(1 Chronicles of Avonlea.)

“What a nice play-time this has been,” said Anne.  “I feel like a giant refreshed.  And it’s only a fortnight more till I go back to Kingsport, and Redmond and Patty’s Place.  Patty’s Place is the dearest spot, Miss Lavendar.  I feel as if I had two homes—­one at Green Gables and one at Patty’s Place.  But where has the summer gone?  It doesn’t seem a day since I came home that spring evening with the Mayflowers.  When I was little I couldn’t see from one end of the summer to the other.  It stretched before me like an unending season.  Now, ’’tis a handbreadth, ‘tis a tale.’”

“Anne, are you and Gilbert Blythe as good friends as you used to be?” asked Miss Lavendar quietly.

“I am just as much Gilbert’s friend as ever I was, Miss Lavendar.”

Miss Lavendar shook her head.

“I see something’s gone wrong, Anne.  I’m going to be impertinent and ask what.  Have you quarrelled?”

“No; it’s only that Gilbert wants more than friendship and I can’t give him more.”

“Are you sure of that, Anne?”

“Perfectly sure.”

“I’m very, very sorry.”

“I wonder why everybody seems to think I ought to marry Gilbert Blythe,” said Anne petulantly.

“Because you were made and meant for each other, Anne—­that is why.  You needn’t toss that young head of yours.  It’s a fact.”

Chapter XXIV

Enter Jonas

“Prospect point, “August 20th.

“Dear Anne—­spelled—­with—­an—­E,” wrote Phil, “I must prop my eyelids open long enough to write you.  I’ve neglected you shamefully this summer, honey, but all my other correspondents have been neglected, too.  I have a huge pile of letters to answer, so I must gird up the loins of my mind and hoe in.  Excuse my mixed metaphors.  I’m fearfully sleepy.  Last night Cousin Emily and I were calling at a neighbor’s.  There were several other callers there, and as soon as those unfortunate creatures left, our hostess and her three daughters picked them all to pieces.  I knew they would begin on Cousin Emily and me as soon as the door shut behind us.  When we came home Mrs. Lilly informed us that the aforesaid neighbor’s hired boy was supposed to be down with scarlet fever.  You can always trust Mrs. Lilly to tell you cheerful things like that.  I have a horror of scarlet fever.  I couldn’t sleep when I went to bed for thinking of it.  I tossed and tumbled about, dreaming fearful dreams when I did snooze for a minute; and at three I wakened up with a high fever, a sore throat, and a raging headache.  I knew I had scarlet fever; I got up in a panic and hunted up Cousin Emily’s ‘doctor book’ to read up the symptoms.  Anne, I had them all.  So I went back to bed, and knowing the worst, slept like a top the rest of the night.  Though why a top should sleep sounder than anything else I never could understand.  But this morning I was quite well, so it couldn’t have been the fever.  I suppose if I did catch it last night it couldn’t have developed so soon.  I can remember that in daytime, but at three o’clock at night I never can be logical.