But she never sharpened the latter on Anne, who continued to be a prime favorite with the critical old lady.
"That Anne-girl improves all the time," she said.

"I get tired of other girls--there is such a provoking and eternal sameness about them.

Anne has as many shades as a rainbow and every shade is the prettiest while it lasts.

I don't know that she is as amusing as she was when she was a child, but she makes me love her and I like people who make me love them.

It saves me so much trouble in making myself love them." Then, almost before anybody realized it, spring had come; out in Avonlea the Mayflowers were peeping pinkly out on the sere barrens where snow-wreaths lingered; and the "mist of green" was on the woods and in the valleys.