XV. The Beginning of Vacation

           Annelockedtheschoolhousedooronastill,yellowevening,whenthewindswerepurringinthesprucesaroundtheplayground,andtheshadowswerelongandlazybytheedgeofthewoods.Shedroppedthekeyintoherpocketwithasighofsatisfaction.Theschoolyearwasended,shehadbeenreengagedforthenext,withmanyexpressionsofsatisfaction....onlyMr.HarmonAndrewstoldhersheoughttousethestrapoftener...andtwodelightfulmonthsofawell-earnedvacationbeckonedherinvitingly.Annefeltatpeacewiththeworldandherselfasshewalkeddownthehillwithherbasketofflowersinherhand.SincetheearliestmayflowersAnnehadnevermissedherweeklypilgrimagetoMatthew’sgrave.EveryoneelseinAvonlea,exceptMarilla,hadalreadyforgottenquiet,shy,unimportantMatthewCuthbert;buthismemorywasstillgreeninAnne’sheartandalwayswouldbe.Shecouldneverforgetthekindoldmanwhohadbeenthefirsttogivehertheloveandsympathyherstarvedchildhoodhadcraved.

           Atthefootofthehillaboywassittingonthefenceintheshadowofthespruces...aboywithbig,dreamyeyesandabeautiful,sensitiveface.HeswungdownandjoinedAnne,smiling;butthereweretracesoftearsonhischeeks.

           “IthoughtI’dwaitforyou,teacher,becauseIknewyouweregoingtothegraveyard,”hesaid,slippinghishandintohers.“I’mgoingthere,too...I’mtakingthisbouquetofgeraniumstoputonGrandpaIrving’sgraveforgrandma.Andlook,teacher,I’mgoingtoputthisbunchofwhiterosesbesideGrandpa’sgraveinmemoryofmylittlemother...