thinking I knew it all, and looking down on everything and everybody in Avonlea; Mrs. Elisha Wright said she understood that Redmond girls, especially those who belonged to Kingsport, were ‘dreadful dressy and stuck-up,’ and she guessed I wouldn’t feel much at home among them; and I saw myself, a snubbed, dowdy, humiliated country girl, shuffling through Redmond’s classic halls in coppertoned boots.”

Anne ended with a laugh and a sigh commingled.  With her sensitive nature all disapproval had weight, even the disapproval of those for whose opinions she had scant respect.  For the time being life was savorless, and ambition had gone out like a snuffed candle.

“You surely don’t care for what they said,” protested Gilbert.  “You know exactly how narrow their outlook on life is, excellent creatures though they are.  To do anything they have never done is anathema maranatha.  You are the first Avonlea girl who has ever gone to college; and you know that all pioneers are considered to be afflicted with moonstruck madness.”

“Oh, I know.  But feeling is so different from knowing.  My common sense tells me all you can say, but there are times when common sense has no power over me.  Common nonsense takes possession of my soul.  Really, after Mrs. Elisha went away I hardly had the heart to finish packing.”

“You’re just tired, Anne.  Come, forget it all and take a walk with me—­a ramble back through the woods beyond the marsh.  There should be something there I want to show you.”

“Should be!  Don’t you know if it is there?”

“No.  I only know it should be, from something I saw there in spring.  Come on.  We’ll pretend we are two children again and we’ll go the way of the wind.”

They started gaily off.  Anne, remembering the unpleasantness of the preceding evening, was very nice to Gilbert; and Gilbert, who was learning wisdom, took care to be nothing save the schoolboy comrade again.  Mrs. Lynde and Marilla watched them from the kitchen window.

“That’ll be a match some day,” Mrs. Lynde said approvingly.

Marilla winced slightly.  In her heart she hoped it would, but it went against her grain to hear the matter spoken of in Mrs. Lynde’s gossipy matter-of-fact way.

“They’re only children yet,” she said shortly.

Mrs. Lynde laughed good-naturedly.

“Anne is eighteen; I was married when I was that age.  We old folks, Marilla, are too much given to thinking children never grow up, that’s what.  Anne is a young woman and Gilbert’s a man, and he worships the ground she walks on, as any one can see.  He’s a fine fellow, and Anne can’t do better.  I hope she won’t get any romantic nonsense into her head at Redmond.  I don’t approve of them coeducational places and never did, that’s what.  I don’t believe,” concluded Mrs. Lynde solemnly, “that the students at such colleges ever do much else than flirt.”