ANNE OF AVONLEA
by Lucy Maud Montgomery
To
my former teacher
HATTIE GORDON SMITH
in grateful remembrance of her
sympathy and encouragement.
Flowers spring to blossom where she walks
The careful ways of duty,
Our hard, stiff lines of life with her
Are flowing curves of beauty.
—WHITTIER
Contents
I
An Irate Neighbor
A tall, slim girl, “half-past sixteen,” with serious gray eyes and hair which her friends called auburn, had sat down on the broad red sandstone doorstep of a Prince Edward Island farmhouse one ripe afternoon in August, firmly resolved to construe so many lines of Virgil.