"David," she whispered, as he helped her over the fence, "how can
you ever forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive," he said. "We're only just married.
Who ever heard of a bridegroom talking of forgiveness?
Everything is beginning over new for us, my girl."



IV. JANE'S BABY

Miss Rosetta Ellis, with her front hair in curl-papers, and her
back hair bound with a checked apron, was out in her breezy side
yard under the firs, shaking her parlor rugs, when Mr. Nathan
Patterson drove in. Miss Rosetta had seen him coming down the
long red hill, but she had not supposed he would be calling at
that time of the morning. So she had not run. Miss Rosetta
always ran if anybody called and her front hair was in
curl-papers; and, though the errand of the said caller might be
life or death, he or she had to wait until Miss Rosetta had taken
her hair out. Everybody in Avonlea knew this, because everybody
in Avonlea knew everything about everybody else.

But Mr. Patterson had wheeled into the lane so quickly and
unexpectedly that Miss Rosetta had had no time to run; so,
twitching off the checked apron, she stood her ground as calmly
as might be under the disagreeable consciousness of curl-papers.

"Good morning, Miss Ellis," said Mr. Patterson, so somberly that
Miss Rosetta instantly felt that he was the bearer of bad news.