United States or Turkey ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !


"Nothing is fair in this world, child. Is it fair that I, who am so pretty you know I am pretty, Janet and who love life and excitement, should have to be buried on a P.E. Island farm all my days? Or else be an old maid because a Sparhallow mustn't marry beneath her? Come, Janet, don't look so woebegone. I wouldn't have told you if I'd thought you'd take it so much to heart.

Randall went as far as the stile in the birch wood between the Burnley and the Sparhallow land and he kept her there talking for another half-hour and though he talked only of a book he had read and a new puppy he was training, Janet listened with her soul in her ears. She talked too quite freely; she was never in the least shy or tongue-tied or awkward in Randall's company.

For Randall Burnley had been dangling after her for three years, and everybody knew that there was nobody for a Sparhallow to marry except a Burnley and nobody for a Burnley to marry except a Sparhallow. "Only one silk dress and I want a dozen," Avery had said scornfully. "What would you do with a dozen silk dresses on a farm?" Janet asked wonderingly.

She would be contented enough after she was married. Nobody could be discontented who was Randall Burnley's wife. Janet was sure of that. Janet liked picking apples; Avery did not like it; but Aunt Matilda had decreed that the red apples should be picked that afternoon, and Aunt Matilda's word was law at the Sparhallow farm, even for wilful Avery.

Avery Sparhallow did not seem so happy. She worked rather abstractedly and frowned oftener than she smiled. Avery Sparhallow was conceded to be a beauty, and had no rival in Burnley Beach. She was very pretty, with the obvious, indisputable prettiness of rich black hair, vivid, certain colour, and laughing, brilliant eyes. Nobody ever called Janet a beauty, or even thought her pretty.

Lawrence Gulf was visible through the groves of spruce and birch. There was a soft whisper of wind in the trees, and the pale purple asters that feathered the orchard grass swayed gently towards each other. Janet Sparhallow, who loved the outdoor world and its beauty, was, for the time being at least, very happy, as her little brown face, with its fine, satiny skin, plainly showed.

If Janet had known how to get herself away, she would have gone without asking for anything. Then a sound came from the lean-to behind the house. "S-s-h. I hear the devil grunting like a pig," muttered Granny, looking very impish. But Janet smiled a little contemptuously. She knew it was a pig and no devil. Granny Thomas was only an old fraud. Her awe passed away and left her cool Sparhallow.

"Janet Sparhallow, you talk as if you lived in the dark ages! The idea of supposing that horrid old woman could give you love philtres! Why, girl, I've always loved Bruce always. But I thought he'd forgotten me. And tonight when he came I found he hadn't. There's the whole thing in a nutshell. I'm going to marry him and go home with him to Scotland."

"It's all my fault oh, if I could only die I got the love ointment from Granny Thomas to rub on your eyes to make you love the first man you would see. I meant it to be Randall I thought it was Randall oh, Avery!" Avery had been listening, between amazement and anger. Now anger mastered amazement. "Janet Sparhallow," she cried, "are you crazy?

And Prissy promised. White Magic One September afternoon in the year of grace 1840 Avery and Janet Sparhallow were picking apples in their Uncle Daniel Sparhallow's big orchard. It was an afternoon of mellow sunshine; about them, beyond the orchard, were old harvest fields, mellowly bright and serene, and beyond the fields the sapphire curve of the St.