ollowed the excited Lorenzo into the house.

"Oh, there will certainly be something else nice to say about it," said
Anne easily. "There always is about a baby."

The baby WAS pretty, however, and Mr. White felt that he got his five
dollars' worth of the girls' honest delight over the plump little
newcomer. But that was the first, last, and only time that Lorenzo White
ever subscribed to anything.

Anne, tired as she was, made one more effort for the public weal that
night, slipping over the fields to interview Mr. Harrison, who was as
usual smoking his pipe on the veranda with Ginger beside him. Strickly
speaking he was on the Carmody road; but Jane and Gertie, who were not
acquainted with him save by doubtful report, had nervously begged Anne
to canvass him.

Mr. Harrison, however, flatly refused to subscribe a cent, and all
Anne's wiles were in vain.

"But I thought you approved of our society, Mr. Harrison," she mourned.

"So I do . . . so I do . . . but my approval doesn't go as deep as my
pocket, Anne."

"A few more experiences such as I have had today would make me as much
of a pessimist as Miss Eliza Andrews," Anne told her reflection in the
east gable mirror at bedtime.

VII

The Pointing of Duty

Anne leaned back in her chair one mild October evening and sighed. She
was sitting at a table covered with text books and exercises, but the
closely written sheets of paper before her had no apparent connection
with studies or school work.

"What is the matter?" asked Gilbert, who had arrived at the open kitchen
door just in time to hear the sigh.

Anne colored, and thrust her writing out of sight under some school
compositions.

"Nothing very dreadful. I was just trying to write out some of my
thoughts, as Professor Hamilton advised me, but I couldn't get them to
please me. They seem so still and foolish directly they're written down
on white paper with black ink. Fancies are like shadows . . . you can't
cage them, they're such wayward, dancing things. But perhaps I'll learn
the secret some day if I keep on trying. I haven't a great many spare
moments, you know. By the time I finish correcting school exercises and
compositions, I don't always feel like writing any of my own."

"You are getting on splendidly in school, Anne. All the children like
you," said Gilbert, sitting down on the stone step.

"No, not all. Anthony Pye doesn't and WON'T like me. What is worse, he
doesn't respect me .