“Don’t blame Davy,” said Anne, gathering up the fragments with trembling fingers.  “It was my fault.  I set that platter there and forgot all about it.  I am properly punished for my carelessness; but oh, what will Miss Barry say?”

“Well, you know she only bought it, so it isn’t the same as if it was an heirloom,” said Diana, trying to console.

The guests went away soon after, feeling that it was the most tactful thing to do, and Anne and Diana washed the dishes, talking less than they had ever been known to do before.  Then Diana went home with a headache and Anne went with another to the east gable, where she stayed until Marilla came home from the post office at sunset, with a letter from Priscilla, written the day before.  Mrs. Morgan had sprained her ankle so severely that she could not leave her room.

“And oh, Anne dear,” wrote Priscilla, “I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid we won’t get up to Green Gables at all now, for by the time Aunty’s ankle is well she will have to go back to Toronto.  She has to be there by a certain date.”

“Well,” sighed Anne, laying the letter down on the red sandstone step of the back porch, where she was sitting, while the twilight rained down out of a dappled sky, “I always thought it was too good to be true that Mrs. Morgan should really come.  But there . . . that speech sounds as pessimistic as Miss Eliza Andrews and I’m ashamed of making it.  After all, it was not too good to be true . . . things just as good and far better are coming true for me all the time.  And I suppose the events of today have a funny side too.  Perhaps when Diana and I are old and gray we shall be able to laugh over them.  But I feel that I can’t expect to do it before then, for it has truly been a bitter disappointment.”

“You’ll probably have a good many more and worse disappointments than that before you get through life,” said Marilla, who honestly thought she was making a comforting speech.  “It seems to me, Anne, that you are never going to outgrow your fashion of setting your heart so on things and then crashing down into despair because you don’t get them.”

“I know I’m too much inclined that, way” agreed Anne ruefully.  “When I think something nice is going to happen I seem to fly right up on the wings of anticipation; and then the first thing I realize I drop down to earth with a thud.  But really, Marilla, the flying part is glorious as long as it lasts . . . it’s like soaring through a sunset.  I think it almost pays for the thud.”

“Well, maybe it does,” admitted Marilla.  “I’d rather walk calmly along and do without both flying and thud.  But everybody has her own way of living . . .  I used to think there was only one right way . . . but since I’ve had you and the twins to bring up I don’t feel so sure of it.  What are you going to do about Miss Barry’s platter?”

“Pay her back the twenty dollars she paid for it, I suppose.  I’m so thankful it wasn’t a cherished heirloom because then no money could replace it.”