Emily of New Moon

it be true that we "count time by heart throbs" Emily lived two years in it instead of two days.

"I am important to myself," cried Emily proudly.

Go forward to meet it fearlessly, dear.

And always when the flash came to her Emily felt that life was a wonderful, mysterious thing of persistent beauty.

"I mean you'll be able to do something by and by. Something—I don't know how much—but keep on—keep on."

"They say Mrs John Killegrew has swallowed her wedding-ring. I wonder what she did that for.

I like Perry but in a different way from Teddy. Isn't it funny, dear Father, how many kinds of ways of liking there are?

But there is a destiny which shapes the ends of young misses who are born with the itch for writing tingling in their baby fingertips, and in the fullness of time this destiny gave to Emily the desire of her heart—gave it to her, too, on the very day when she most needed it.

"Why don't you like me?" she asked directly.

There was no reply. Emily looked straight at Chestnut-curls and repeated her question. Chestnut-curls felt herself compelled to answer it.

"Because you ain't a bit like us," she muttered.

"I wouldn't want to be," said Emily scornfully.

"It is a matter that concerns only myself,"