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NY news from Green Gables, Anne?”

“Nothing very especial,” replied Anne, folding up Marilla’s letter. “Jake Donnell has been there shingling the roof. He is a full-fledged carpenter now, so it seems he has had his own way in regard to the choice of a life-work. You remember his mother wanted him to be a college professor. I shall never forget the day she came to the school and rated me for failing to call him St. Clair.”

“Does anyone ever call him that now?”

“Evidently not. It seems that he has completely lived it down. Even his mother has succumbed. I always thought that a boy with Jake’s chin and mouth would get his own way in the end. Diana writes me that Dora has a beau. Just think of it—that child!”

“Dora is seventeen,” said Gilbert. “Charlie Sloane and I were both mad about you when you were seventeen, Anne.”

“Really, Gilbert, we must be getting on in years,” said Anne, with a half-rueful smile, “when children who were six when we thought ourselves grown up