sprained her ankle so severely that she could not leave her room.
“And oh, Anne dear,” wrote Priscilla, “I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid we won’t get up to Green Gables at all now, for by the time Aunty’s ankle is well she will have to go back to Toronto. She has to be there by a certain date.”
“Well,” sighed Anne, laying the letter down on the red sandstone step of the back porch, where she was sitting, while the twilight rained down out of a dappled sky, “I always thought it was too good to be true that Mrs. Morgan should really come. But there . . . that speech sounds as pessimistic as Miss Eliza Andrews and I’m ashamed of making it. After all, it was not too good to be true . . . things just as good and far better are coming true for me all the time. And I suppose the events of to-day have a funny side too. Perhaps when Diana and I are old and gray we shall be able to laugh over them. But I feel that I can’t expect to do it before then, for it has truly been a bitter disappointment.”
“You’ll probably have a good many more and worse disappointments than that before you get through life,” said Marilla, who honestly thought she was making a comforting speech. “It seems to me, Anne, that you are never going to outgrow your fashion of setting your heart so on things and then crashing down into despair because you don’t get them.”
“I know I’m too much inclined that way,” agreed
