“Dear old Jane—­I’m so glad,” said Anne heartily.  “She deserves the good things of life.”

“Oh, I ain’t saying anything against Jane.  She’s a nice enough girl.  But she isn’t in the millionaire class, and you’ll find there’s not much to recommend that man but his money, that’s what.  Mrs. Harmon says he’s an Englishman who has made money in mines but I believe he’ll turn out to be a Yankee.  He certainly must have money, for he has just showered Jane with jewelry.  Her engagement ring is a diamond cluster so big that it looks like a plaster on Jane’s fat paw.”

Mrs. Lynde could not keep some bitterness out of her tone.  Here was Jane Andrews, that plain little plodder, engaged to a millionaire, while Anne, it seemed, was not yet bespoken by any one, rich or poor.  And Mrs. Harmon Andrews did brag insufferably.

“What has Gilbert Blythe been doing to at college?” asked Marilla.  “I saw him when he came home last week, and he is so pale and thin I hardly knew him.”

“He studied very hard last winter,” said Anne.  “You know he took High Honors in Classics and the Cooper Prize.  It hasn’t been taken for five years!  So I think he’s rather run down.  We’re all a little tired.”

“Anyhow, you’re a B.A. and Jane Andrews isn’t and never will be,” said Mrs. Lynde, with gloomy satisfaction.

A few evenings later Anne went down to see Jane, but the latter was away in Charlottetown—­“getting sewing done,” Mrs. Harmon informed Anne proudly.  “Of course an Avonlea dressmaker wouldn’t do for Jane under the circumstances.”

“I’ve heard something very nice about Jane,” said Anne.

“Yes, Jane has done pretty well, even if she isn’t a B.A.,” said Mrs. Harmon, with a slight toss of her head.  “Mr. Inglis is worth millions, and they’re going to Europe on their wedding tour.  When they come back they’ll live in a perfect mansion of marble in Winnipeg.  Jane has only one trouble—­she can cook so well and her husband won’t let her cook.  He is so rich he hires his cooking done.  They’re going to keep a cook and two other maids and a coachman and a man-of-all-work.  But what about you, Anne?  I don’t hear anything of your being married, after all your college-going.”

“Oh,” laughed Anne, “I am going to be an old maid.  I really can’t find any one to suit me.”  It was rather wicked of her.  She deliberately meant to remind Mrs. Andrews that if she became an old maid it was not because she had not had at least one chance of marriage.  But Mrs. Harmon took swift revenge.

“Well, the over-particular girls generally get left, I notice.  And what’s this I hear about Gilbert Blythe being engaged to a Miss Stuart?  Charlie Sloane tells me she is perfectly beautiful.  Is it true?”

“I don’t know if it is true that he is engaged to Miss Stuart,” replied Anne, with Spartan composure, “but it is certainly true that she is very lovely.”

“I once thought you and Gilbert would have made a match of it,” said Mrs. Harmon.  “If you don’t take care, Anne, all of your beaux will slip through your fingers.”