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III. Mr. Harrison at Home

           Harrisonassuredherthattherewereenoughinthehousetodoforweeksyet.Shewoulddearlyhavelovedtosweeptheflooralso,butnobroomwasvisibleandshedidnotliketoaskwhereitwasforfeartherewasn’toneatall.

           “Youmightrunacrossandtalktomeonceinawhile,”suggestedMr.Harrisonwhenshewasleaving.“‘Tisn’tfarandfolksoughttobeneighborly.I’mkindofinterestedinthatsocietyofyours.Seemstomethere’llbesomefuninit.Whoareyougoingtotacklefirst?”

           “WearenotgoingtomeddlewithPEOPLE...itisonlyPLACESwemeantoimprove,”saidAnne,inadignifiedtone.SherathersuspectedthatMr.Harrisonwasmakingfunoftheproject.

           WhenshehadgoneMr.Harrisonwatchedherfromthewindow...alithe,girlishshape,trippinglightheartedlyacrossthefieldsinthesunsetafterglow.

           “I’macrusty,lonesome,crabbedoldchap,”hesaidaloud,“butthere’ssomethingaboutthatlittlegirlmakesmefeelyoungagain...andit’ssuchapleasantsensationI’dliketohaveitrepeatedonceinawhile.”

           “Redheadedsnippet,”croakedGingermockingly.

           Mr.Harrisonshookhisfistattheparrot.

           “Youornerybird,”hemuttered,“IalmostwishI’dwrungyourneckwhenmybrotherthesailorbroughtyouhome.Willyouneverbedonegettingmeintotrouble?”

           AnneranhomeblithelyandrecountedheradventurestoMarilla,whohadbeennotalittlealarmedbyherlongabsenceandwasonthepointofstartingouttolookforher.

           “It’saprettygoodworld,afterall,isn’tit,Marilla?”concludedAnnehappily.“Mrs

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