"Anne, just trust me." Anne merely sighed and grabbed ahold of Gilbert's slippery hand. It was slippery from the rain. Anne's hair was drenched and a wonderful auburn color from the rain now, and Gilbert's brown curls were soaked to his face. «» What would Anne Shirley's life be like if she forgave Gilbert Blythe that schoolday when he tugged on her red braid and said none other than; "Carrots!"?