going to
Valcartier in a few more days--my big, splendid brother Jem. Oh, I'm so
proud of him!

"I suppose Kenneth would enlist too if it weren't for his ankle. I
think that is quite providential. He is his mother's only son and how
dreadful she would feel if he went. Only sons should never think of
going!"

Walter came wandering through the valley as Rilla sat there, with his
head bent and his hands clasped behind him. When he saw Rilla he turned
abruptly away; then as abruptly he turned and came back to her.

"Rilla-my-Rilla, what are you thinking of?"

"Everything is so changed, Walter," said Rilla wistfully. "Even
you--you're changed. A week ago we were all so happy--and--and--now I
just can't find myself at all. I'm lost."

Walter sat down on a neighbouring stone and took Rilla's little
appealing hand.

"I'm afraid our old world has come to an end, Rilla. We've got to face
that fact."

"It's so terrible to think of Jem," pleaded Rilla. "Sometimes I forget
for a little while what it really means and feel excited and proud--and
then it comes over me again like a cold wind."

"I envy Jem!" said Walter moodily.

"Envy Jem! Oh, Walter you--you don't want to go too."

"No," said Walter, gazing straight before him down the emerald vistas
of the valley, "no, I don't want to go. That's just the trouble. Rilla,
I'm afraid to go. I'm a coward."

"You're not!" Rilla burst out a