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

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Take your chapter by chapter one fight so many adventures and mountains we can climb take your word for word line but line one part at a time.

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.

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Today we'll be continuing Anne of the island by Lucy Maud Montgomery.

Chapter 37 fullfledged.

I wish I were dead or that.

It were tomorrow night, groaned Phil.

If you live long enough, both wishes will come true, said Anne calmly.

It's easy for you to be serene.

You're at home in philosophy.

I'm not.

And when I think of that horrible.

Paper tomorrow, I quail if I should fail in it, what would Joe say?

You won't fail.

How did you get on in Greek today?

I don't know.

Perhaps it was a good paper.

And perhaps it was bad enough to make Homer turn over in his grave.

I've studied and mold over notebooks until.

I'm incapable of forming an opinion of anything.

How thankful little Phil will be when all this examinating is over.

Examinating?

I never heard such a word.

Well, haven't I as good a right to make a word as anyone else?

Demanded Phil.

Words aren't made, they grow, said Anne.

Never mind.

I begin faintly to discern clear water ahead where no examination breakers loom.

Girls, do you can you realize that.

Our Redmond life is almost over?

I can't, said Anne Sorrowfully.

It seems just yesterday that Prism and I were alone in that crowd of freshmen at Redmond.

And now we are seniors in our final examinations.

Potent, wise and reverend seniors, quoted Phil.

Do you suppose we really are any wiser than when we came to Redmond?

You don't act as if you were.

By times, said Aunt James severely.

Oh, Aunt Jim z.

Haven't we been pretty good girls?

Take us by and large these three.

Winters you've mothered us, pleaded Phil.

You've been four of the dearest, sweetest, goodest girls that ever went together through college.

I've heard Aunt James who never spoiled a compliment by misplaced economy.

But I mistrust.

You haven't any too much sense yet.

It's not to be expected.

Of course, experience teaches sense.

You can't learn it in a college course.

You've been to college four years.

And I never was.

But I know heaps more than you do.

Young ladies.

There are lots of things that never go by rule.

There's a powerful pile of knowledge that you never get at college.

There are heaps of things you never learn at school, quoted Stella.

Have you learned anything at Redmond except dead languages and geometry in such trash queried, Aunt James?

Oh, yes, I think we have ante, protested Anne.

We've learned the truth of what Professor Woodley told us last Philomatic, said Phil.

He said, humor is the spiciest condiment in the feast of existence.

Laugh at your mistakes, but learn from them.

Joke over your troubles, but gather strength from them.

Make adjust of your difficulties, but overcome them.

Isn't that worth learning?

Aunt Jim z.

Yes, it is, deary.

When you've learned to laugh at the things that should be laughed at and not to laugh at those that shouldn't, you've got wisdom and understanding.

What have you got out of your Redmond course, Anne?

Murmured Priscilla aside.

I think, said Anne slowly, that I really have learned to look upon each little hindrance as a jest and each great one is the foreshadowing of victory.

Summing up, I think that is what.

Redmond has given me.

I shall have to fall back on another Professor Woodley quotation to express what it has done for me, said Priscilla.

You remember that, he said in his address.

There is so much in the world for us all if we only have the eyes to see it and the heart to love it and the hand to gather it to ourselves.

So much in men and women, so much in art and literature, so much everywhere in which to delight and for which to be thankful.

I think Redmond has taught me that in some measure, Anne.

Judging from what you all say, remarked Aunt Jamesina, the sum and substances that you can learn if you've got natural gumption enough in four years at college, what it would take about 20 years of living to teach you, well, that justifies higher education, in my opinion.

It's a matter I was always dubious about before.

But what about people who haven't natural.

Gumption, Aunt Jim Z?

People who haven't natural gumption never learn, retorted Aunt James.

Neither in college nor life.

If they live to be a hundred and they really don't know anything more than when they were born, it's their misfortune, not their fault, poor souls.

But those of us who have some gumption should duly thank the Lord for it.

Will you please define what gumption is, Aunt Jim Z?

Asked Phil.

No, I won't.

Young Woman Anyone who has gumption knows what it is, and anyone who hasn't can never know what it is, so there's no need of defining it.

The busy days flew by and examinations were over.

Anne took high honors in English.

Priscilla took honors in Classics and Phil in mathematics.

Stella obtained a good allround showing.

Then came Convocation.

This is what I would once have called an epic in my life, said Anne as she took Roy's violets out of their box.

And gazed at them thoughtfully.

She meant to carry them, of course, but her eyes wandered to another box on her table.

It was filled with lilies of the valley, as fresh and fragrant as those which bloomed in the Green Gables yard.

When June came to Avonlea.

Gilbert blythe's card lay beside it.

Anne wondered why Gilbert should have sent her flowers for Convocation.

She had seen very little of him during the past winter.

He had come to Patty's place only one Friday evening since the Christmas holidays, and they rarely met elsewhere.

She knew he was studying very hard, aiming at high honors and the Cooper Prize, and he took little part in the social doings of Redmond.

Anne's own winter had been quite gay socially.

She had seen a good deal of the gardeners.

She and Dorothy were very intimate college circles, expected the announcement of her engagement to Roy any day and expected it herself.

Yet just before she left Patty's place for Convocation, she flung Roy's violets aside and put Gilbert's lilies of the valley in their place.

She could not have told why she did it.

Somehow old Aven Lee days and her dreams and friendships seemed very close to her in this attainment of her long cherished ambitions.

She and Gilbert had once pictured out merrily the day on which they should be capped and gowned graduates in Arts.

The wonderful day had come, and Roy's violets had no place in it.

Only her old friend's flowers seemed to belong to this fruition of old blossoming hopes which he once shared.

For years this day had beckoned and the Lord to her.

But when it came, the one single keen, abiding memory it left with her was not that of the breathless moment when the stately president of Redmond gave her cap and diploma in hilder BA.

It was not the flash of Gilbert's eyes when he saw her lilies, nor the puzzled, pained glance Roy gave her as he passed her on the platform.

It was not of a lean gardener's.

Condescending congratulations were Dorothy's ardent, impulsive good wishes.

It was of one strange, unaccountable pang that spoiled the song expected day for her and left in it a certain faint but enduring flavor of bitterness.

The arts graduates gave a graduation dance that night.

When Anne dressed for it, she tossed aside the pearl beads she usually wore and took from her trunk the small box that had come to Green Gables on Christmas Day.

And it was a thread like gold chain with a tiny pink enamel heart as a pendant on the accompanying card was written with all good wishes from your old chum Gilbert.

And laughing over the memory, the enamel heart conjured up the fatal day when Gilbert had called her carrots and vainly tried to make his peace with a pink candy heart, had written him a nice little note of thanks, but she had never worn the trinket.

Tonight she fastened about her white throat with a dreamy smile.

She and Phil walked to Redmond together and walked in silence, phil chattered of many things.

Suddenly she said, I heard today that Gilbert Blythe's engagement to Christine Stewart was to be announced as soon as Convocation was over.

Did you hear anything of it?

No, said Anne.

I think it's true, said Phil lightly.

Anne did not speak in the darkness.

She felt her face burning.

She slipped her hand inside her collar and caught at the gold chain one energetic twist, and it gave way and thrust the broken trinket into her pocket.

Her hands were trembling and her eyes were smarting.

But she was the gayest of all the gay revelers that night and told Gilbert unregretfully that her card was full when he came to ask her for a dance afterwards.

When she sat with the girls before the dying embers at Patty's place.

Removing the spring chilliness from their satin skins.

None chatted more blithely than she of the day's events.

Moody's Burgeon McPherson called here tonight after.

You left, said Aunt James, who had sat up to keep the fire on.

He didn't know about the graduation dance.

That boy ought to sleep with a rubber band around his head to train his ears not to stick out.

I had a bow once who did that, and it improved him immensely.

It was I who suggested it to him, and he took my advice, but he never forgave me for it.

Moody Spurgeon is a very serious young man, yawned Priscilla.

He is concerned with graver matters in his ears.

He is going to be a minister, you know.

Well, I suppose the Lord doesn't regard the ears of a man, said Aunt.

James, gravely, dropping all further criticism of Moody's.

Aunt James had a proper respect for the cloth, even in the case of an unfledged parson.

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