Laneway to the station,
three miles away. It was Saturday morning, and she was free from
school.
Mr. Laneway strolled down the lane before breakfast was ready, and
came back with a little bunch of pink anemones in his hand. Marilla
thought that he meant to give them to her, but he laid them beside her
grandmother's plate. "You mustn't put those in your desk," he said
with a smile, and Abby Hender blushed like a girl.
"I've got those others now, dried and put away somewhere in one of my
books," she said quietly, and Marilla wondered what they meant.
The two old friends shook hands warmly at parting. "I wish you could
have stayed another day, so I could have had the minister come and see
you," urged Mrs. Hender regretfully.
"You couldn't have done any more for me. I have had the best visit in
the world," he answered, a little shaken, and holding her hand a
moment longer, while Marilla sat, young and impatient, in the high
wagon. "You're a dear good woman, Abby. Sometimes when things have
gone wrong I've been sorry that I ever had to leave Winby."
The woman's clear eyes looked straight into his; then fell. "You
wouldn't have done everything you have for the country," she said.
"Give me a kiss; we're getting to be old folks now," said the General;
and they kissed each other gravely.
A moment later Abby Hender stood alone in her dooryard, watching and
waving her hand again and again, while the wagon rattled away down the
lane and turned into the high-road.
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