“Everything is going up scandalously,” sighed Stella.

“Never mind.  Thank goodness air and salvation are still free,” said Aunt Jamesina.

“And so is laughter,” added Anne.  “There’s no tax on it yet and that is well, because you’re all going to laugh presently.  I’m going to read you Davy’s letter.  His spelling has improved immensely this past year, though he is not strong on apostrophes, and he certainly possesses the gift of writing an interesting letter.  Listen and laugh, before we settle down to the evening’s study-grind.”

“Dear Anne,” ran Davy’s letter, “I take my pen to tell you that we are all pretty well and hope this will find you the same.  It’s snowing some today and Marilla says the old woman in the sky is shaking her feather beds.  Is the old woman in the sky God’s wife, Anne?  I want to know.

“Mrs. Lynde has been real sick but she is better now.  She fell down the cellar stairs last week.  When she fell she grabbed hold of the shelf with all the milk pails and stewpans on it, and it gave way and went down with her and made a splendid crash.  Marilla thought it was an earthquake at first.

“One of the stewpans was all dinged up and Mrs. Lynde straned her ribs.  The doctor came and gave her medicine to rub on her ribs but she didn’t under stand him and took it all inside instead.  The doctor said it was a wonder it dident kill her but it dident and it cured her ribs and Mrs. Lynde says doctors dont know much anyhow.  But we couldent fix up the stewpan.  Marilla had to throw it out.  Thanksgiving was last week.  There was no school and we had a great dinner.  I et mince pie and rost turkey and frut cake and donuts and cheese and jam and choklut cake.  Marilla said I’d die but I dident.  Dora had earake after it, only it wasent in her ears it was in her stummick.  I dident have earake anywhere.

“Our new teacher is a man.  He does things for jokes.  Last week he made all us third-class boys write a composishun on what kind of a wife we’d like to have and the girls on what kind of a husband.  He laughed fit to kill when he read them.  This was mine.  I thought youd like to see it.

“’The kind of a wife I’d like to Have.

“’She must have good manners and get my meals on time and do what I tell her and always be very polite to me.  She must be fifteen yers old.  She must be good to the poor and keep her house tidy and be good tempered and go to church regularly.  She must be very handsome and have curly hair.  If I get a wife that is just what I like Ill be an awful good husband to her.  I think a woman ought to be awful good to her husband.  Some poor women haven’t any husbands.

“‘The end.’”

“I was at Mrs. Isaac Wrights funeral at White Sands last week.  The husband of the corpse felt real sorry.  Mrs. Lynde says Mrs. Wrights grandfather stole a sheep but Marilla says we mustent speak ill of the dead.  Why mustent we, Anne?  I want to know.  It’s pretty safe, ain’t it?