Breakfast at Green Gables that morning was a rather doleful meal.  Davy, for the first time in his life probably, could not eat, but blubbered shamelessly over his porridge.  Nobody else seemed to have much appetite, save Dora, who tucked away her rations comfortably.  Dora, like the immortal and most prudent Charlotte, who “went on cutting bread and butter” when her frenzied lover’s body had been carried past on a shutter, was one of those fortunate creatures who are seldom disturbed by anything.  Even at eight it took a great deal to ruffle Dora’s placidity.  She was sorry Anne was going away, of course, but was that any reason why she should fail to appreciate a poached egg on toast?  Not at all.  And, seeing that Davy could not eat his, Dora ate it for him.

Promptly on time Diana appeared with horse and buggy, her rosy face glowing above her raincoat.  The good-byes had to be said then somehow.  Mrs. Lynde came in from her quarters to give Anne a hearty embrace and warn her to be careful of her health, whatever she did.  Marilla, brusque and tearless, pecked Anne’s cheek and said she supposed they’d hear from her when she got settled.  A casual observer might have concluded that Anne’s going mattered very little to her—­unless said observer had happened to get a good look in her eyes.  Dora kissed Anne primly and squeezed out two decorous little tears; but Davy, who had been crying on the back porch step ever since they rose from the table, refused to say good-bye at all.  When he saw Anne coming towards him he sprang to his feet, bolted up the back stairs, and hid in a clothes closet, out of which he would not come.  His muffled howls were the last sounds Anne heard as she left Green Gables.

It rained heavily all the way to Bright River, to which station they had to go, since the branch line train from Carmody did not connect with the boat train.  Charlie and Gilbert were on the station platform when they reached it, and the train was whistling.  Anne had just time to get her ticket and trunk check, say a hurried farewell to Diana, and hasten on board.  She wished she were going back with Diana to Avonlea; she knew she was going to die of homesickness.  And oh, if only that dismal rain would stop pouring down as if the whole world were weeping over summer vanished and joys departed!  Even Gilbert’s presence brought her no comfort, for Charlie Sloane was there, too, and Sloanishness could be tolerated only in fine weather.  It was absolutely insufferable in rain.

But when the boat steamed out of Charlottetown harbor things took a turn for the better.  The rain ceased and the sun began to burst out goldenly now and again between the rents in the clouds, burnishing the gray seas with copper-hued radiance, and lighting up the mists that curtained the Island’s red shores with gleams of gold foretokening a fine day after all.  Besides, Charlie Sloane promptly became so seasick that he had to go below, and Anne and Gilbert were left alone on deck.