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The table is good, and the house is near the Academy, in a quiet neighborhood."

All this might be quite true, and indeed, proved to be so, but it did not materially help Anne in the first agony of homesickness that seized upon her.

She looked dismally about her narrow little room, with its dull-papered, pictureless walls, its small iron bedstead and empty book-case; and a horrible choke came into her throat as she thought of her own white room at Green Gables, where she would have the pleasant consciousness of a great green still outdoors, of sweet peas growing in the garden, and moonlight falling on the orchard, of the brook below the slope and the spruce boughs tossing in the night wind beyond it, of a vast starry sky, and the light from Diana's window shining out through the gap in the trees.

Here there was nothing of this; Anne knew that outside of her window was a hard street, with a network of telephone wires shutting out the sky, the tramp of alien feet, and a thousand lights gleaming on stranger faces.

She knew that she was going to cry, and fought against it.

"I WON'T cry.

It's silly-and weak-there's the third tear splashing down by my nose.

There are more coming! I must think of something funny to stop them.

But there's nothing funny except what is connected with Avonlea, and that only makes things worse-four-five-I'm going home next Friday, but that seems a hundred years away.

Oh, Matthew is nearly home by now-and Marilla is at the gate, looking down the lane for him-six-seven-eight-oh, there's no use in counting them! They're coming in a flood presently.

I can't cheer up-I don't WANT to cheer up.

It's nicer to be miserable!"

The flood of tears would have come, no doubt, had not Josie Pye appeared at that moment. In the joy of seeing a familiar face Anne forgot that there had never been much love lost between her and Josie. As a part of Avonlea life even a Pye was welcome.

"I'm so glad you came up," Anne said sincerely.

"You've been crying," remarked Josie, with aggravating pity.

"I suppose you're homesick-some people have so little self-control in that respect.

I've no intention of being homesick, I can tell you.

Town's too jolly after that poky old Avonlea.

I wonder how I ever existed there so long.

You shouldn't cry, Anne; it isn't becoming, for your nose and eyes get red, and then you seem ALL red.

I'd a perfectly scrumptious time in the Academy today.

Our French professor is simply a duck.

His moustache would give you kerwollowps of the heart.

Have you anything eatable around, Anne? I'm literally starving.

Ah, I guessed likely Marilla'd load you up with cake.

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