he takes it right
out as soon as she tucks me up because she says I mustn't be a coward.
I'm NOT scared, but I'd RATHER have the light. My little mother used
always to sit beside me and hold my hand till I went to sleep. I expect
she spoiled me. Mothers do sometimes, you know."

No, Anne did not know this, although she might imagine it. She thought
sadly of HER "little mother," the mother who had thought her so
"perfectly beautiful" and who had died so long ago and was buried beside
her boyish husband in that unvisited grave far away. Anne could not
remember her mother and for this reason she almost envied Paul.

"My birthday is next week," said Paul, as they walked up the long red
hill, basking in the June sunshine, "and father wrote me that he is
sending me something that he thinks I'll like better than anything else
he could send. I believe it has come already, for Grandma is keeping the
bookcase drawer locked and that is something new. And when I asked her
why, she just looked mysterious and said little boys mustn't be too
curious. It's very exciting to have a birthday, isn't it? I'll be
eleven. You'd never think it to look at me, would you? Grandma says
I'm very small for my age and that it's all because I don't eat enough
porridge. I do my very best, but Grandma gives such generous platefuls
. . . there's nothing mean about Grandma, I can tell you. Ever since you
and I had that talk about praying going home from Sunday School
that day, teacher . . . when you said we ought to pray about all our
difficulties . . . I've prayed every night that God would give me enough
grace to enable me to eat every bit of my porridge in the mornings. But
I've never been able to do it yet, and whether it's because I have too
little grace or too much porridge I really can't decide. Grandma says
father was brought up on porridge, and it certainly did work well in
his case, for you ought to see the shoulders he has. But sometimes,"
concluded Paul with a sigh and a meditative air "I really think porridge
will be the death of me."

Anne permitted herself a smile, since Paul was not looking at her.
All Avonlea knew that old Mrs. Irving was bringing her grandson up in
accordance with the good, old-fashioned methods of diet and morals.

"Let us hope not, dear," she said cheerfully. "How are your rock people
coming on? Does the oldest Twin still continue to behave himself?"

"He HAS to," said Paul emphatically. "He knows I won't associat