Readmiora

MARILLA, can I go over to see Diana just for a minute?” asked Anne, running breathlessly down from the east gable one February evening. “I don’t see what you want to be traipsing about after dark for,” said Marilla shortly. “You and Diana walked home from school together and then stood down there in the snow for half an hour more, your tongues going the whole blessed time, clickety-clack. So I don’t think you’re very badly off to see her again.” “But she wants to see me,” pleaded Anne. “She has something very impor…