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 that I don’t care to hear people say they’ve had a perfect time. June has been delightful, though.”

“Of course, it hasn’t been very exciting,” said Rilla. “The only exciting thing that has happened in the Glen for a year was old Miss Mead fainting in Church. Sometimes I wish something dramatic would happen once in a while.”

“Don’t wish it. Dramatic things always have a bitterness for some one. What a nice summer all you gay creatures will have! And me moping at Low-bridge!”

“You’ll be over often, won’t you? I think there’s going to be lots of fun this summer, though I’ll just be on the fringe of things as usual, I suppose. Isn’t it horrid when people keep thinking you’re a little girl when you’re not?”

“There’s plenty of time for you to be grown up, Rilla. Don’t wish your youth away. It goes too quickly. You’ll begin to taste life soon enough.”

“Taste life ! I want to eat it,” cried Rilla laughing. “I want everything—everything a girl can have. I’ll be fifteen in another month, and then nobody can say I’m a child any longer. I heard some one say once that the years from fifteen to nineteen are the best years in a girl’s life. I’m going to make them perfectly splendid—just fill them with fun.”

“There’s no use thinking about what you’re going to do—you are tolerably sure not to do it.”

“Oh, but you do get a lot of fun out of the thinking,” cried Rilla.

“You think of nothing but fun, you monkey,” said Miss Oliver indulgently, reflecting that Rilla’s chin was really the last word in chins. “Well, what else