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

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Take it chapter by chapter.

One bite so many adventures and mountains we can climb.

Welcome to Bite at a Time Books, where we read you your favorite classics one byte at a time.

My name is Brie Carlyle, and I love to read and wanted to share my passion with listeners like you.

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Today we'll be continuing anne of Aven Lee by Lucy Maud Montgomery, 28 the Prince comes back to the Enchanted Palace the last day of school came and went.

A triumphant semiannual examination was held, and Anne s pupils acquitted themselves splendidly at the close.

They gave her an address and a writing desk.

All the girls and ladies present cried, and some of the boys had it cast up to them later on that they cried, too, although they always denied it.

Mrs.

Harmon Andrews, mrs.

Peter Sloan and Mrs.

William Bell walked home together and talked things over.

I do think it is such a pity Anne is leaving when the children seem so much attached to her, sighed Mrs.

Peter Sloan, who had a habit of fying over everything and even finished off her jokes that way to be sure, she added hastily.

We all know we'll have a good teacher next year, too.

Jane will do her duty, I've no doubt, said Mrs.

Andrews rather stiffly.

I don't suppose she'll tell the children quite so many fairy tales or spend so much time roaming about the woods with them, but she has her name on the inspector's role of honor, and the newbridge people are in a terrible state over her leaving.

I'm real glad Anne is going to college, said Mrs.

Bell.

She's always wanted it, and it will be a splendid thing for her.

Well, I don't know.

Mrs.

Andrews was determined not to agree fully with anybody that day.

I don't see that Anne needs any more education.

She'll probably be marrying Gilbert Blithe if his infatuation for her lasts till he gets through college.

And what?

Google Latin and Greek.

Do her, then.

If they taught you at college how to manage a man, there might be some sense in her going.

Mrs.

Harmon Andrews, so avenley gossip whispered, had never learned how to manage her man, and as a result that Andrew's household was not exactly a model of domestic happiness.

I see that Charlotte Town call to Mr.

Allen is up before the presbytery said Mrs.

Bell.

That means we'll lose him soon.

I suppose they're not going before September, said Mrs.

Sloan.

It will be a great loss to the community, though.

I always did think that Mrs.

Allen dressed rather too gay for a minister's wife.

But we are none of us perfect.

Did you notice how neat and snug Mr.

Harrison looked today?

I never saw such a changed man.

He goes to church every Sunday and has subscribed to the salary.

Hasn't that Paul Irving grown to be a big boy?

Said Mrs.

Andrews.

He was such a might for his age when he came here.

I declare, I hardly knew him today.

He's getting to look a lot like his father.

He's a smart boy, said Mrs.

Bell.

He's smart enough.

But this is andrews lowered her voice.

I believe he tells queer stories.

Gracie came home from school one day last week with the greatest rigor moral.

He had told her about people who lived down at the shore.

Stories there couldn't be a word of truth in, you know.

I told Gracie not to believe them and she said Paul didn't intend her to.

But if he didn't, what did he tell them to her for?

Anne says Paul is a genius.

Said Mrs.

Sloan.

He may be.

You never know what to expect of them Americans, said Mrs.

Andrews.

Mrs.

Andrews only acquaintance with the word genius was derived from the colloquial fashion of calling any eccentric individual a queer genius.

She probably thought with Mary Joe that it meant a person with something wrong in his upper story.

Back in the schoolroom, Anne was sitting alone at her desk as she had sat on the first day of school two years before her face leaning on her hand, her dewy eyes looking wistfully out of the window to the lake of Shining Waters.

Her heart was so wrong over the parting with her pupils that for a moment college had lost all its charm.

She still felt the clasp of Annette Bell's arms about her neck and hurt the childish whale.

I'll never love any teacher as much as you, Miss Shirley.

Never.

Never.

For two years she had worked earnestly and faithfully making many mistakes, stakes and learning from them.

She had had her reward.

She had taught her scholars something but she felt that they had taught her much more lessons of tenderness, selfcontrol, innocent, wisdom, lore of childish hearts.

Perhaps she had not succeeded in inspiring any wonderful ambitions in her pupils but she had taught them more by her own sweet personality than by all her careful precepts that it was good and necessary in the years that were before them to live their lives finally and graciously holding fast to truth and courtesy and kindness keeping aloof from all that savored of falsehood and meanness and vulgarity.

They were perhaps all unconscious of having learned such lessons but they would remember and practice them long after they had forgotten the capital of Afghanistan and the dates of the wars of the Roses.

Another chapter in my life is closed, said Anne aloud as she locked her desk.

She really felt very sad over it.

But the romance and the idea of that closed chapter did comfort her a little.

Anne spent a fortnight at Echo Lodge early in her vacation and everybody concerned had a good time.

She took Miss Lavender on a shopping expedition to town and persuaded her to buy a new organ d dress.

Then came the excitement of cutting and making it together while the happy Charlotte of the fourth basted and slept up clippings.

Miss Lavender had complained that she could not feel much interest in anything but the sparkle came back to her eyes over her pretty dress.

What a foolish, frivolous person I must be, she sighed.

I'm wholesomely ashamed to think that a new dress, even if it is a ForgetMeNot organ d, should exhilarate me so when a good conscience and an extra contribution to foreign missions couldn't do it.

Midway in her visit, Anne went home to Green Gables for a day to mint the twin stockings and settle up Davies accumulated store of questions.

In the evenings she went down to the Shore Road to see Paul Irving.

As she passed by the low, square window of the Irving sitting room she caught a glimpse of Paul on somebody's lap.

But the next moment he came flying through the hall.

Oh, Miss Shirley.

He cried excitedly.

You can't think what has happened.

Something so splendid.

Father is here.

You just think of that.

Father is here.

Come right in, Father.

This is my beautiful teacher.

You know, Father.

Stephen Irving came forward to meet Anne with a smile.

He was a tall, handsome man of middleage with iron gray hair, deepset dark blue eyes and a strong, sad face splendidly modeled about chin and brow.

Just the face for a hero of romance and thought with a thrill of intense satisfaction.

It was so disappointing to meet someone who ought to be a hero and find him bald or stooped or otherwise lacking in manly beauty.

Anne would have thought it dreadful if the object of Miss Lavender's romance had not looked the part.

So this is my little son's, beautiful teacher of whom I've heard so much said.

Mr.

Irving with a hearty handshake.

Paul's letters have been so full of you, Miss Shirley, that I feel as if I were pretty well acquainted with you already.

I want to thank you for what you've done for Paul.

I think that your influence has been just what he needed.

Mother is one of the best and dearest of women.

But her robust, matter of fact, scotch common sense could not always understand a temperament like my laddies.

What was lacking in her you have supplied between you.

I think Paul's training in these two past years has been as nearly ideal as a motherless boys could be.

Everybody likes to be appreciated.

Under Mr.

Irving's praise, anne's face burst flowerlike into rosy bloom and the busy, weary man of the world, looking at her, thought he had never seen a fairer, sweeter slip of girlhood than this little downeast school teacher with her red hair and wonderful eyes.

Paul sat between them, blissfully happy.

I never dreamed Father was coming, he said radiantly.

Even Grandma didn't know it.

It was a great surprise, as a general thing.

Paul shook his brown curls gravely.

I don't like to be surprised.

You lose all the fun of expecting things when you're surprised, but in a case like this, it is all right.

Father came last night after I had gone to bed, and after Grandma and Mary Joe had stopped being surprised.

He and Grandma came upstairs to look at me, not meaning to wake me up till morning, but I woke right up and saw Father.

I tell you, I just sprang at him with a hug like a bears, said Mr.

Irving, putting his arms around Paul's shoulder, smilingly.

I hardly knew my boy.

He had grown so big and brown and sturdy.

I don't know which was the most pleased to see Father, Grandma or I, continued Paul.

Grandma has been in the kitchen all day making the things Father likes to eat.

She wouldn't trust them to marry Joe.

She says that's her way of showing gladness.

I liked best just to sit and talk to Father.

But I'm going to leave you for a little while now.

If you'll excuse me, I must get the cows for Mary Joe.

That is one of my daily duties.

When Paul had scampered away to do his daily duty, mr.

Irving talked to Anne of various matters.

But Anne felt that he was thinking of something else underneath all the time.

Presently, it came to the surface.

In Paul's last letter, he spoke of going with you to visit an old friend of mine, Ms.

Lewis, at the Stonehouse in Grafton.

Do you know her well?

Yes, indeed.

She's a very dear friend of mine, was Anne's demure reply, which gave no hint of the sudden thrill that tingled over her from head to foot.

At Mr.

Irving's question, anne felt instinctively that romance was peeping at her.

Around a corner, Mr.

Irving rose and went to the window, looking out on a great golden billowing sea where a wild wind was harping.

For a few moments there was silence in the little dark walled room.

Then he turned and looked down into Anne's sympathetic face with a smile half whimsical, half tender.

I wonder how much you know, he said.

I know all about it, replied Anne promptly.

You see, she explained hastily, miss Lavender and I are very intimate.

She wouldn't tell things of such a sacred nature to everybody.

We are kindred spirits.

Yes, I believe you are.

Well, I'm going to ask a favor of you.

I would like to go and see Mrs.

Lavender, if she will let me.

Will you ask her if I may come?

Would she not?

Oh, indeed she would.

Yes, this was romance, the very the real thing with all the charm of rhyme and story and dream.

It was a little belated, perhaps, like a rose blooming in October, which should have blossomed in June, but nonetheless arose all sweetness and fragrance with the gleam of gold in its heart.

Never did Aunt's feet bear her on a more willing errand than on that walk through the beechwoods to Grafton.

The next morning, she found Miss Lavender in the garden.

Anne was fearfully excited.

Her hands grew cold, and her voice trembled.

Miss Lavender, I have something to tell you, something very important.

Can you guess what it is?

And never supposed that Miss Lavender could guess.

But Miss Lavender's face grew very pale and Ms.

Lavender said in a quiet, still voice from which all the color and sparkle that Miss Lavender's voice usually suggested had faded, stephen Irving is home.

How did you know?

Who told you?

Cried Anne, disappointedly vexed that her great revelation had been anticipated.

Nobody I knew.

That must be it, just from the way you spoke.

He wants to come and see you, said Anne.

May I send him word that he may?

Yes, of course.

Fluttered.

Miss Lavender.

There's no reason why he shouldn't.

He's only coming as an old friend might.

Anne had her own opinion about that as she hastened into the house to write a note at Ms.

Lavender's desk.

Oh, it's delightful to be living in a storybook, she thought gayly.

It will come out all right.

Of course it must.

And Paul will have a mother after his own heart, and everybody will be happy.

But Mr.

Irving will take Miss Lavender away and dear knows what will happen to the little stone House.

And so there are two sides to it, as there seems to be to everything in this world.

The important note was written, and Anne herself carried it to the Grafton post office, where she waylaid the mail carrier and asked him to leave it in the Avonlea office.

It's so very important, and assured him anxiously.

The mail carrier was a rather grumpy old personage who did not at all looked the part of a messenger of Cupid, and Anne was none too certain that his memory was to be trusted.

But he said he would do his best to remember, and she had to be contented with that.

Charlotte of IV felt that some mystery pervaded the Stone House that afternoon, a mystery from which she was excluded.

Miss Lavender roamed about the garden in a distracted fashion.

Anne, too, seemed possessed by a demon of unrest and walked to and fro and went up and down.

Charlotte IV endured it till patience ceased to be a virtue.

Then she confronted Anne on the occasion of that romantic young person's third aimless pegganation through the kitchen.

Please, Miss Shirley, ma'am, said Charlotte of the fourth, with an indignant toss of her very blue bows, it's plain to be seen you and Miss Lavender have forgot a secret, and I think, begging your pardon if I'm too forward, Miss Shirley, ma'am, that it's real mean not to tell me when we've all been such chums.

Oh, Charlotte, dear, I'd have told you all about it if it were my secret.

But it's Ms.

Lavenders.

You see.

However, I'll tell you this much, and if nothing comes of it, you must never breathe a word about it to a living soul.

You see, Prince Charming is coming tonight.

He came long ago, but in a foolish moment went away and wandered afar and forgot the secret of the magic pathway to the enchanted castle, where the Princess was weeping her faithful heart out for him.

But at last he remembered it again.

And the Princess is waiting still, because nobody but her own dear Prince could carry her off.

Oh, Miss Shirley, ma'am.

What is that in prose?

Gasped the mystified Charlotte, and laughed in prose.

An old friend of Miss Lavenders is coming to see her tonight.

Do you mean an old bow of hers?

Demanded the literal Charlotte?

That is probably what I do mean in prose, answered Anne gravely.

It is Paul's father, Stephen Irving, and goodness knows what will come of it.

But let's hope it's for the best, Charlotta.

I hope he'll marry Miss Lavender.

Was Charlotte's unequivocal response?

Some women's intended from the start to be old maids, and I'm afraid I'm one of them, Miss Shirley, ma'am, because I have awful little patience with the men.

But Miss Lavender never was, and I've been awful worried, thinking what on earth she'd do when I got so big I'd have to go to Boston.

There aren't any more girls in our family, and Dear knows what she'd do if she got some stranger that might laugh at her pretendings and leave things lying round out of their place and not be willing to be called Charlotte V.

She might get someone who wouldn't be as unlucky as me in breaking dishes, but she'd never get anyone who'd love her better.

And the faithful little handmaiden dashed to the oven door with a sniff.

They went through the form of having tea as usual that night at Echo Lodge, but nobody really ate anything after tea.

Miss Lavender went to her room and put on her new ForgetMeNot organ d, while Anne did her hair for her.

Both were dreadfully excited, but Miss Lavender pretended to be very calm and indifferent.

I must really mend that rent in the curtain tomorrow, she said, anxiously, inspecting it as if it were the only thing of any importance just then.

Those curtains have not worn as well as they should, considering the price I paid.

Dear me, Charlotte has forgotten to dust the stair railing again.

I really must speak to her about it.

Anne was sitting on the porch steps when Stephen Irving came down the lane and across the garden.

This is the one place where time stands still, he said, looking around him with delighted eyes.

There's nothing changed about this house or garden since I was here 25 years ago.

It makes me feel young again, you know?

Time always does.

Stand still in an enchanted palace, said Anne seriously.

It is only when the prince comes that things begin to happen.

Mr.

Irving smiled a little sadly into her uplifted face.

All a star with its youth and promise.

Sometimes the prince comes too late, he said.

He did not ask Anne to translate her remark into prose.

Like all kindred spirits, he understood.

Oh, no, not if he is the real prince coming to the true princess, said Anne, shaking her red head decidedly as she opened the parlor door.

When he had gone in, she shut it tightly behind him and turned to confront Charlotte IV, who was in the hall, all nods and becks and wreathed smiles.

Oh, Miss Shirley, ma'am, she breathed.

I peeked from the kitchen window.

And he's awful handsome and just the right age for Miss Lavender and oh, Miss Shirley, ma'am, do you think it would be much harm to listen at the door?

It would be dreadful, Charlotte, said Anne firmly.

So just you come away with me out of the reach of temptation.

I can't do anything.

And it's awful to hang around just waiting, sighed Charlotte.

What if he don't propose after all, Miss Shirley, ma'am, you can never be sure of them men.

My older sister, Charlotte of IV thought she was engaged one once, but it turned out he had a different opinion, and she said she'll never trust one of them again.

And I heard of another case where a man thought he wanted one girl awful bad when it was really her sister he wanted all the time.

When a man don't know his own mind, Miss Shirley, ma'am, how's a poor woman going to be sure of it?

We'll go to the kitchen and clean the silver spoons, said Anne.

That's a task which won't require much thinking, fortunately, for I couldn't think tonight.

And it will pass the time.

It passed an hour.

Then, just as Anne laid down the last shining spoon, they heard the front door shut.

Both sought comfort fearfully in each other's eyes.

Oh, Miss Shirley, ma'am, gasped Charlotte, if he's going away this early, there's nothing into it and never will be.

They flew to the window.

Mr.

Irving had no intention of going away.

He and Miss Lavender were strolling slowly down the middle path to the stone bench.

Oh, Miss Shirley, ma'am.

He's got his arm around her waist, whispered Charlotte IV, delightedly.

He must have proposed to her, or she'd never allow it.

Anne caught Charlotte IV by her own plump waist and danced her around the kitchen until they were both out of breath.

Oh, Charlota.

She cried gaily.

I'm neither a prophetess nor the daughter of a prophetess, but I'm going to make a prediction.

There will be a wedding in this old stone house before the maple leaves are red.

Do you want that translated into pro Charlotta?

Now.

I can understand that, said Charlotte.

A wedding ain't poetry.

Why, Miss Shirley.

Ma'am, you're crying.

What for?

Oh, because it's all so beautiful and storybookish and romantic and sad, said Anne, winking the tears out of her eyes.

It's all perfectly lovely, but there's a little sadness mixed up in it, too, somehow.

Oh, of course there's a risk in marrying anybody, conceded Charlotte of the fourth.

But when all said and done, Miss Shirley ma'am, there's many a worse thing than a husband.

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