“This is quite an adventure, isn’t it?” said Diana.  “And isn’t Miss Lavendar sweet, if she is a little odd?  She doesn’t look a bit like an old maid.”

“She looks just as music sounds, I think,” answered Anne.

When they went down Miss Lavendar was carrying in the teapot, and behind her, looking vastly pleased, was Charlotta the Fourth, with a plate of hot biscuits.

“Now, you must tell me your names,” said Miss Lavendar.  “I’m so glad you are young girls.  I love young girls.  It’s so easy to pretend I’m a girl myself when I’m with them.  I do hate” . . . with a little grimace . . . “to believe I’m old.  Now, who are you . . . just for convenience’ sake?  Diana Barry?  And Anne Shirley?  May I pretend that I’ve known you for a hundred years and call you Anne and Diana right away?”

“You, may” the girls said both together.

“Then just let’s sit comfily down and eat everything,” said Miss Lavendar happily.  “Charlotta, you sit at the foot and help with the chicken.  It is so fortunate that I made the sponge cake and doughnuts.  Of course, it was foolish to do it for imaginary guests . . .  I know Charlotta the Fourth thought so, didn’t you, Charlotta?  But you see how well it has turned out.  Of course they wouldn’t have been wasted, for Charlotta the Fourth and I could have eaten them through time.  But sponge cake is not a thing that improves with time.”

That was a merry and memorable meal; and when it was over they all went out to the garden, lying in the glamor of sunset.

“I do think you have the loveliest place here,” said Diana, looking round her admiringly.

“Why do you call it Echo Lodge?” asked Anne.

“Charlotta,” said Miss Lavendar, “go into the house and bring out the little tin horn that is hanging over the clock shelf.”

Charlotta the Fourth skipped off and returned with the horn.

“Blow it, Charlotta,” commanded Miss Lavendar.

Charlotta accordingly blew, a rather raucous, strident blast.  There was moment’s stillness . . . and then from the woods over the river came a multitude of fairy echoes, sweet, elusive, silvery, as if all the “horns of elfland” were blowing against the sunset.  Anne and Diana exclaimed in delight.

“Now laugh, Charlotta . . . laugh loudly.”

Charlotta, who would probably have obeyed if Miss Lavendar had told her to stand on her head, climbed upon the stone bench and laughed loud and heartily.  Back came the echoes, as if a host of pixy people were mimicking her laughter in the purple woodlands and along the fir-fringed points.

“People always admire my echoes very much,” said Miss Lavendar, as if the echoes were her personal property.  “I love them myself.  They are very good company . . . with a little pretending.  On calm evenings Charlotta the Fourth and I often sit out here and amuse ourselves with them.  Charlotta, take back the horn and hang it carefully in its place.”