ANNE OF GREEN GABLES
it wound along a harbour shore and passed by a little cluster of weather-gray fishing huts; again it mounted to hills whence a far sweep of curving upland or misty blue sky could be seen; but wherever it went there was much of interest to discuss. It was almost noon when they reached town and found their way to “Beechwood.” It was quite a fine old mansion, set back from the street in a seclusion of green elms and branching beeches. Miss Barry met them at the door with a twinkle in her sharp black eyes.
“So you’ve come to see me at last, you Anne-girl,” she said. “Mercy, child, how you have grown! You’re taller than I am, I declare. And you’re ever so much better-looking than you used to be, too. But I dare say you know that without being told.”
“Indeed I didn’t,” said Anne radiantly. “I know I’m not so freckled as I used to be, so I’ve much to be thankful for, but I really hadn’t dared to hope there was any other improvement. I’m so glad you think there is, Miss Barry.”
Miss Barry’s house was furnished with “great magnificence,” as Anne told Marilla afterwards. The two little country girls were rather abashed by the splendour of the parlour where Miss Barry left them when she went to see about dinner.
“Isn’t it just like a palace?” whispered Diana. “I never was in Aunt Josephine’s house before, and I’d no idea it was so grand. I just wish Julia Bell
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