You'll Never Write Anything That

Anne Reveled In The World Of Color About Her. "oh, Marilla," She Exclaimed One Saturday Morning, Coming Dancing In With Her Arms Full Of Gorgeous Boughs, "i'm So Glad I Live In A World Where There Are Octobers. It Would Be Terrible If We Just Skipped From September To November, Wouldn't It? Look At These Maple Branches. Don't They Give You A Thrill--several Thrills?

Valancy Herself Had Never Quite Relinquished A Certain Pitiful, Shamed, Little Hope That Romance Would Come Her Way Yet - Never, Until This Wet, Horrible Morning, When She Wakened To The Fact That She Was Twenty-nine And Unsought By Any Man. Ay, There Lay The Sting. Valancy Did Not Mind So Much Being An Old Maid. After All, She Thought, Being An Old Maid Couldn’t Possibly Be As Dreadful As Being Married To An Uncle Wellignton Or An Uncle Benjamin, Or Even An Uncle Herbert. What Hurt Her Was That She Had Never Had A Chance To Be Anything But An Old Maid.

Why, I've Never Even Had A Quarrel With Any One. I Haven't An Enemy. What A Spineless Thing I Must Be Not To Have Even One Enemy!

I Was Very Much Provoked. Of Course, I Knew There Are No Fairies; But That Needn't Prevent My Thinking There Is.

I'm So Glad I Live In A World Where There Are Octobers. It Would Be Terrible If We Just Skipped From September To November, Wouldn't It?