“When I’ve finished these exercises I’ll run down and chat awhile with Mrs. Lynde,” said Anne.  “I had intended to study some Latin composition tonight but it can wait.”

“I suppose Gilbert Blythe is going to college in the fall,” said Marilla jerkily.  “How would you like to go too, Anne?”

Anne looked up in astonishment.

“I would like it, of course, Marilla.  But it isn’t possible.”

“I guess it can be made possible.  I’ve always felt that you should go.  I’ve never felt easy to think you were giving it all up on my account.”

“But Marilla, I’ve never been sorry for a moment that I stayed home.  I’ve been so happy . . .  Oh, these past two years have just been delightful.”

“Oh, yes, I know you’ve been contented enough.  But that isn’t the question exactly.  You ought to go on with your education.  You’ve saved enough to put you through one year at Redmond and the money the stock brought in will do for another year . . . and there’s scholarships and things you might win.”

“Yes, but I can’t go, Marilla.  Your eyes are better, of course; but I can’t leave you alone with the twins.  They need so much looking after.”

“I won’t be alone with them.  That’s what I meant to discuss with you.  I had a long talk with Rachel tonight.  Anne, she’s feeling dreadful bad over a good many things.  She’s not left very well off.  It seems they mortgaged the farm eight years ago to give the youngest boy a start when he went west; and they’ve never been able to pay much more than the interest since.  And then of course Thomas’ illness has cost a good deal, one way or another.  The farm will have to be sold and Rachel thinks there’ll be hardly anything left after the bills are settled.  She says she’ll have to go and live with Eliza and it’s breaking her heart to think of leaving Avonlea.  A woman of her age doesn’t make new friends and interests easy.  And, Anne, as she talked about it the thought came to me that I would ask her to come and live with me, but I thought I ought to talk it over with you first before I said anything to her.  If I had Rachel living with me you could go to college.  How do you feel about it?”

“I feel . . . as if . . . somebody . . . had handed me . . . the moon . . . and I didn’t know . . . exactly . . . what to do . . . with it,” said Anne dazedly.  “But as for asking Mrs. Lynde to come here, that is for you to decide, Marilla.  Do you think . . . are you sure . . . you would like it?  Mrs. Lynde is a good woman and a kind neighbor, but . . . but . . .”

“But she’s got her faults, you mean to say?  Well, she has, of course; but I think I’d rather put up with far worse faults than see Rachel go away from Avonlea.  I’d miss her terrible.  She’s the only close friend I’ve got here and I’d be lost without her.  We’ve been neighbors for forty-five years and we’ve never had a quarrel . . . though we came rather near it that time you flew at Mrs. Rachel for calling you homely and redhaired.  Do you remember, Anne?”