They lingered in the park until sunset, living in the amazing miracle and glory and wonder of the springtide; and they went home as usual, by way of Spofford Avenue, that they might have the delight of looking at Patty’s Place.

“I feel as if something mysterious were going to happen right away—­’by the pricking of my thumbs,’” said Anne, as they went up the slope.  “It’s a nice story-bookish feeling.  Why—­why—­why!  Priscilla Grant, look over there and tell me if it’s true, or am I seein’ things?”

Priscilla looked.  Anne’s thumbs and eyes had not deceived her.  Over the arched gateway of Patty’s Place dangled a little, modest sign.  It said “To Let, Furnished.  Inquire Within.”

“Priscilla,” said Anne, in a whisper, “do you suppose it’s possible that we could rent Patty’s Place?”

“No, I don’t,” averred Priscilla.  “It would be too good to be true.  Fairy tales don’t happen nowadays.  I won’t hope, Anne.  The disappointment would be too awful to bear.  They’re sure to want more for it than we can afford.  Remember, it’s on Spofford Avenue.”

“We must find out anyhow,” said Anne resolutely.  “It’s too late to call this evening, but we’ll come tomorrow.  Oh, Pris, if we can get this darling spot!  I’ve always felt that my fortunes were linked with Patty’s Place, ever since I saw it first.”

Chapter X

Patty’s Place

The next evening found them treading resolutely the herring-bone walk through the tiny garden.  The April wind was filling the pine trees with its roundelay, and the grove was alive with robins—­great, plump, saucy fellows, strutting along the paths.  The girls rang rather timidly, and were admitted by a grim and ancient handmaiden.  The door opened directly into a large living-room, where by a cheery little fire sat two other ladies, both of whom were also grim and ancient.  Except that one looked to be about seventy and the other fifty, there seemed little difference between them.  Each had amazingly big, light-blue eyes behind steel-rimmed spectacles; each wore a cap and a gray shawl; each was knitting without haste and without rest; each rocked placidly and looked at the girls without speaking; and just behind each sat a large white china dog, with round green spots all over it, a green nose and green ears.  Those dogs captured Anne’s fancy on the spot; they seemed like the twin guardian deities of Patty’s Place.

For a few minutes nobody spoke.  The girls were too nervous to find words, and neither the ancient ladies nor the china dogs seemed conversationally inclined.  Anne glanced about the room.  What a dear place it was!  Another door opened out of it directly into the pine grove and the robins came boldly up on the very step.  The floor was spotted with round, braided mats, such as Marilla made at Green Gables, but which were considered out of date everywhere else, even in Avonlea.  And