“It was awfully good of you to think of me,” said little Anne, gratefully.

“I wanted to buy you something,” apologized Tommy.  “There was some lovely jewelry made out of fish-scales, but I didn’t have a cent to spare.”

“I would rather have these, really, Tommy,” said Anne, with appreciation, “because you found them yourself.”

She tied them up carefully in her little clean white handkerchief, and then she folded her hands in her lap and told Tommy everything that had happened since he left home.

The sky was red with the blaze of the setting sun when the carriage started.  Overhead the crows were flying in a straight black line to the woods to roost.  As Anne talked on, the fireflies began to shine against the blue-gray of the twilight; then came darkness and the stars.

“It seems awfully good to be at home,” confessed Tommy, as the lights began to twinkle in the nearest farmhouse, “if only father won’t scold.”

“I think he will scold, Tommy—­he was awfully angry—­but your mother will be so pleased.”

“It was horrid sleeping out at night and tramping days.”  Tommy was unburdening his soul.  It was so easy to tell things to gentle, sympathetic Anne.  “And the men around the wharf were so rough—­”

“I am sure you won’t want to go again,” said little Anne, “not for a long time, Tommy.”

Tommy looked around cautiously.  He didn’t want Judy to hear, somehow.  He was afraid of her teasing laugh.  Then he leaned down close to Anne’s ear: 

“I’ll stay here for awhile, Anne.”

“I’m so glad, Tommy,” said Anne, with a sigh of relief.

But as they drove into the great gateway, and the lights from the big house shone out in welcome, Tommy sighed: 

“But I would like to find a treasure island, Anne,” he said.

CHAPTER VIII

A WHITE SUNDAY

Anne was feeling very important.  She was wrapped in a pale blue kimona of Judy’s, and she had had her breakfast in bed!

Piled up ten deep at her side were books—­a choice collection from the Judge’s bookcases, into which she dipped here and there with sighs of deep content and anticipation.

At the end of the room was a mirror, and Anne could just see herself in it.  It was a distracting vision, for Judy had done Anne’s hair up that morning, and had puffed it out over her ears and had tied it with broad black ribbon, and this effect, in combination with the sweeping blue robe, made Anne feel as interesting as the heroine of a book—­and she had never expected that!

Judy in a rose-pink kimona lay on the couch, looking out of the window.  The peace of the Sabbath was upon the world; and the house was very still.

Suddenly with a “click” and a “whirr-rr,” the doors of the little carved clock on the wall new open and a cuckoo came out and piped ten warning notes.