Wherever Rilla Blythe was, there was laughter. Marshall Elliott–were chatting together near the open door that led to the veranda, through which a cool, delicious breeze was blowing, bringing whiffs of phantom perfume from the garden, and charming gay echoes from the vine-hung corner where Rilla and Miss Oliver and Walter were laughing and talking.
Blythe and her visitor, Miss Cornelia– alias Mrs. Mary." Susan settled down keenly, reading each one over aloud to extract all possible gratification from it. There was a big, black headline on the front page of the Enterprise, stating that some Archduke Ferdinand or other had been assassinated at a place bearing the weird name of Sarajevo, but Susan tarried not over uninteresting, immaterial stuff like that she was in quest of something really vital. Therefore Susan had all the comfortable consciousness of a well-dressed woman as she opened her copy of the Daily Enterprise and prepared to read the Glen "Notes" which, as Miss Cornelia had just informed her, filled half a column of it and mentioned almost everybody at Ingleside. Marshall Elliott ever wore, and a white starched apron, trimmed with complicated crocheted lace fully five inches wide, not to mention insertion to match. Susan had on a new black silk blouse, quite as elaborate as anything Mrs. Mary ever did or could bloom, with peonies crimson, peonies silvery pink, peonies white as drifts of winter snow. Hyde and so had not grated on her nerves from where she sat she could see the pride of her heart–the bed of peonies of her own planting and culture, blooming as no other peony plot in Glen St. Susan just then was perfectly happy everything had gone almost uncannily well in the kitchen that day. In the big living-room at Ingleside Susan Baker sat down with a certain grim satisfaction hovering about her like an aura it was four o'clock and Susan, who had been working incessantly since six that morning, felt that she had fairly earned an hour of repose and gossip. IT was a warm, golden-cloudy, lovable afternoon. HYDE GOES TO HIS OWN PLACE AND SUSAN TAKES A HONEYMOON 358 SUSAN, RILLA, AND DOG MONDAY MAKE A RESOLUTION 70 WHO WENT AWAY FROM ME WHEN THE DAWN BROKEĪ RARE PERSONALITY, A LOYAL AND COURAGEOUS SOUL.ĬONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. Who with such splendour gave their youth away." "Rainbow Valley," ""The Story Girl," "The Watchman," etc. "RILLA READ HER FIRST LOVE LETTER IN HER RAINBOW VALLEY FIR-SHADOWED NOOK."Īuthor of "Anne of Green Gables," "Anne of the Island," "Anne's House of Dreams," A Celebration of Women Writers Rilla of Ingleside.
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