About the first of September there was an exodus from Ingleside and the manse. Faith, Nan, Di and Walter left for Redmond; Carl betook himself to his Harbour Head school and Shirley was off to Queen’s. Rilla was left alone at Ingleside and would have been very lonely if she had had time to be. She missed Walter keenly; since their talk in Rainbow Valley they had grown very near together and Rilla discussed problems with Walter which she never mentioned to others. But she was so busy with the Junior Reds and her baby that there was rarely a spare minute for loneliness; sometimes, for a brief space after she went to bed she cried a little in her pillow over Walter’s absence and Jem at Valcartier and Kenneth’s unromantic farewell message, but she was generally asleep before the tears got fairly started.
“Shall I make arrangements to have the baby sent to Hopetown?” the doctor asked one day two weeks after the baby’s arrival at Ingleside.
For a moment Rilla was tempted to say “yes.” The baby could be sent to Hopetown—it would be decently looked after—she could have her free days and untrammelled nights back again. But—but—that poor young mother who hadn’t wanted it to go to the asylum! Rilla couldn’t get that out of her thoughts. And that very morning she discovered that the baby had gained eight ounces since its coming to Ingleside. Rilla had felt such a thrill of pride over this.
“You— you said it mightn’t live if it went to Hopetown,” she said.
“It mightn’t. Somehow, institutional care, no matter how good it may be, doesn’t always succeed with
