"But it will be rompers next--and then trousers--and in
no time he will be grown-up," she sighed.
"Well, you would not want him to stay a baby always,
Mrs. Doctor, dear, would you?" said Susan. "Bless his
innocent heart, he looks too sweet for anything in his
little short dresses, with his dear feet sticking out.
And think of the save in the ironing, Mrs. Doctor, dear."
"Anne, I have just had a letter from Owen," said
Leslie, entering with a bright face. "And, oh! I have
such good news. He writes me that he is going to buy
this place from the church trustees and keep it to
spend our summer vacations in. Anne, are you not glad?"
"Oh, Leslie, `glad' isn't the word for it! It seems
almost too good to be true. I sha'n't feel half so
badly now that I know this dear spot will never be
desecrated by a vandal tribe, or left to tumble down in
decay. Why, it's lovely! It's lovely!"
One October morning Anne wakened to the realisation
that she had slept for the last time under the roof of
her little house. The day was too busy to indulge
regret and when evening came the house was stripped and
bare.
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