My fire will give them my good-will and greeting--they will be gone before I come back, and my house will be mine once more.

Tonight I am sure it is keeping a tryst with the past." Laughing a little over her fancy, yet with something of a creepy sensation in the region of her spine, Anne kissed her hand to Gog and Magog and slipped out into the fog, with some of the new magazines under her arm for Leslie.
"Leslie's wild for books and magazines," Miss Cornelia had told her, "and she hardly ever sees one.

She can't afford to buy them or subscribe for them.

She's really pitifully poor, Anne.

I don't see how she makes out to live at all on the little rent the farm brings in.
She never even hints a complaint on the score of poverty, but I know what it must be.