Everybody at Ingleside was fond of him, even Susan, although his one unfortunate propensity of sneaking into the spare room and going to sleep on the bed tried her affection sorely.
On this particular afternoon Rilla had no quarrel on hand with existing conditions.
"Hasn't June been a delightful month ?" she asked, looking dreamily afar at the little quiet silvery clouds hanging so peacefully over Rainbow Valley.

"We've had such lovely times--and such lovely weather.

It has just been perfect every way." "I don't half like that," said Miss Oliver, with a sigh.

"It's ominous--somehow.

A perfect thing is a gift of the gods--a sort of compensation for what is coming afterwards.