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But somehow-I don't know how it is but when Anne and them are together, though she ain't half as handsome, she makes them look kind of common and overdone-something like them white June lilies she calls narcissus alongside of the big, red peonies, that's what."

Anne had her "good" summer and enjoyed it wholeheartedly.

She and Diana fairly lived outdoors, reveling in all the delights that Lover's Lane and the Dryad's Bubble and Willowmere and Victoria Island afforded.

Marilla offered no objections to Anne's gypsyings.

The Spencervale doctor who had come the night Minnie May had the croup met Anne at the house of a patient one afternoon early in vacation, looked her over sharply, screwed up his mouth, shook his head, and sent a message to Marilla Cuthbert by another person.

It was:

"Keep that redheaded girl of yours in the open air all summer and don't let her read books until she gets more spring into her step."

This message frightened Marilla wholesomely.

She read Anne's death warrant by consumption in it unless it was scrupulously obeyed.

As a result, Anne had the golden summer of her life as far as freedom and frolic went.

She walked, rowed, berried, and dreamed to her heart's content; and when September came she was bright-eyed and alert, with a step that would have satisfied the Spencervale doctor and a heart full of ambition and zest once more.

"I feel just like studying with might and main," she declared as she brought her books down from the attic.

"Oh, you good old friends, I'm glad to see your honest faces once more-yes, even you, geometry.

I've had a perfectly beautiful summer, Marilla, and now I'm rejoicing as a strong man to run a race, as Mr. Allan said last Sunday.

Doesn't Mr. Allan preach magnificent sermons? Mrs. Lynde says he is improving every day and the first thing we know some city church will gobble him up and then we'll be left and have to turn to and break in another green preacher.

But I don't see the use of meeting trouble halfway, do you, Marilla? I think it would be better just to enjoy Mr. Allan while we have him.

If I were a man I think I'd be a minister.

They can have such an influence for good, if their theology is sound; and it must be thrilling to preach splendid sermons and stir your hearers' hearts.

Why can't women be ministers, Marilla? I asked Mrs. Lynde that and she was shocked and said it would be a scandalous thing.

She said there might be female ministers in the States and she believed there was, but thank goodness we hadn't got to that stage in Canada yet and she hoped we never would.

But I don't see why.

I think women would make splendid ministers.

When there is a social to be got up or a church tea or anything else to raise money the women have to turn to and do the work.

I'm sure Mrs. Lynde can pray every bit as well as Superintendent Bell and I've no doubt she could preach too with a little practice."

CHAPTER XXXI. Where the Brook and River Meet

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