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 gave a sigh of satisfaction, and softly alighted on the ridge-pole.

Half an hour later Gilbert ran down the hall and tapped on the spare-room door. A drowsy voice answered him and in a moment Marilla’s pale, scared face peeped out from behind the door.

“Marilla, Anne has sent me to tell you that a certain young gentleman has arrived here. He hasn’t brought much luggage with him, but he evidently means to stay.”

“For pity’s sake!” said Marilla blankly. “You don’t mean to tell me, Gilbert, that it’s all over. Why wasn’t I called?”

“Anne wouldn’t let us disturb you when there was no need. Nobody was called until about two hours ago. There was no ’passage perilous’ this time.”

“And—and—Gilbert—will this baby live?”

“He certainly will. He weighs ten pounds and—why, listen to him. Nothing wrong with his lungs, is there? The nurse says his hair will be red. Anne is furious with her, and I’m tickled to death.”

That was a wonderful day in the little house of dreams.

“The best dream of all has come true,” said Anne, pale and rapturous. “Oh, Marilla, I hardly dare believe it, after that horrible day last summer. I have had a heartache ever since then—but it is gone now.”

“This baby will take Joy’s place,” said Marilla.

“Oh, no, no, no, Marilla. He can’t—nothing can