"Susan, after I'm dead I'm going to come back to earth every time when the       daffodils blow in this garden," said Anne rapturously. "Nobody may see me,       but I'll be here. If anybody is in the garden at the time—I THINK       I'll come on an evening just like this, but it MIGHT be just at dawn—a       lovely, pale-pinky spring dawn—they'll just see the daffodils       nodding wildly as if an extra gust of wind had blown past them, but it       will be I."     
                                  
                                     "Indeed, Mrs. Dr. dear, you will not be thinking of flaunting worldly       things like daffies after you are dead," said Susan. "And I do NOT believe       in ghosts, seen or unseen."     
                                  
                                     "Oh, Susan, I shall not be a ghost! That has such a horrible sound. I       shall just be ME. And I shall run around in the twilight, whether it is       morn or eve, and see all the spots I love. Do you remember how badly I       felt when I left our little House of Dreams, Susan? I thought I could       never love Ingleside so well. But I do. I love every inch of the ground       and every stick and stone on it."     
                                  
                                     "I am rather fond of the place myself," said Susan, who would have died if       she had been removed from it, "but we must not set our affections too much       on earthly things, Mrs. Dr. dear. There are such things as fires and       earthquakes. We should always be prepared. The Tom MacAllisters       over-harbour were burned out three nights ago. Some say Tom MacAllister       set the house on fire himself to get the insurance. That may or may not       be. But I advise the doctor to have our chimneys seen to at once. An ounce       of prevention is worth a pound of cure. But I see Mrs. Marshall Elliott       coming in at the gate, looking as if she had been sent for and couldn't       go."     
                                  
                                     "Anne dearie, have you seen the Journal to-day?"     
                                  
                                     Miss Cornelia's voice was trembling, partly from emotion, partly from the       fact that she had hurried up from the store too fast and lost her breath.     
                                  
                                     Anne bent over the daffodils to hide a smile. She and Gilbert had laughed       heartily and heartlessly over the front page of the Journal that       day, but she knew that to dear Miss Cornelia it was almost a tragedy, and       she must not wound her feelings by any display of levity.     
                                  
                                     "Isn't it dreadful? What IS to be done?" asked Miss Cornelia despairingly.       Miss Cornelia had vowed that she was done with worrying over the pranks of       the manse children, but she went on worrying just the same.     
                                  
                                     Anne led the way to the veranda, where Susan was knitting, with Shirley       and Rilla conning their primers on either side. Susan was already on her       second pair of stockings for Faith. Susan never worried over poor       humanity. She did what in her lay for its betterment and serenely left the       rest to the Higher Powers.     
                                  
                                     "Cornelia Elliott thinks she was born to run this world, Mrs. Dr. dear,"       she had once said to Anne, "and so she is always in a stew over something.       I have never thought I was, and so I go calmly along. Not but what       it has sometimes occurred to me that things might be run a little better       than they are. But it is not for us poor worms to nourish such thoughts.       They only make us uncomfortable and do not get us anywhere."     
                                      
                                   
                                              YOU ARE READING
Rainbow Valley √ (Project K.)
Classics*** ALL CREDITS TO L.M.MONTGOMERY*** The seventh installment in the 'Anne' series. Anne Shirley is grown up, has married her beloved Gilbert and now is the mother of six mischievous children. These boys and girls discover a special place all their o...
 
                                               
                                                  