“Plum puffs won’t minister to a mind diseased,” said Anne disconsolately; but Marilla thought it a good sign that she had recovered sufficiently to adapt a quotation.

The cheerful supper table, with the twins’ bright faces, and Marilla’s matchless plum puffs . . . of which Davy ate four . . . did “hearten her up” considerably after all.  She had a good sleep that night and and awakened in the morning to find herself and the world transformed.  It had snowed softly and thickly all through the hours of darkness and the beautiful whiteness, glittering in the frosty sunshine, looked like a mantle of charity cast over all the mistakes and humiliations of the past.

     “Every morn is a fresh beginning,
     Every morn is the world made new,”

sang Anne, as she dressed.

Owing to the snow she had to go around by the road to school and she thought it was certainly an impish coincidence that Anthony Pye should come ploughing along just as she left the Green Gables lane.  She felt as guilty as if their positions were reversed; but to her unspeakable astonishment Anthony not only lifted his cap . . . which he had never done before . . . but said easily,

“Kind of bad walking, ain’t it?  Can I take those books for you, teacher?”

Anne surrendered her books and wondered if she could possibly be awake.  Anthony walked on in silence to the school, but when Anne took her books she smiled down at him . . . not the stereotyped “kind” smile she had so persistently assumed for his benefit but a sudden outflashing of good comradeship.  Anthony smiled . . . no, if the truth must be told, Anthony grinned back.  A grin is not generally supposed to be a respectful thing; yet Anne suddenly felt that if she had not yet won Anthony’s liking she had, somehow or other, won his respect.

Mrs. Rachel Lynde came up the next Saturday and confirmed this.

“Well, Anne, I guess you’ve won over Anthony Pye, that’s what.  He says he believes you are some good after all, even if you are a girl.  Says that whipping you gave him was ‘just as good as a man’s.’”

“I never expected to win him by whipping him, though,” said Anne, a little mournfully, feeling that her ideals had played her false somewhere.  “It doesn’t seem right.  I’m sure my theory of kindness can’t be wrong.”

“No, but the Pyes are an exception to every known rule, that’s what,” declared Mrs. Rachel with conviction.

Mr. Harrison said, “Thought you’d come to it,” when he heard it, and Jane rubbed it in rather unmercifully.

XIII

A Golden Picnic

Anne, on her way to Orchard Slope, met Diana, bound for Green Gables, just where the mossy old log bridge spanned the brook below the Haunted Wood, and they sat down by the margin of the Dryad’s Bubble, where tiny ferns were unrolling like curly-headed green pixy folk wakening up from a nap.