The White Sands school teacher, an arch-eyed, red-mouthed bit a
girl--a Bell from Avonlea--who boarded with the James Monroes,
amused herself with the boys. All were enjoying themselves
hugely, so it is not to be wondered at that they did not miss
Robert, who had gone home early because his old housekeeper was
nervous if left alone at night.

He came again the next afternoon. From James, in the barnyard,
he learned that Malcolm and Ralph had driven to the harbor, that
Margaret and Mrs. James had gone to call on friends in Avonlea,
and that Edith was walking somewhere in the woods on the hill.
There was nobody in the house except Aunt Isabel and the teacher.

"You'd better wait and stay the evening," said James,
indifferently. "They'll all be back soon."

Robert went across the yard and sat down on the rustic bench in
the angle of the front porch. It was a fine December evening, as
mild as autumn; there had been no snow, and the long fields,
sloping down from the homestead, were brown and mellow. A weird,
dreamy stillness had fallen upon the purple earth, the windless
woods, the rain of the valleys, the sere meadows. Nature seemed
to have folded satisfied hands to rest, knowing that her long,
wintry slumber was coming upon her. Out to sea, a dull, red
sunset faded out into somber clouds, and the ceaseless voice of
many waters came up from the tawny shore.

Robert rested his chin on his hand and looked across the vales
and hills, where the feathery gray of leafless hardwoods was