“I—­I couldn’t marry Bill, you know, Jane,” she managed to gasp.  “Why, such an idea never occurred to me—­never!”

“I don’t suppose it did,” agreed Jane.  “Billy has always been far too shy to think of courting.  But you might think it over, Anne.  Billy is a good fellow.  I must say that, if he is my brother.  He has no bad habits and he’s a great worker, and you can depend on him.  ’A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.’  He told me to tell you he’d be quite willing to wait till you got through college, if you insisted, though he’d rather get married this spring before the planting begins.  He’d always be very good to you, I’m sure, and you know, Anne, I’d love to have you for a sister.”

“I can’t marry Billy,” said Anne decidedly.  She had recovered her wits, and was even feeling a little angry.  It was all so ridiculous.  “There is no use thinking of it, Jane.  I don’t care anything for him in that way, and you must tell him so.”

“Well, I didn’t suppose you would,” said Jane with a resigned sigh, feeling that she had done her best.  “I told Billy I didn’t believe it was a bit of use to ask you, but he insisted.  Well, you’ve made your decision, Anne, and I hope you won’t regret it.”

Jane spoke rather coldly.  She had been perfectly sure that the enamored Billy had no chance at all of inducing Anne to marry him.  Nevertheless, she felt a little resentment that Anne Shirley, who was, after all, merely an adopted orphan, without kith or kin, should refuse her brother—­one of the Avonlea Andrews.  Well, pride sometimes goes before a fall, Jane reflected ominously.

Anne permitted herself to smile in the darkness over the idea that she might ever regret not marrying Billy Andrews.

“I hope Billy won’t feel very badly over it,” she said nicely.

Jane made a movement as if she were tossing her head on her pillow.

“Oh, he won’t break his heart.  Billy has too much good sense for that.  He likes Nettie Blewett pretty well, too, and mother would rather he married her than any one.  She’s such a good manager and saver.  I think, when Billy is once sure you won’t have him, he’ll take Nettie.  Please don’t mention this to any one, will you, Anne?”

“Certainly not,” said Anne, who had no desire whatever to publish abroad the fact that Billy Andrews wanted to marry her, preferring her, when all was said and done, to Nettie Blewett.  Nettie Blewett!

“And now I suppose we’d better go to sleep,” suggested Jane.

To sleep went Jane easily and speedily; but, though very unlike MacBeth in most respects, she had certainly contrived to murder sleep for Anne.  That proposed-to damsel lay on a wakeful pillow until the wee sma’s, but her meditations were far from being romantic.  It was not, however, until the next morning that she had an opportunity to indulge in a good laugh over the whole affair.  When Jane had gone home—­still with a hint of frost in voice and manner because Anne had declined so ungratefully and decidedly the honor of an alliance with the House of Andrews—­Anne retreated to the porch room, shut the door, and had her laugh out at last.