XVI. The Substance of Things Hoped For

           “Anne,”saidDavyappealingly,scramblingupontheshiny,leather-coveredsofaintheGreenGableskitchen,whereAnnesat,readingaletter,“Anne,I’mAWFULhungry.You’venoidea.”

           “I’llgetyouapieceofbreadandbutterinaminute,”saidAnneabsently.Herletterevidentlycontainedsomeexcitingnews,forhercheekswereaspinkastherosesonthebigbushoutside,andhereyeswereasstarryasonlyAnne’seyescouldbe.

           “ButIain’tbreadandbutterhungry,”saidDavyinadisgustedtone.“I’mplumcakehungry.”

           “Oh,”laughedAnne,layingdownherletterandputtingherarmaboutDavytogivehimasqueeze,“that’sakindofhungerthatcanbeenduredverycomfortably,Davy-boy.Youknowit’soneofMarilla’srulesthatyoucan’thaveanythingbutbreadandbutterbetweenmeals.”

           “Well,gimmeapiecethen...please.”

           Davyhadbeenatlasttaughttosay“please,”buthegenerallytackeditonasanafterthought.HelookedwithapprovalatthegeneroussliceAnnepresentlybroughttohim.“Youalwaysputsuchanicelotofbutteronit,Anne.Marillaspreadsitprettythin.Itslipsdownaloteasierwhenthere’splentyofbutter.”

           Theslice“slippeddown”withtolerableease,judgingfromitsrapiddisappearance.Davyslidheadfirstoffthesofa,turnedadoublesomersaultontherug,andthensatupandannounceddecidedly,

           “Anne,I’vemadeupmymindaboutheaven.Idon’twanttogothere.”

           “Whynot?”askedAnnegravely.

           “CauseheavenisinSimonFletcher’sgarret,andIdon’tlikeSimonFletcher.”

           “Heavenin...