Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the twenty-eighth chapter of Anne of the Island by Lucy Maud Montgomery.

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Take your chapter by chapter one by adventures and mountains we can climb.

Take it worth a word line, but line one part at a time.

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Today we'll be continuing anne of the island by Lucy Maud Montgomery chapter 28 a June Evening I wonder what it would be like to live in a world where it was always June.

Said Anne as she came through the spice and bloom of the twilight orchard to the front door steps where Marilla and Mrs.

Rachel were sitting talking over Mrs.

Samson Coat's funeral.

Which they had attended that day.

Doris sat between them, diligently studying her lessons.

But Davy was sitting Taylor fashion on the grass, looking as gloomy and depressed as his single dimple would let him.

You'd get tired of it, said Marilla with a sigh.

I dare say, but just now I feel that it would take me a long time to get tired of it, if it were all as charming as today.

Everything loves June.

Davy boy, why the smelling, calling, November face in blossom time?

I'm just sick and tired of living.

Said the youthful pessimist.

All ten years.

Dear me, how sad.

I'm not making fun, said Davy with dignity.

I'm disdisouraged bringinging out the big word.

With a valiant effort.

Why and wherefore?

Asked Anne, sitting down beside him.

Because the new teacher that come when Mr.

Holmes got sick.

Give me ten sums to do for Monday.

It'll take me all day tomorrow to do them.

It isn't fair to have to work Saturdays.

Milty Bolter said he wouldn't do them, but Marilla says I've got to.

I don't like Ms.

Carson a bit.

Don't talk like that about your teacher.

Davy Keith, said Mrs.

Rachel severely.

Ms.

Carson is a very fine girl.

There's no nonsense about her.

That doesn't sound very attractive, laughed Anne.

I like people to have a little nonsense about them, but I'm inclined to have a better opinion of Ms.

Carson than you have.

I saw her in prayer meeting last night, and she has a pair of eyes that can't always look sensible.

Now, Davey boy, take heart of grace.

Tomorrow we'll bring another day and I'll.

Help you with the sums.

As far as in me lies, don't waste this lovely hour Twixed light and dark worrying over arithmetic.

Well, I won't, said Davy.

Brightening up.

If you help me with the sums, I'll have them done in time to.

Go fishing with Milty.

I wish old Aunt Atossa's funeral was tomorrow instead of today.

I wanted to go do it because Milty said his mother said Aunt Atossa would be sure to rise up in.

Her coffin and say sarcastic things to.

The folks that come to see her breed.

But Marilla said she didn't pour Atassa.

Laid in her coffin peacefully enough, said Mrs.

Lynn solemnly.

I never saw her look so pleasant before.

That's what?

Well, there weren't many tears shut over her, poor old soul.

The elisha rites are thankful to be rid of her, and I can't say I blame them a mite.

It seems to me a most dreadful thing to go out of the world and not leave one person behind you who is sorry you are gone, said Anne, shuddering.

Nobody except her parents ever loved poor Dasa, that's certain.

Not even her husband.

Averred mrs.

Lynde she was his fourth wife.

He had sort of got into the habit of marrying.

He only lived a few years after he married her.

The doctor said he died of dyspepsia, but I shall always maintain that he died of ATASA's tongue, that's what.

Poor soul.

She always knew everything about her neighbors, but she never was very well acquainted with herself.

Well, she's gone anyhow.

And I suppose the next excitement will be Diana's wedding.

It seems funny and horrible to think of Diana's being married, sighed Anne, hugging her knees and looking through the gap in the haunted wood to the light that was shining in Diana's room.

I don't see what's horrible about it.

When she's doing so well, said Mrs.

Lynd emphatically.

Fred Wright has a fine farm, and he has a model young man.

He certainly isn't the wild, dashing, wicked young man Diana once wanted to marry, smiled Anne.

Fred is extremely good.

That's just what he ought to be.

Would you want Diana to marry a wicked man or marry one yourself?

Oh, no.

I wouldn't want to marry anybody who was wicked.

But I think I'd like it if he could be wicked and wouldn't now.

Fred is hopelessly good.

You'll have more sense someday, I hope, said Marilla.

Marilla spoke rather bitterly.

She was grievously disappointed.

She knew Anne had refused Gilbert Blive.

Havenly gossip buzzed over the fact, which leaked out.

Nobody knew how.

Perhaps Charlie Sloan had guessed and told his guesses for truth.

Perhaps Diana had betrayed it to Fred, and Fred had been indiscreet.

At all events, it was known mrs.

Blyes.

No longer asked Anne in public or private if she had heard from Gilbert, but passed her by with a frosty bow.

Anne, who had always liked Gilbert's merry younghearted mother, was grieved in secret over this.

Marilla said nothing, but Mrs.

Lind gave Anne many exasperated digs about it until fresh gossip reached that worthy lady through the medium of moody spurgeon McPherson's mother that Anne had another bow at college, who was rich and handsome and good all in one.

After that, Mrs.

Rachel held her tongue, though she still wished in her inmost heart that Anne had accepted Gilbert.

Riches were all very well, but even Mrs.

Rachel, practical soul though she was, did not consider them the one essential.

If Anne liked the handsome unknown better than Gilbert, there was nothing more to be said.

But Mrs.

Rachel was dreadfully afraid that Anne was going to make the mistake of marrying for money.

Marilla knew Anne too well to fear this, but she felt that something in the universal scheme of things had gone sadly awry.

What is to be will be, said Mrs.

Rachel gloomily, and what isn't to be happens.

Sometimes I can't help believing it's going to happen in Anne's case.

If Providence doesn't interfere, that's what.

This is Rachel's side.

She was afraid Providence wouldn't interfere, and she didn't dare to.

Anne had wandered down to the dryad's bubble, and was curled up among the ferns at the root of the big white birch, where she and Gilbert had so often sat in summers gone by.

He had gone into the newspaper office again when college closed, and Aven Lee seemed very dull without him.

He never wrote to her, and Anne missed the letters that never came.

To be sure, Roy wrote twice a week.

His letters were exquisite compositions, which would have read beautifully in a memoir or biography.

Anne felt herself more deeply in love with him than ever when she read them, but her heart never gave the queer, quick, painful bound at sight of his letters which it had given.

One day, when Mrs.

Hiram Sloan had handed her an envelope addressed in Gilbert's black upright handwriting, anne had hurried home to the East Gable and opened it eagerly to find a typewritten copy of some college society report.

Only that, and nothing more.

Anne flung the harmless screed across her room and sat down to write an especially nice epistle to Roy.

Diana was to be married in five more days.

The gray house at Orchard Slope was in a turmoil of baking and brewing and boiling and stewing, for there was to be a big old timey wedding.

Anne, of course, was to be bridesmaid.

A** had been arranged when they were twelve years old, and Gilbert was coming from Kingsport to be best man.

Anne was enjoying the excitement of the various preparations, but under it all she carried a little heartache.

She was, in a sense, losing her dear old chum.

Diana's new home would be 2 miles from Green Gables, and the old constant companionship could never be theirs again.

Anne looked up at Diana's light and thought how it beakened to her for many years, but soon it would shine through the summer twilight no more.

Two big painful tears welled up in her gray eyes.

Oh, she thought how horrible it is that people have to grow up and marry and change.

Thank you for joining Byte at the Time Books today while we read a byte of one of your favorite classics.

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My name is Brie Carlyle, and I hope you come back tomorrow for the next bite of Anne of the island.