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Mrs. Reese ‘returned’ it, as meek as Moses, but she must have been furious, for she had on her new silk dress. The worst of it is, she was a Methodist.”

      “But I think that is better than if she was a Presbyterian,” interjected Susan. “If she had been a Presbyterian she would mostly likely have left the church and we cannot afford to lose our members. And Mrs. Reese is not liked in her own church, because she gives herself such great airs, so that the Methodists would be rather pleased that Mr. Meredith spoiled her dress.”

      “The point is, he made himself ridiculous, and I, for one, do not like to see my minister made ridiculous in the eyes of the Methodists,” said Miss Cornelia stiffly. “If he had had a wife it would not have happened.”

      “I do not see if he had a dozen wives how they could have prevented Mrs. Drew from using up her tough old gander for the wedding-feast,” said Susan stubbornly.

      “They say that was her husband’s doing,” said Miss Cornelia.

       “Jacob Drew is a conceited, stingy, domineering creature.”

      “And they do say he and his wife detest each other — which does not seem to me the proper way for married folks to get along. But then, of course, I have had no experience along that line,” said Susan, tossing her head. “And I am not one to blame everything on the men. Mrs. Drew is mean enough herself. They say that the only thing she was ever known to give away was a crock of butter made out of cream a rat had fell into. She contributed it to a church social. Nobody found out about the rat until afterwards.”

      “Fortunately, all the people the Merediths have offended so far are Methodists,” said Miss Cornelia. “That Jerry went to the Methodist prayer-meeting one night about a fortnight ago and sat beside old William Marsh who got up as usual and testified with fearful groans. ‘Do you feel any better now?” whispered Jerry when William sat down. Poor Jerry meant to be sympathetic, but Mr. Marsh thought he was impertinent and is furious at him. Of course, Jerry had no business to be in a Methodist prayer-meeting at all. But they go where they like.”

      “I hope they will not offend Mrs. Alec Davis of the Harbour Head,” said Susan. “She is a very touchy woman, I understand, but she is very well off and pays the most of any one to the salary. I have heard that she says the Merediths are the worst brought up children she ever saw.”

      “Every word you say convinces me more and more that the Merediths belong to the race that knows Joseph,” said Mistress Anne decidedly.

      “When all is said and done, they DO,” admitted Miss Cornelia. “And that balances everything. Anyway, we’ve got them now and we must just do the best we can by them and stick up for them to the Methodists. Well, I suppose I must be getting down harbour. Marshall will soon be home — he went over-harbour to-day — and wanting his super, manlike. I’m sorry I haven’t seen the other children. And where’s the doctor?”

      “Up at the Harbour Head. We’ve only been home three days and in that time he has spent three hours in his own bed and eaten two meals in his own house.”

      “Well, everybody who has been sick for the last six weeks has been waiting for him to come home — and I don’t blame them. When that over-harbour doctor married the undertaker’s daughter at Lowbridge people felt suspicious of him. It didn’t look well. You and the doctor must come down soon and tell us all about your trip. I suppose you’ve had a splendid time.”

      “We had,” agreed Anne. “It was the fulfilment of years of dreams. The old world is very lovely and very wonderful. But we have come back very well satisfied with our own land. Canada is the finest country in the world, Miss Cornelia.”

      “Nobody ever doubted that,” said Miss Cornelia, complacently.

      “And old P.E.I. is the loveliest province in it and Four Winds the loveliest spot in P.E.I.,” laughed Anne, looking adoringly out over the sunset splendour of glen and harbour and gulf. She waved her hand at it. “I saw nothing more beautiful than that in Europe, Miss Cornelia. Must you go? The children will be sorry to have missed you.”

      “They must come and see me soon. Tell them the doughnut jar is always full.”

      “Oh, at supper they were planning a descent on you. They’ll go soon; but they must settle down to school again now. And the twins are going to take music lessons.”

      “Not from the Methodist minister’s wife, I hope?” said Miss

       Cornelia anxiously.

      “No — from Rosemary West. I was up last evening to arrange it with her. What a pretty girl she is!”

      “Rosemary holds her own well. She isn’t as young as she once was.”

      “I thought her very charming. I’ve never had any real acquaintance with her, you know. Their house is so out of the way, and I’ve seldom ever seen her except at church.”

      “People always have liked Rosemary West, though they don’t understand her,” said Miss Cornelia, quite unconscious of the high tribute she was paying to Rosemary’s charm. “Ellen has always kept her down, so to speak. She has tyrannized over her, and yet she has always indulged her in a good many ways. Rosemary was engaged once, you know — to young Martin Crawford. His ship was wrecked on the Magdalens and all the crew were drowned. Rosemary was just a child — only seventeen. But she was never the same afterwards. She and Ellen have stayed very close at home since their mother’s death. They don’t often get to their own church at Lowbridge and I understand Ellen doesn’t approve of going too often to a Presbyterian church. To the Methodist she NEVER goes, I’ll say that much for her. That family of Wests have always been strong Episcopalians. Rosemary and Ellen are pretty well off. Rosemary doesn’t really need to give music lessons. She does it because she likes to. They are distantly related to Leslie, you know. Are the Fords coming to the harbour this summer?”

      “No. They are going on a trip to Japan and will probably be away for a year. Owen’s new novel is to have a Japanese setting. This will be the first summer that the dear old House of Dreams will be empty since we left it.”

      “I should think Owen Ford might find enough to write about in Canada without dragging his wife and his innocent children off to a heathen country like Japan,” grumbled Miss Cornelia. “The Life Book was the best book he’s ever written and he got the material for that right here in Four Winds.”

      “Captain Jim gave him the most of that, you know. And he collected it all over the world. But Owen’s books are all delightful, I think.”

      “Oh, they’re well enough as far as they go. I make it a point to read every one he writes, though I’ve always held, Anne dearie, that reading novels is a sinful waste of time. I shall write and tell him my opinion of this Japanese business, believe ME. Does he want Kenneth and Persis to be converted into pagans?”

      With which unanswerable conundrum Miss Cornelia took her departure. Susan proceeded to put Rilla in bed and Anne sat on the veranda steps under the early stars and dreamed her incorrigible dreams and learned all over again for the hundredth happy time what a moonrise splendour and sheen could be on Four Winds Harbour.

      III. The Ingleside Children

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      In daytime the Blythe children liked very well to play in the rich, soft greens and glooms of the big maple grove between Ingleside and the Glen St. Mary pond; but for evening revels there was no place like the little valley behind the maple grove. It was a fairy realm of romance to them. Once, looking from the attic windows of Ingleside, through the mist and aftermath of a summer thunderstorm, they had seen the beloved spot arched by a glorious rainbow, one end of which seemed to dip straight down to where a corner of the pond ran up into the lower end of the valley.

      “Let us call it Rainbow Valley,” said Walter delightedly, and

       Rainbow Valley thenceforth

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