emember, Anne?"

"I should think I do," said Anne ruefully. "People don't forget things
like that. How I hated poor Mrs. Rachel at that moment!"

"And then that 'apology' you made her. Well, you were a handful, in all
conscience, Anne. I did feel so puzzled and bewildered how to manage
you. Matthew understood you better."

"Matthew understood everything," said Anne softly, as she always spoke
of him.

"Well, I think it could be managed so that Rachel and I wouldn't clash
at all. It always seemed to me that the reason two women can't get along
in one house is that they try to share the same kitchen and get in each
other's way. Now, if Rachel came here, she could have the north gable
for her bedroom and the spare room for a kitchen as well as not, for we
don't really need a spare room at all. She could put her stove there
and what furniture she wanted to keep, and be real comfortable and
independent. She'll have enough to live on of course...her children'll
see to that...so all I'd be giving her would be house room. Yes, Anne,
far as I'm concerned I'd like it."

"Then ask her," said Anne promptly. "I'd be very sorry myself to see
Mrs. Rachel go away."

"And if she comes," continued Marilla, "You can go to college as well as
not. She'll be company for me and she'll do for the twins what I can't
do, so there's no reason in the world why you shouldn't go."

Anne had a long meditation at her window that night. Joy and regret
struggled together in her heart. She had come at last . . . suddenly and
unexpectedly . . . to the bend in the road; and college was around it,
with a hundred rainbow hopes and visions; but Anne realized as well that
when she rounded that curve she must leave many sweet things behind. . .
all the little simple duties and interests which had grown so dear to
her in the last two years and which she had glorified into beauty and
delight by the enthusiasm she had put into them. She must give up her
school . . . and she loved every one of her pupils, even the stupid and
naughty ones. The mere thought of Paul Irving made her wonder if Redmond
were such a name to conjure with after all.

"I've put out a lot of little roots these two years," Anne told the
moon, "and when I'm pulled up they're going to hurt a great deal. But
it's best to go, I think, and, as Marilla says, there's no good reason
why I shouldn't. I must get out all my ambitions and dust them."

Anne sent in her resignation the next day; a