thing to have in a family.  Chester says he doesn’t mind much . . . though he’d rather be a blacksmith . . . but he’s bound to have all the fun he can before he begins to be a minister, ’cause he doesn’t expect to have much afterwards.  I ain’t going to be a minister.  I’m going to be a storekeeper, like Mr. Blair, and keep heaps of candy and bananas.  But I’d rather like going to your kind of a heaven if they’d let me play a mouth organ instead of a harp.  Do you s’pose they would?”

“Yes, I think they would if you wanted it,” was all Anne could trust herself to say.

The A.V.I.S. met at Mr. Harmon Andrews’ that evening and a full attendance had been requested, since important business was to be discussed.  The A.V.I.S. was in a flourishing condition, and had already accomplished wonders.  Early in the spring Mr. Major Spencer had redeemed his promise and had stumped, graded, and seeded down all the road front of his farm.  A dozen other men, some prompted by a determination not to let a Spencer get ahead of them, others goaded into action by Improvers in their own households, had followed his example.  The result was that there were long strips of smooth velvet turf where once had been unsightly undergrowth or brush.  The farm fronts that had not been done looked so badly by contrast that their owners were secretly shamed into resolving to see what they could do another spring.  The triangle of ground at the cross roads had also been cleared and seeded down, and Anne’s bed of geraniums, unharmed by any marauding cow, was already set out in the center.

Altogether, the Improvers thought that they were getting on beautifully, even if Mr. Levi Boulter, tactfully approached by a carefully selected committee in regard to the old house on his upper farm, did bluntly tell them that he wasn’t going to have it meddled with.

At this especial meeting they intended to draw up a petition to the school trustees, humbly praying that a fence be put around the school grounds; and a plan was also to be discussed for planting a few ornamental trees by the church, if the funds of the society would permit of it . . . for, as Anne said, there was no use in starting another subscription as long as the hall remained blue.  The members were assembled in the Andrews’ parlor and Jane was already on her feet to move the appointment of a committee which should find out and report on the price of said trees, when Gertie Pye swept in, pompadoured and frilled within an inch of her life.  Gertie had a habit of being late . . . “to make her entrance more effective,” spiteful people said.  Gertie’s entrance in this instance was certainly effective, for she paused dramatically on the middle of the floor, threw up her hands, rolled her eyes, and exclaimed, “I’ve just heard something perfectly awful.  What do you think?  Mr. Judson Parker is going to rent all the road fence of his farm to A patent medicine company to paint advertisements on.”