miss. And I’ll make Jim toe the line all right. He’s a good worker—all he needs is some one to keep him at it, and to take charge of his money. We've rented a little farm just out of the village, and we’re going to settle down there. Jim wanted to stay in England but I says ‘No.’ I hankered to try a new country and I’ve always thought Canada would suit me.”
“I’m so glad you are going to live near us. You'll let Jims come here often, won’t you? I love him dearly.”
“No doubt you do, miss, for a lovabler child I never did see. We understand, Jim and me, what you've done for him, and you won't find us ungrateful. He can come here whenever you want him and I’ll always be glad of any advice from you about his bringing-up. He is more your baby than any one else’s I should say, and Ill see that you get your fair share of him, miss.”
So Jims went away—with the soup tureen, though not in it. Then the news of the armistice came, and even Glen St. Mary went mad. That night the village had a bonfire, and burned the Kaiser in effigy. The fishing village boys turned out and burned all the sandhills off in one grand glorious conflagration that extended for seven miles. Up at Ingleside Rilla ran laughing to her room.
“Now I'm going to do a most unladylike and inexcusable thing,” she said, as she pulled her green velvet hat out of its box. “I’m going to kick this hat about the room until it is without form and void; and I shall never as long as I live wear anything of that shade of green again.”
“You've certainly kept your vow pluckily,” laughed Miss Oliver.
