Mrs. Marjorie Lynde was what some of the Avonlea folk called nosy, and what the nicer folk called knowledgeable. Either way, it was her sixth sense for gossip that led her out onto her porch one sunny spring morning and led her to see a strange sight. Mr. Bob Vance was in his buggy, not his work wagon, and what was more, he was dressed in a suit.  

"Thomas! Bob Vance is in his buggy and he's wearing a suit!" she called to her husband, who was so mild-mannered that folks called him 'Marjorie Lynde's husband'.

"Perhaps he's going courting," Thomas said from his garden, where he was pruning his roses.     

Marjorie looked annoyed and said, "Thomas, don't joke. You know very well that he's happily married to Phyllis."

            Thomas shrugged, and Marjorie peered down the road toward Green Gables. "Well, Phyllis will just have to explain herself," she said more to herself than to her husband, hurrying into the house and finding her second best hat and untying her apron.

She made her way down the tree-lined lane that led to Green Gables. People still called it the Cuthbert place, even though Phyllis Cuthbert had surprised the entire village five years ago by agreeing to walk home from church with Bob Vance, of Vance Dairy. He had been a bachelor living with his brothers, and two years ago, he and Phyllis had married. He had moved into Green Gables and operated a modest dairy outfit, to which Marjorie was fiercely loyal.  She maintained that the milk from his cows was sweeter and more wholesome than that of the Newbridge dairyman's cows.

Marjorie strode purposefully up to the white farmhouse with green trim, from which Green Gables got its name and knocked on the kitchen door.

Something that could be called friendship existed between Marjorie and Phyllis, who had known each other since they were girls. A back complaint had kept Phyllis from running and playing with the other children at times, and she had always been quiet. This was quite a difference from Marjorie, who had been outspoken her whole life, and while Marjorie had married young and raised ten successful children, Phyllis had played dutiful daughter and cared for her aged parents, who were both gone now. She had never married, which made it all the more shocking when Bob Vance of Vance Dairy had walked her home from church some years previously. 

Phyllis opened the kitchen door and smiled. "Good morning, Marjorie," she said, untying her calico apron and smoothing her spotless shirtwaist. As Marjorie strode in, Phyllis continued, "Won't you come in and have some tea?"

            Marjorie looked with interest at the worn but spotless wooden table. It was set for tea for three, but Phyllis had used the everyday dishes, not the company china. There was only one kind of cake, and just one kind of preserves, which was not like Phyllis at all. Marjorie was perplexed, and she looked at Phyllis in consternation. "Oh, please tell me why Bob was in his buggy in a suit! He was going too slowly for a doctor!" she said anxiously. Phyllis smiled as she turned to the woodstove and set a kettle to boil. 

"Bob and I have decided to adopt a little boy from the orphan asylum in Hopetown," she said, taking another teacup and saucer from the cupboard by the pump.

Marjorie ignored all rules of civility as her jaw fell open in shock. "Phyllis Cuthbert, whyever would you do that?" she cried.

"Phyllis Vance, and we decided this past winter when Mrs. Alexander Spencer was up to visit. She's getting a little girl for herself, and we figured since we won't be blessed with children, we should consider adopting one. Bob's getting up in years, and he needs a bit of extra help with the dairy. His brother Randolph might be moving out West," said Phyllis, settling down at the kitchen table.

Marjorie still sat dumbly. Of all the things she expected her meek friend to do, adopting an orphan boy was the very last. She wouldn't have been more surprised to hear they were adopting a kangaroo from Australia. 

Phyllis cut some cake as she continued, "We asked Mrs. Spencer to choose a likely boy of ten or twelve, young enough to raise right but old enough to be of some help on the farm. Bob is picking him up at the train station in Bright River this morning."

"Well, Phyllis, I hope you are prepared to reap the consequences," said Marjorie breathlessly as she liberally poured cream into her tea, "I've heard horror stories about orphans stealing and lying, and just last year, an orphan over in Carmody killed the whole family- put strychnine in the well. Only that one was a girl."

"Well, we're not getting a girl. I would have no idea what to do with a girl, and I don't need any help with the housework. I've managed quite well on my own all these years, and a boy would be so much more helpful on the farm," said Phyllis, and Marjorie nodded. 

"I've raised five of each, and I can tell you, boys are easier," she said. 

The two friends took their tea in affable silence, each occupied with her own thoughts about what this child might bring. Phyllis decided it would be so nice to have a child's voice in the house, and Bob could train him up to be a real good farmer, and then Green Gables would be his someday. Marjorie decided she would just have to wait and see if this child was a stealer or a poisoner. 

After tea, Marjorie stood and thanked Phyllis. "I have to be getting on down to Lawson's to buy a few odds and ends," she said, and Phyllis knew the story would be all over the entire village in just a few moments.

"Thank you for the visit, and do drop in tomorrow to meet the boy, won't you?" Phyllis asked, knowing she'd be lucky if Marjorie waited a whole day.

"Of course I will. Good luck, Phyllis," said Marjorie as she left Green Gables, thinking privately that Phyllis would have her work cut out for her. 

While the ladies were having their tea, Bob Vance was driving along the shore road that led to Bright River to pick up the newest member of the family. Bob was a quiet man who loved his cows and loved his wife, and though he liked his simple life, he was interested in the idea of having a child in the house. He would have a son to help him on the farm, and the thought rather tickled him.

He clucked to the sorrel mare, and they trotted up the road as the Bright River depot came into view, a small whitewashed building surrounded by cherry trees and railroad tracks. The only person in sight was a little girl of eleven or twelve perched expectantly on a bench, as though waiting for someone to claim her.

Bob drew his horse to a stop next to the depot and climbed down. The sorrel mare nudged his shoulder docilely, and he patted her rump and hitched her to the hitching post.

Crossing the creaky wooden porch, he sidled past the girl without speaking. Little girls made him slightly nervous, with the way they giggled and fluttered around, and this one watched him with wide hazel eyes as he passed her and entered the depot.

"Morning, Angus," he said to the stationmaster, "I've come to pick up a rather large package." The stationmaster laughed and pointed outside to where the girl was surreptitiously peeking in the window. "She's waiting for you right there, Bob. I asked her if she'd like to wait in the ladies' waiting room, and she said since she wasn't quite a lady yet, she'd prefer to sit out under the cherry trees where there was more 'scope for the imagination.'"

Bob looked outside in confusion. "It's a boy I've come for," he said, "Mrs. Alexander Spencer was to drop him off here before she went on to White Sands."

The station master shook his head. "Well, I dunno. Mrs. Spencer said the girl was to wait here, that you and the missus were adopting her," he said, and Bob looked out the window in consternation. "I suppose I'd better take her home with me and we can figure out what happened," he said. The stationmaster laughed, "Well, she won't have a problem telling you, she's got a tongue of her own." 

Bob bade him goodbye and started toward the door to begin the dreaded task of talking to a little girl. It wasn't that he didn't like them; he just hadn't been around them much, having only brothers and no nieces.

On the porch, the little girl stood up as he exited. "Are you Mr. Bob Vance? Mrs. Spencer told me to wait here for a Mr. Bob Vance, and I wasn't sure if you had forgotten about me, and I had made up my mind that I would spend the night in that cherry tree, like a little brown bird. Of course, I am very glad that you did come," she said breathlessly and then looked startled. "You are Mr. Bob Vance, aren't you?" she asked hesitantly. Bob nodded, speechless.

The little creature before him smiled. "Oh, I'm very glad," she said, and Bob leaned over to pick up her worn carpetbag. "Oh, I can take that, it's very light, and if you don't hold the handle just so, it falls off," she said. Bob nodded again, and they walked over to the buggy. She scrambled right up without any assistance, and Bob unhitched the mare. He settled into his seat and clucked to the mare.

The little girl sighed as they started off down the road. "This is just the most beautiful piece of land that I've ever seen. Flowers and trees everywhere! At the asylum, we only had a few sad little trees and no flowers lasted long enough to bloom without being picked or trampled," she said, gazing rapturously at the scenery. It was nice, Bob thought, never having meditated much on the foliage surrounding him.

He glanced sidelong at the girl.  She was a skinny little thing with pale skin and a quick smile. Her eyes were big, drinking in all the sights surrounding her, and she had an abundant quantity of very bushy reddish brown hair. She was garbed in a too-small dress of an ugly-colored fabric; her elbows were patched and her stockings were darned within an inch of their lives. 

She glanced at him and smiled again. "Oh, please don't look at my dress, it's just dreadful, isn't it? I feel as though I'm held together by patches! A local storekeeper donated hundreds of yards of this material to the asylum, and though I like to think it was out of the kindness of his heart, I'm convinced he just couldn't sell it," she said so frankly that Bob smiled. This child didn't seem to be cut from the same fabric as the specimens of Avonlea girlhood that he was used to.

She continued her dialogue as they drove along the shore road. "I think 'shore road' is such a lovely name, full of mystery, don't you think? You never know what might lie ahead on the shore road," she said, and Bob felt a little dizzy.

"Mrs. Spencer said you have a dairy farm, and I must say, I do look forward to meeting some cows. They have got such soulful eyes, don't you think?" she asked, and Bob shrugged. "I dunno," he said, speaking for the first time since their journey had begun, "I never thought about it. But I'll tell you, they give the sweetest milk that makes real good ice cream."

The girl clasped her hands joyously. "I've never tasted ice cream, and it just sounds so lovely!" she cried, "Do you know, I've always thought it would be just the most pleasant delicacy to have a bowl of berries and cream for my breakfast?"

"Well, we have plenty of both at Green Gables," Bob replied, and she smiled happily. She opened her mouth as though to speak again, but her eyes widened and she was silent for a moment. "Oh, Mr. Vance, what is this place?" she asked quietly, staring at what Avonlea folks called The Avenue. It was a winding road surrounded by a canopy of the most fragrant, blossoming trees, and the child seemed struck dumb by the beauty of it all.

"This is the Avenue," he replied, and she shook her head. "That name just doesn't describe the absolute beauty of it. It should be called the White Way of Delight," she said, reaching out and gently tugging off one of the blossoms. "If I had my sketch book, I'd draw this exactly as it is, because it could not be more perfect. I used to have a wee sketch book, and I'd draw little pictures to show the other children, but Matron took it away after I had drawn a funny picture of her when I was supposed to be doing my school work." 

Bob nodded in sympathy and the sorrel mare turned from the Avenue onto the road alongside Barry's Pond. "Mr. Vance! I would draw this exactly as it is, too! What is it called?" the child cried again.

"Well, this is Barry's Pond, because Mr. Barry lives up yonder and owns this piece of land," explained Bob, "He's one of our neighbors, if you just cut through the woods and nip down the lane a bit."

The child looked at the slowly drifting water. "I would call this the Lake of Shining Waters," she said, and then glanced up at the house on the slope. "Has Mr. Barry any little girls?" she asked timidly.

"He's got one right around your age, Kelly is her name," replied Bob, chirruping to the mare, who was taking her steady time.

"I never heard of a girl named Kelly before," said the child, looking interested.

"It's a little outlandish for my liking; I'd rather something sensible like Jane or Mary, but a schoolmaster was boarding with them when she was born, and he said she had eyes as kelly green as the Irish hills, so they named her Kelly," explained Bob.

"Oh, that's a lovely story. I wish I would have been named for Irish hills. My parents named me Pamela, which I don't care for, it sounds so close to 'camel', and that's what some of the more horrid boys called me at the asylum. I don't think I'd like to be a dirty great lumpy animal. I saw a picture of a camel once and I haven't cared for my name since. Have you ever seen a picture of a camel? I prefer to be called Pam; Matron once said that it was a short and sweet name, just like me."

At this, she stopped to take a breath, and then continued, "Oh, I hope Kelly is pretty, I would so love to be pretty, and it would be a boon to have a pretty friend. What kind of hair does she have?"

Bob reflected for a moment. "She's got straight black hair," he said, and Pam sighed, "Oh, that must be so wonderful, to have hair that's not so curly and frizzy. Matron cut mine short once, and the other children called me a sheared sheep."

Bob pointed ahead down the lane. "Down there's Green Gables," he said, as it moved into sight.

Pam gazed at the farmhouse and the long barn with the woods beyond, and the little brook tripping merrily and gasped, "It's beautiful! I’ve been pinching myself to see if it's really real, and it is. It's just so nice to think that I'm going to live here and belong to you and your wife."

Bob shifted in his seat. He had not mentioned the fact that she was not the boy they had expected and wondered what Phyllis would say.

Pam grew quiet as they approached the house, and alighted from the buggy without a word. She followed Bob up the porch steps and inhaled nervously as she stepped over the threshold into the kitchen.  

Phyllis turned to see them wiping her hands on her apron. She looked at Pam with surprise. "Bob Vance, who is this? Where's the boy?" she asked confusedly.

Bob looked sheepish. "There was no boy, just her, and I figured I couldn't leave her there, so here she is," he said, and Phyllis looked even more confused. "Well, I suppose that's what happens when we send word rather than going ourselves," she said. 

Pam looked between them, bewildered. "You don't want me because I'm not a boy? I should have known that this was all too beautiful to be true," she said sadly, and Phyllis frowned. "Now, now, don't get upset. We'll get to the bottom of this. What's your name?" she asked.

Pam looked up with wide eyes and hesitated before saying, "Would you please call me Cordelia?"

Bob turned away with a smile, and Phyllis looked at the girl. 'Call you Cordelia? Is that your name?"

The child wilted. "No, but I do think Cordelia is the most lovely name in the world. It’s much nicer than Pamela," she said, and Phyllis sighed, "Pamela is a good, strong name."

Pam nodded and said, "If I can't be Cordelia, would you please call me Pam? It suits me better than Pamela."

Phyllis nodded and motioned toward the table. "Let's have a bite of supper and then you can lie down for a nap, Pam; you look plumb tired out," she said, “Bob and I will have a talk and figure out what is to become of you."

Pam nodded meekly as they sat down at the table. The meal was held in uncomfortable near-silence, with only Bob making small talk about the cows.

After Pam had eaten a sufficient amount of cake and preserves, Phyllis led her upstairs to the east gable bedroom. "You can sleep in here for the time being," she said, thankful that she had thoroughly cleaned this room recently, so that not even a speck of dust remained. Pam's hazel eyes took in the little bed with its cheery patchwork coverlet and the tiny table under the window that would be a perfect easel and nodded.

Phyllis closed the door behind her and moved down the stairs to talk with her husband. As they were deciding her fate, a lonely little girl cried herself to sleep.

Nearly a week had passed since Pam had arrived at Green Gables, and she had made the acquaintance of every tree, flower and animal on the entire property, not to mention Mrs. Lynde. The only entity she had not met yet was the promising Kelly Barry, who had been in Charlottetown visiting her aunt.

Pam anxiously awaited her return, though it was with some trepidation that she entered the kitchen on the day of Kelly's return. Phyllis was there with Mrs. Marjorie Lynde, having tea.

“Good morning, Pam,” said the latter, “How are you today?”

Pam smiled a small smile. “Extremely well in body, but considerably rumpled in spirit,” she said, “Phyllis, may I go visit Bob in the barn?”

Phyllis smiled. “Certainly,” she said, “but mind you don't get dirty, and come back soon. It’ll be time to dress for the Sunday school picnic.” 

Pam nodded fervently and dashed out the door.  “She's real sweet little thing,” said Phyllis, “She's nervous about meeting little Kelly Barry. She says she's never met a kindred spirit at the orphanages, and she hopes that she and Kelly can be bosom friends.”

Marjorie sniffed and nodded. She wasn't about to admit she had been wrong in forming opinions about orphaned girls, so she said, “She doesn't quite seem the type to put strychnine in the well.”

Phyllis laughed. “I should hope not. She's darling. She asked us if we wouldn't mind if she didn't call us Mother and Father, since she didn't want to 'revoke the memory of her parents.'”

Marjorie nodded in approval. “She's an interesting creature; and my goodness, that hair! I generally prefer long, smooth curls like Katy Pye has got, but Pam's hair suits her, in a way."

*

Pam's morning fairly flew by, and in no time at all, she was standing between Bob and Phyllis, surveying the bustling lawn at the Barry house, where the Sunday school picnic was in full swing.

She was scrubbed and clean, her cheeks flushed. She was attired in a new dress Phyllis had made her, a pale blue and grey striped starched cotton made up rather plainly. Phyllis had not much experience in sewing for young girls, and therefore did not realize what a boon puffed sleeves and frills could be to a young maiden. Pam would never dream of asking for frills, for she  hoped never to hurt Phyllis's feelings.

Phyllis motioned across the lawn, and Pam followed her over to a tall, dark-haired woman in a white lawn dress. “Mrs. Barry, how nice of you to invite us,” said Phyllis by way of a greeting, and Pam smiled shyly.

Mrs. Barry smiled, “How do you do, Phyllis? This must be the girl you've adopted.”

Pam proffered her hand as Phyllis said, “Yes, this is Pam Shirley. Pam, this is Mrs. Barry.”

Mrs. Barry shook her hand as Pam said, “How do you do, Mrs. Barry?”

“My daughter Kelly has been looking forward to meeting you, Pam,” said the kind lady, beckoning behind Pam. A girl her own age came running lightly over to stand beside her mother. She had long black hair that supported a large pink bow, and her dress was of beautiful rose sateen, with the puffiest sleeves Pam could ever have hoped for.

“Kelly, perhaps Pam would care for some ice cream,” said Mrs. Barry, and Kelly's eyes shone as she took Pam by the hand and trotted over to the ice cream table.

Pam savored each bite of the ice cream; she had helped Bob make it the day before, flavoring it delicately with strawberries, and she thought that it tasted much better in the company of a friend.

“Mother says you're just my age, so maybe we can sit together in school,” said Kelly, leading Pam over to a large swing hanging from the branches of a genteel old tree. “I think it will be jolly fun to have a girl so close by. I haven’t anyone to play with, really. I had a sister, but she died of the galloping consumption when I was just five. Say, isn't this ice cream delicious?”

Pam felt slightly dizzy, possibly from the gentle motion of the swing, but more likely from Kelly's speech, which seemingly surpassed her own when she was excited. She smiled. “It even tastes pink,” she said, and was about to speak again when two boys ran past them, kicking up dirt.

“Kelly, who's your friend?" called the shorter one, a round boy with dark hair. Kelly tossed her hair and said, “She's Pam Shirley and you just leave us alone, Kevin Spurgeon MacPherson!”

The boys ran away, though the tall one gave Pam a little wave before he turned, stumbling, to catch up with his friend. “Who were they?” asked Pam.

“The short one's Kevin Spurgeon MacPherson, and the taller one is Toby Sloane. Can you believe his mother still keeps him in short pants? It’s quite silly.” answered Kelly.

“Are they in our class?” asked Pam. “Yes, and now there's almost as many girls as boys in our class, now that you're here,” answered Kelly, “Although now that I think about it, Jim Blythe is coming back this year. He's a year older than us, but he's in our class. His father took sick and went to the shore, and Jim went with him, so he's behind on school work.”

“Oh, I’m glad! Not that he’s behind on work, but I’ll feel better knowing that I’m not the only one out of sorts,” said Pam.

“Oh, Pam! Don’t worry, you’ll be just fine, Mother says Mrs. Vance told her you were a bright girl, and if you have trouble, I’ll help you,” said Kelly, squeezing Pam’s hand.  The two girls smiled at each other, and Pam’s heart fairly swelled at the realization that she had a friend.  

Both girls turned to look as a gentleman called out through a paper cone, “Any contestants for the three legged-race should report to me now!”

Kelly jumped off the swing. “Let’s enter!” she said. Pam jumped down beside her. “I’m a fast runner,” she said, “And I’ve always wanted to enter a three-legged race!”

The two girls trotted towards the man. “That’s the schoolmaster, Mr. Scott. Father thinks he’s useless, but Mother says we should respect the school board’s decision to appoint him,” whispered Kelly as they approached the race area. “He’s nice enough, and if you mention anything about the Widow Gould, he’ll be off in dreamland for a good long while. That’s how we girls find time to write little notes to each other,” Kelly continued, “Once, Katy Pye stitched up a whole little sewing purse without Mr. Scott even noticing.”

By then, the girls had reached the area where a redheaded boy was handing out strips of cloth. He gave them three and said, “Make sure you tie them extra tightly, Kelly. Knee, ankle and calf. No cheating.”

Kelly glared at him in exasperation. “Dwighde Schrude, leave us be, we’ll tie it tight enough,” she said. “Dwighde, don’t be ridiculous, one tie is enough,” called Mr. Scott.

Kelly and Pam took their places at the starting line, and a dark-haired boy stood next to them. Kelly gripped Pam’s hand tightly and whispered, “Pam! That’s Ryan Wright! I just adore him, but Mother doesn’t approve. His mother is one of the White Sands Baileys, and his family and Mother’s have never gotten along. Isn’t that terribly romantic?”

Pam whispered back, “He is handsome, and that is terribly romantic- forbidden love! I read a novel like that once!”

She was about to elaborate on the story to Kelly, who she felt would truly appreciate it, unlike Phyllis, who said she should read only wholesome things, when a boy came to stand beside Ryan.

He was tall and lanky and had brown hair that flopped in his eyes as he bent over to tie his leg to Ryan’s. He looked up, saw Pam watching him, and winked. She blushed, and her stomach gave a funny little twinge as she looked away. “Who is that next to Ryan?” she whispered to Kelly.

"That’s Jim Blythe, and I think he’s not so handsome as Ryan,” answered Kelly. Pam felt shy, for this was the first time all afternoon that she did not agree with Kelly.

"All right, on your marks, and GO!” called Mr. Scott, and Pam and Kelly took off running. “One and two and one and two,” panted Pam, keeping time. She and Kelly found a rhythm right away and did not stumble, even as Ryan and Jim tumbled onto the grass beside them. They were in the lead, with Kevin and Toby close behind, when someone charged past them and crossed the finish line.

"I win!” called Dwighde, raising his arms in victory, “I beat all of you that have three legs on only two legs!”

Mr. Scott shook his head in exasperation. “Dwighde, you have to have three legs to enter! You are disqualified; please leave the field!”

Pam and Kelly looked at each other with joy and clapped their hands when Mr. Scott announced, “The winners are Kelly Barry and…the other girl!”

As Pam and Kelly stepped onto an apple crate to receive their blue ribbons from Mr. Scott, Pam saw that Jim had untied his leg from Ryan’s and was standing up. He winked at her again, and she whipped her head to the front, cheeks tinged with pink.

*

Later, as Phyllis came to bid her goodnight, she asked Pam, “Well, did you have a nice day?” and Pam laughed as she answered, “Oh, it was the best day I’ve ever had!”

When Phyllis left the little gabled room with the candle, Pam turned over and closed her eyes, remembering the golden moments, some particular ones more than others as she drifted to sleep.  

Pam awoke early on her first day of school, and spent a luxurious few moments in bed with the delights of anticipation running through her mind. She had promised Kelly that she would be her deskmate, Kelly had made her a bookmark for her schoolbooks, and Phyllis had made raspberry tarts as a treat for her lunch. Kelly had told her that the girls always pooled their lunches, and so Phyllis was sending her to school with extra tarts.

Daydreaming was lovely, but soon the reality of school permeated her mind, she decided she'd better dress and go down to the kitchen. She buttoned herself into her freshly starched and ironed school dress that Phyllis had made. It was striped pale pink, white and light brown, which made her look even paler, though on this exciting morning, her cheeks flushed pink obligingly.  As she fairly hopped down the stairs, she buttoned her new crisp white apron over her dress.  

Both Bob and Phyllis were seated at the kitchen table, and they bade Pam good morning. 'It is a good morning, isn't it?" she said as she slid into her seat, "Most people have their first day of real school when they're quite small, but I get to have mine when I can actually remember it. I had to watch the younger children when I lived with the Thomases and the Hammonds, and then at the orphanage, one of the matrons taught us."

Bob stood up from the table. "I need to be getting back out to the barn, but here's a little something for your first day of school," he said to Pam, handing her a small package wrapped in brown paper. She opened it and found a brown hair ribbon.

"Oh, thank you!" she exclaimed, and Bob blushed and waved her off. "It's nothing big, I just thought you'd like it," he said.

After breakfast, Phyllis helped her tie it in her hair and handed her the lunch basket with its calico napkin. Kelly waved from the gate, and Pam ran out to join her. Holding hands, the two girls skipped merrily off towards the Avonlea school house. Kelly led Pam down the road, past the glade of small purple flowers that Pam had named Violet Vale, and through the path of birch trees that Kelly had rather prosaically named Birch Path.

At the edge of Birch Path, Kelly put out her hand to stop Pam. "All right, when we get to here, we've got to run as fast as we can," she said solemnly.

"Why? Is it haunted?" asked Pam, half hoping it to be true.

"No, this is the Schrude farm, and if we're not careful, we'll have to walk the rest of the way to school with Dwighde, and he always smells of beets," explained Kelly, and the two girls ran, giggling, the rest of the way to school, stopping before they reached the yard to straighten their skirts and smooth their hair. The wind had made Pam's hair even bushier, and she tried her best to tame it, to no avail.

Two girls stood at the school gate and hailed them joyfully as they approached. "Who are those girls?" asked Pam, already smiling in anticipation, for it was lovely to feel welcomed.

"The smaller, blonde one is Angela Andrews. She likes rules, but she's a nice girl. The other one is Meredith Gillis, and she likes boys as much as I do!" answered Kelly, swinging her lunch basket.

"Girls, this is Pam Shirley," said Kelly as they approached Angela and Meredith, who beamed at her. Pam smiled back. The girls ushered her into the schoolhouse as Mr. Scott stood in the doorway and rang a bell.

Kelly left her standing next to Mr. Scott's desk as the students took their seats in the rows of neat wooden desks, inscribed with the mementos of several Avonlea generations.

"Ah, our new student, half of the winning three-legged race team," said Mr. Scott, as Pam watched Dwighde make an ashamed grimace. "Name, please?"

"Pam Shirley," answered Pam. She could feel the eyes of all the children on her.

"Pam. Pamela. Pam-el-a Shirley. Surely your name is Pamela?" said Mr. Scott, smiling widely as though having made a humorous joke. Pam felt she should probably laugh, so she managed a giggle and answered, "Just Pam is fine."

Mr. Scott smiled even more widely. "Madamooselle, you may take a seat with Kelly Barry," he said grandly, and Pam turned to smile at Kelly, who gave a silent squeal and clapped her hands.

Pam moved down the aisle to sit with Kelly, directly behind Angela and Meredith, and in front of a girl with long, smooth red curls. Pam set her slate and books on the desk and smoothed her apron, trying very hard not to notice the hazel eyes watching her from across the aisle.

Mr. Scott set their lessons, and Pam was gratified to learn that she wasn't extremely behind in her schooling. She had had visions of having to sit with the primer class, towering over six and seven year olds. She knew she'd have to work hard to catch up, but the thought of a challenge rather excited her, and she made up her mind that she'd move to the head of the class. Her day was made even better at lunch time by a lovely picnic with her new friends, down by the brook, where Phyllis's raspberry tarts were devoured and enjoyed.  

Her elation was rather short lived, though, when the girl with smooth curls said, "You're the orphan that the Vances adopted, aren't you? It's a pity you couldn't have a new dress for school."

Anger shot through Pam, for not only was that a sly dig at her, but also at Phyllis, who had worked so hard to make her this dress, plain or not. She opened her mouth to say something, but Angela spoke first. "I do like your new dress, Pam," she said, turning to face Pam primly, "and I think that pale pink is so becoming. I'm so glad it's not green, because Mother says that green is for rather immoral women. Isn't that right, Katy?"

Katy, whose dress and hair ribbon were unfortunately a very becoming green, flushed and looked down at her schoolbooks. "That ought to shut her up for awhile," whispered Kelly.

Pam bent over her own books, cheeks still burning, determined not to let Katy's remarks sour her perfect first day of school.  

It was unfortunate that Pam was still in the heat of anger, because what happened next would irrevocably stain the first day memories. Jim Blythe leaned across the aisle and whispered, 'Hey!" Pam ignored him, not trusting herself to speak, and not wanting this boy to see her ready to cry. Jim tried again, "Hey, mop top!"

Something welled up in Pam and she stood up angrily. "How dare you?!" she cried, and without thinking, grabbed her slate and smashed it clean across Jim's disheveled hair.

Everyone gasped, and Pam dropped the broken wooden frame, horrified at what she had done. "What is going on?" asked Mr. Scott, moving across the room toward Jim and Pam. Pam could not speak, and Jim answered, "It was my fault, sir, I teased her."

Mr. Scott pointed toward the front of the room. "Miss Shirley, I don't think I need to tell you that that behavior will not be tolerated. I'm going to have to punish you severely," he said sternly, and Pam winced at the thought of being whipped.

Mr. Scott moved to the blackboard and wrote 'Pamela Shirley has a very bad temper.' He turned to face the class. "You will write this one hundred times," he said, as though handing out a death sentence.

Pam felt relieved, though still horribly embarrassed. She strode to the blackboard, picked up the chalk and a rag, and carefully wiped out the 'ela' from 'Pamela'. She wouldn't let Jim see how much his words had affected her.

She spoke not a word the rest of the school day, and when school was let out, she linked arms with Kelly and marched out of the school house. She waved goodbye to Angela and Meredith and led Kelly toward the road.
"Pam, wait up!" called Jim, running to catch up, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, please don't be mad for keeps."

Pam couldn't speak for embarrassment, so she continued walking. To Kelly's consternation, Dwighde Schrude caught up to them and walked beside them. "Pam, a distant relative of mine used to iron her hair flat," he said, "You might try that, and then maybe your hair won't be so bushy. It might be good to keep it the way it is, though, because in the animal world, a bushy tail is a sign of readiness to mate. That might be good if you're looking for a beau."

"Thanks, Dwighde," she said as they approached the beet farm gate.

Kelly left her at the Green Gables gate with a sympathetic hug, and Pam was left alone with the feelings inside her. She couldn't quite put into words how it had felt to have a handsome boy like Jim tease her about her looks. She decided to do something about it.

*

When Phyllis came home from Lawson's, she immediately noticed the acrid smell that hung in the air inside the house. "Pam?" she called, moving quickly up the stairs. She found a sobbing Pam under the covers in her bedroom.

"What on earth happened?" she asked. Pam sat up, and Phyllis was horrified to see a large chunk of her hair was missing. Pam pointed to a bundle of singed hair on the desk.

"Dwighde Shrude told me his relative ironed her hair flat, and I tried it and it burnt right off," sobbed Pam, by way of explanation.

"Oh dear," said Phyllis, "I heard what happened at school."

With this, Pam's tears erupted anew. "I know it was wicked of me to lose my temper, but I couldn't help it," she cried.

Phyllis nearly smiled. "I'll get the scissors, and we can fix it. I do think that you'd better not have that picnic with Kelly this Saturday. I think it would be best spent inside, thinking about how you mustn't act in haste," she said.

Pam nodded. "And I'll force myself to admire Katy Pye's curls from afar every day, as penance for wishing mine were like that," she said.

Phyllis located the aforementioned scissors and cut Pam's hair below her ears. The pile of hair grew larger, and Pam said mournfully, "I look like a sheared sheep again, I expect." 

As she went to bed, Pam reflected that this day had not been one speck of what she had envisioned, for who could have envisioned breaking a slate over the head of a most interesting, infuriating boy, and taking the advice of a beet farmer?

In the weeks after her unfortunate first day of school, Pam poured herself fully into her schoolwork, determined to catch up and possibly even surpass her classmates. Her hair, short curls held in place by a becoming blue ribbon bestowed upon her by a sympathetic Kelly, was constantly tucked behind her ears as she bent over her books.

Phyllis, surprised by the grim determination of the sunny girl told Marjorie, "I had thought she'd be chattering all the time with Kelly and the other girls, but Mr. Scott tells me she's very quiet and studious."

Marjorie nodded in approval. "That Mr. Scott told me Pam was moving steadily up in the ranks, and that she's in line to have the best marks in the class, although Jim Blythe is catching up, too," she said, "I'm proud of your Pam. A girl's mind is much better suited to books than boys at her age, though I did have two beaus at twelve."

Pam's tenure as Jim's seat partner was short lived. The following day, she resumed her old seat next to a delighted Kelly, and Mr. Scott took no notice. Perhaps he thought she had been sufficiently punished, Pam didn't know.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're sitting with me again!" squealed Kelly. Pam smiled. "I'm glad to be back, it was wretched having to sit with a boy," she said, trying to convince herself of this. Truthfully, it hadn't been so bad, but she'd never dream of admitting it while she was still angry with him for teasing her.

She watched Jim enter the schoolroom and his eyes flickered from his empty desk to where she sat beside Kelly. He gave her a tight lipped smile and sat down. Pam ignored him. Who was he to think that just because he had made her laugh, she would forgive him for humiliating her?

She pulled out a book and began to study. End of the year exams loomed in less than a week, and she was nervous that she hadn't caught up properly. She was also aware of the fact that a certain young gentleman was doing very well, and this was good motivation to study even more.

As the rest of the pupils filed in, Mr. Scott bounded to the front of the room. He seemed very excited, and clapped his hands for attention. The older students quieted down, the primer class stopped fidgeting, and Mr. Scott smiled gleefully. "Ladies and gentlemen, today is a very special occasion,” he said happily, and Pam and Kelly exchanged glances, not understanding what was so special.

Mr. Scott continued, "Today is the seventh day of the seventh month of the seventy-seventh year, 7-7-77! It only happens once every hundred years, so the next time it happens in 1977, you'll all be dead! Deader than the Widow Gould's husband, rest his soul."

Pam glanced sideways at Kelly during this extraordinary pronouncement, but Kelly didn't seem to find anything strange about it. Beyond Kelly, Jim glanced over and caught Pam's eye, raising an eyebrow.

"I have spoken to Kevin Spurgeon MacPherson's parents, and they have graciously consented to host an all-school picnic there this afternoon! We will depart shortly after eleven and have our lunches there, to celebrate this wondrous occasion."

At this, Kevin held up both hands and whispered loudly, "I had nothing to do with this, and nobody told me anything!"

A frisson of excitement moved through the room at the prospect of having a free afternoon, and no one's minds were fully on lessons. Though Pam was keen on studying hard, she was delighted at the idea of having a picnic.

When the time came to leave, everyone poured out of the schoolhouse excitedly, lunch pails in hand. Just ahead of them, Katy Pye slipped her arm possessively through Jim's, and so Pam linked arms with Kelly and Meredith, with Angela on Meredith's other side, and the four of them began to sing "Nelly in the Hazel Dell," changing the words to "Kelly in the Hazel Dell" for fun.

The day was bright and beautiful and the MacPherson farm turned out to be a lovely place for a picnic. Some of the boys had brought a ball and were tossing it around. Pam and her friends found a lovely weeping willow tree to picnic under, and several of the smaller girls joined them.

Pam had slipped her sketch book into her apron pocket and began to draw little pictures for them. She drew little Sasha Sloane, the smallest child at school, as a little fairy perched on a flower. Sasha was so delighted that she ran to show her big brother Toby, interrupting the ball game. Some of the big boys looked at it as well, and both Toby and Jim smiled when they saw it.

Evidently Katy Pye had seen Jim smile, because she walked by and said, "That was sweet of you, Pam, but don't you think fairies are rather childish to be drawing?"

Pam gazed at her coolly. "Luckily, Sasha is a child," she said, and Katy flounced away.

"Those Pyes always think they're better than everyone,” said Meredith. Sasha waved to the girls, and Kelly squealed, "She is so darling! Don't you just love little children, Angela?"

Angela looked thoughtful. "I suppose I wouldn't mind a pair of small, well behaved boys of my own someday,” she said.

"Well, I am going to have dozens and dozens of babies, " said Kelly happily, standing up.”Hello, Ryan!" she called, waving to the figure about to catch the ball.

A few more hours passed in the lazy summer sunshine. Several of the smallest children fell asleep under the shade of the willow tree, and the ball game dissolved.

Apparently Katy Pye felt it was time to show off a bit, because she climbed up on the picket garden fence and walked around the perimeter as though on a tightrope. At the end, she called out, "Jimmy!" and Jim turned just in time for her to jump in his arms to help her down. "Thanks for helping me down, Jimmy,” she said, smoothing her hair, "I do hope I haven't mussed my hair. I do hate messy hair."

She smiled triumphantly at Pam, who rolled her eyes and turned to Kelly. "I guess some people think it a great accomplishment to walk a little garden fence, " she said loudly, and Katy scoffed, "I'd like to see you try."

"I could do it, " said Pam, a recklessness seizing over her as Katy slipped her arm into Jim's. "I knew a girl who could walk the ridgepole of a house," she continued. "I don't believe you could do it. Although, we don't know anything about you, your parents could have been circus folk," retorted Katy smugly.

That remark stung, and everyone looked at Katy, including Jim. Without a word, Pam pulled over the garden ladder to Kevin's kitchen roof. She climbed it carefully. "Pam, don't! You'll break your neck!" called Kelly. Pam paid no attention to her. She made her way to the ridgepole of the kitchen roof.

It wasn't so bad, she thought, surveying it. She wasn't afraid of heights, and she had mastered walking on a fence at the second orphanage she had lived at.

She could feel many pairs of eyes on her as she stepped from the ladder onto the ridgepole. She found her balance and moved forward, putting one foot carefully in front of the other, gripping slightly through the thin soles of her boots. She held her arms out for balance and felt the wind flutter her apron.

She was doing quite well until she heard Katy say, "She's going to fall, I just know it!" As luck would have it, on the next step forward, a piece of the ridgepole crumbled under her boot and Pam felt herself lose balance.

She heard a gasp and gasped herself as she fell onto the roof, rolling down the shingles. She bumped her head and elbows and slammed onto a bush, knocking the wind out of herself. Her boot got caught in the gutter and twisted when she hit the bush and she lay there, dazed and gasping for breath, her apron and dress covering her face. She heard people come running but could not move for choking.

Kelly was first by her side. "Pam! Are you killed? Please tell me if you're killed!" she cried, moving Pam’s apron and skirts off of her face. Jim was there, too, his face ashen. Pam caught her breath and said, “I’m alive, but I fear I may have been rendered unconscious.”

She tried to move her arms and legs, and everything seemed to be all right except for the dull ache in her ankle. Jim reached down and grabbed her arms to help her up. It was tricky work, but he was very gentle and his face so full of concern that it made Pam’s stomach twinge.

It was only when she was standing gingerly on one foot that she felt her skirts and apron fall into place and realized her bloomers had shown the entire time. Heat bloomed across her face and all she could say was, “Kelly!”

She flung an arm around Kelly’s shoulder and Kelly helped her hobble away from the house. “Please, let’s just go,” she whispered, and Kelly nodded.

“Pam, let me borrow the MacPhersons’ carriage and I’ll drive you home,” called Jim. “No!” Pam shouted, sounding a little more unkind than she meant to, and she watched Jim’s face fall slightly.

Katy came over to him, crying, and asking for his hanky. Pam glanced back and saw him hand it to her with a look of concern. This was the last straw for Pam, who faced forward again and didn’t look back.

Unfortunately for her, she never saw Jim walk away from Katy with a look of disappointment and disgust, his eyes never leaving Pam.

Instead, Pam and Kelly made their way awkwardly down the road. Pam’s mind was racing. She had to have imagined Jim’s concern, for he still was being nice to Katy who had goaded her in the first place. She knew it wasn’t correct to blame Katy for the whole thing, but her ankle ached very much. She repeated to herself that Jim’s concern was all in her imagination.

One arm clamped around Pam’s waist, Kelly worried, “The easiest way to get to Green Gables from here is if we take the shortcut through the Haunted Wood.”

Pam was glad to have something else to occupy her thoughts. “Oh, dear,” she said, “You don’t think it’s haunted during the day, do you?”

Kelly looked frightened. “Well, ever since you told me that story about the white lady ghost wailing for her long lost husband among the pines, I can’t step near it. I always hear her!” she cried.

Pam took a deep breath. “Well, I don’t think it is this particular wood that the lady haunts, and it’ll take ages to go by the roads.”

The girls put on brave faces and entered the woods. The path was winding and not much daylight escaped through the branches so that it felt like twilight.

A little ways in, Pam felt Kelly stiffen next to her. “What is it?” she whispered, half expecting to see a ghost flit by. “We’ve got to hurry, that’s Old Man Bratton’s house back there, and he’s scary! He grows all sort of strange herbs and I have a good mind that he pilfers things, too. Mrs. Lynde says he took three peach pies that she was cooling on her windowsill,” Kelly whispered back.

The girls made their way as quickly and quietly as Pam’s ankle would allow, and both breathed a sigh of relief once they were well past the tumbledown shack.

The tension had almost lifted fully after they had gone another decent distance without spying any loose specters when Pam stepped onto a bare patch of path and heard a crack. She found herself falling for the second time that day, and as she hit bottom, she realized it must be an old trap or cellar of some sort.

Kelly’s face appeared a few feet above her head, and she was nearly crying. “Kelly, run and get Bob Vance and tell him to bring some rope,” Pam called up, trying to keep calm.

“I won’t let the ghosts get you,” sobbed Kelly, blowing a kiss as she turned to leave.

As she disappeared, Pam was left alone with the dark walls of the hole and the canopy of dark trees. Green Gables was less than a quarter mile away, she told herself, and Kelly would soon return. A quarter mile was still a quarter mile, though, and so Pam waited quietly, scolding herself for telling Kelly the ghost story and for half-believing it herself.

After what felt like ages but was really only fifteen minutes, Kelly and Bob came running. As she was hoisted out of the hole, Pam found voice for the thought that had been running through her mind as she had sat in peril; telling Kelly, “I refuse to let my imagination run away with me any longer!”

Pam spent the rest of the week in bed and on the sofa in the parlor, resting her ankle per the doctor's orders. She was vexed at having to miss school but a part of her was relieved that she didn't have to see Jim or Katy. Kelly visited her every day after school and brought little notes and bouquets from the other girls. Little Sasha Sloane had made her a card that said "Get Wel Pan' in big, shaky letters. Phyllis and Bob had a good laugh from that one.

That Friday afternoon, Pam had set aside her schoolbooks in favor of her sketch book and was drawing the birds nesting in the cherry tree just outside the parlor window. Bob had brought her a box of beautiful colored pencils, and she was trying to find the right tone of shading for the leaves.

She heard a commotion in the kitchen and Kelly came bursting into the parlor, followed by Phyllis. "Pam!" cried Kelly, handing her an folded piece of paper, "It's such good news!"

Mystified, Pam opened the paper to see Mr. Scott's scrawling handwriting. She began to read aloud, for Phyllis was looking on in anticipation and Kelly was bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"Dear Pamela," she read, making a face, "You are cordially invited to attend an afternoon tea and also an awards ceremony at the same time on the last day of school. Students are invited to bring their teas and sweets to school, and ice cream will be provided by yours truly. Can you inform Mr. Vance that I'll be along to order some ice cream? Sincerely, Mr. M.G. Scott, Schoolmaster."

Kelly clapped her hands. "Mr. Scott said he's calling it a tea because he's not allowed to have any more parties this year, but it means we get to end lessons early!" she crowed. 

Pam smiled delightedly. "I've never been to a real tea party,” she said happily, and Phyllis matched her smile. "We'll have to make you a real nice basket to bring," she said, and Pam's head was filled with the delights of anticipation once more.

Part of her was glad that she was laid up with her ankle all weekend because it provided her with additional studying time. She would much rather have been climbing the cherry tree to get a better look at the birds in their nest, but she was fueled by the desire to do well on her exams. She didn't know what kind of awards Mr. Scott was planning on distributing, but the thought it would be awfully embarrassing not to win one.

On Monday, Bob Vance drove Pam and Kelly to school in his buggy; Pam's ankle was much better, but the long walk to school would be too much for it.  He helped her down and as he drove off, Pam was hailed as though she had been gone for a year, rather than merely a week.  The girls all hugged her and Toby Sloane came over to her and said, "I'm real glad you're feeling better, Pam."

"Thanks, Toby," she said, smiling politely at the gangly boy. Behind him, she saw Jim watching, and when he caught her eye, he gave her the half- smile and turned away.

The high point of the day was when an abashed Katy Pye walked over to her and said, "Pam, I'm sorry that I dared you and that you got hurt."

Pam smiled sugary-sweetly at her and said thanks, and they walked into school.

The school day had a different feel to it. For once, Mr. Scott wasted no time in getting them situated with their examinations. Hot sunshine poured through the windows and Pam concentrated as hard as she could as sweat dampened her dress and hair.

It was nicer than usual to go back to Green Gables and have a lovely supper, and the next day continued in the same vein. The dinner hour was rather lively, and it was such a relief when their final examination was finished that Kelly and Pam sang the whole way home.

That night, Phyllis helped Pam pack a nice basket for the tea party the next day. Phyllis had made berry tarts and some small cakes and Pam tucked them carefully in the basket. "Phyllis, what shall I take to drink?" asked Pam. 

Phyllis smiled. "For a treat, you may take some of my raspberry cordial. It's in the cupboard with all the preserves on the top shelf. Pour a good amount into an empty milk bottle, and be sure to take a tumbler with you. It’s not ladylike to drink from a bottle," she said as she turned to exit the kitchen toward the barn. 

Pam grinned delightedly. "I've never had raspberry cordial, it sounds just divine!" she said to Phyllis, who headed toward the barn.

Alone in the kitchen, Pam looked for the cordial. She moved all the jars of preserved on the top shelf, but found no cordial. She searched every nook of the cupboard and emerged triumphantly with a dusty bottle of deep burgundy liquid. Phyllis had been mistaken; it had been way in the back of the bottom shelf. She opened the top and filled a clean milk bottle. She was sorely tempted to taste it; it smelled so interesting, but she knew it would taste even more special if she waited just one more day.

*

A buzz hung around the schoolhouse next day as everyone helped clean the schoolroom and tidy things for the summer. Mr. Scott let some of the smaller girls go out and pick flowers to decorate for the awards ceremony while the other students cleaned inside. Pam and her friends swept and dusted the cloakroom.  

Pam glanced out at one point to see Mr. Scott and Jim with an array of ribbons spread on the teacher's desk, along with a jar of paint. They were discussing something, and Mr. Scott sighed loudly and crossed something out on one of the ribbons.

Soon, the afternoon sun was making patterns on the floor, and Mr. Scott clapped his hands together. "All right, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, it's teeea time!" he called, as Dwighde exited the cloakroom and moved up to the front of the room with a large brass instrument.

"Dwighde, what is that?" called Kevin Spurgeon MacPherson.

"This is my Almenraeder bassoon, and I shall be accompanying Mr. Scott in a musical selection," replied Dwighde, removing a small piece of something from his mouth and inserting it into the mouthpiece. He blew a few notes and then he and Mr. Scott launched into a rendition of '"Bringing in the Sheaves", the likes of which Pam had never heard before.

"Bringing in the teas, bringing in the teas, you may go-oo to the cloakroooom and start bringing in your teas!" sang Mr. Scott loudly, with an operatic air that just made things worse.

The students followed his directions, given via song and frantic gesturing toward the cloakroom, moving in a group. As they waited their turns, Pam heard Jim say quietly behind her, "It's a pity. I used to really like that hymn." She laughed before she realized what she was doing, and hurried quickly into the cloakroom.

She and the other girls unpacked their treats as Mr. Scott put a couple of kettles on to boil, he and Dwighde harmonizing on a German song, "O Were My Love a Sugar-Bowl", complete with Dwighde tapping on the sugar bowl for a drum.

Pam spread her napkin on her lap and emptied her little wicker basket of its contents, setting the bottle of cordial and the tumbler carefully on the desk. She looked at the other girls' teas; Kelly and Meredith both had lemonade and Angela looked mournfully at her bottle of milk.  "Angela, would you like some of my raspberry cordial?" asked Pam. 

"No thanks, Mother says it's sinful to drink something the color of blood,” said Angela, shrugging. 

"All right," said Pam, pouring herself a glass as Mr. Scott clapped his hands again.

"Let the awards ceremony begin!" he called grandly, "Our first award is the Youngest Student award, and that goes to...Sasha Sloane!"   

As Sasha moved happily to collect her ribbon, Pam had her first sip of raspberry cordial. It was very good; she had never tasted anything like it. She continued to sip and sip as more awards were handed out. It transpired that Mr. Scott had one for every student, a nice idea, Pam thought.

As Mr. Scott passed out such awards as "Best Recitation" and "Nicest Penmanship of the Younger Students" Pam finished her first glass of cordial and poured herself a second.

She was so happy to be at school, sitting with her friends; she felt really lovely, almost as though she were floating a few inches above the bench. Mr. Scott awarded the "Fine Work" award to a boy named Stanley, and Pam laughed out loud. She didn't know why it was so funny, it just was. Could Mr. Scott have given a broader award?

As Angela won the "Most Rule Abiding" award, Pam nibbled on her berry tart. It didn't taste as good as the cordial, so she abandoned it in the basket. Her glass was heavier somehow, and it kept moving as she tried to pour more cordial- or maybe it was her hand that moved, she couldn't tell.

She dribbled a little on her apron as Mr. Scott presented the "Handsomest Boy" award to a bewildered Ryan Wright and Kelly nearly fell off the bench clapping for him. Pam hadn't yet received an award, and wondered if she would.

When Mr. Scott announced the next award as "Prettiest Girl," Pam looked down at her glass, knowing it wouldn't be her. Of course it was Katy Pye who smugly walked up the aisle to collect her ribbon. Pam gave a few perfunctory claps and her face felt heavy, so she rested it on her hand. 

She noticed Jim clapping for Katy and glared, though he didn't see her. She watched his claps and decided they were the right amount for someone who was being polite to someone else whose 'Take Notice' he had been seen scratching off the porch wall earlier in the day.

She took another sip and was contemplating taking off her apron because it was just so hot in the room when Mr. Scott presented the "Stay Away From The Outhouse" award to Kevin Spurgeon MacPherson who blushed rosy red and looked embarrassed. A few of the boys laughed nastily, and Pam felt so sorry for poor Kevin.

"Hooray for Kevin!" she called loudly, startling everyone around her. More and more students took up the cheer, and a slow smile spread over Kevin's face and he raised his arms in victory. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jim grin at her, and she felt her cheeks get warmer than they already were.

It was very difficult to sit still and not giggle when all she wanted to do was lie on the cool floor and let the world spin around her, but she managed to pay attention when Mr. Scott held up the next ribbon.

"The award for Highest Achievement in the Shortest Amount of Time goes to our most successful student, Miss Pam Shirley!"

Pam gasped and jumped out of her seat. She made her way up the aisle and accepted the ribbon from Mr. Scott. She turned to face her classmates.

"I have so many people to thank for this! Thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Vance for adopting me, and to Mr. Scott for giving me this piece of ribbon, and especially to Katy Pye for daring me to walk on the roof, because it gave me lots of time to study!" she cried happily, and grinning.

Her enthusiasm was catching, for everyone cheered for her as she trotted back up the aisle. She was seized with such warmth and love for everyone there, feeling that they truly did care about her that when she flopped back into her seat, she reached across the aisle and grabbed Jim's hand, squeezing it tightly and smiling at him. No one noticed, and she let go, turning back to Kelly and draining her glass.  

Jim stood up, quite red in the face to accept "Tallest Student," which made Pam snicker quietly. She looked at the ribbon, and saw that something had been blacked out with paint above the 'H.A.I.T.S.A.O.T. Award'. A survey of the room (as best she could do with a head that strangely weighed a ton) showed that hers was the only one like that.

The ribbon slipped off the desk and fluttered to the floor, and she reached down for it. Something threw her off balance, and suddenly she was on the floor, looking up and laughing because really, who would lie on the floor of a classroom? 

There was a commotion, and Dwighde appeared next to her, the leather of his lederhosen creaking as he bent down. "Careful, Pam, I'm here to help you; as Assistant Schoolmaster, it is my responsibility to ensure the safety of other pupils!" he cried, and Pam protested and tried to roll away before Dwighde touched her.

Then Jim was there, moving Dwighde aside. "You're assistant to the schoolmaster, and I'll take care of it, I don’t think she’s feeling well," he said, and Dwighde retreated.

"Dwighde, I need you up here, there are still six ribbons to give out and then the closing ceremony," called Mr. Scott, "Jim, you won an award already, you may help Pam home if she's ill. I don't want vomit all over the classroom."

Jim reached down and heaved her up by the arms. Pam was still laughing, and she reached for the bottle, not even caring if the lovely cordial was in a glass, for being ladylike was not always fun.

"Not a good idea," said Jim quietly, sniffing the bottle as he took it away from her. Kelly looked concerned and began to help pack up Pam's basket.

“Kelly, you stay, you haven’t gotten your award yet. Angela, you can help Jim get Pam home,” said Mr. Scott. Angela nodded and helped gather Pam’s belongings and took her other arm.

"Goodbye, everyone!” called Pam as Jim and Angela helped her down the aisle and out of school. “I’m fine, I don’t need to go home,” she said, her jaw feeling droopy.

“I think you do, you’re acting like you don’t feel well,” said Jim, as though he knew something she didn’t, and Angela just looked concerned. “Shall I run ahead and get Mr. and Mrs. Vance?” she asked anxiously.

”Good idea. Thank you, Angela,” Jim called after her hastily retreating form, headed full tilt for Green Gables.

Angela disappeared from view, and suddenly it was just Jim and Pam, and through the haze in her mind, Pam was very aware of his arm under hers. She stumbled and he held her up. “Why are you doing this?” she asked quietly.

He looked down at the ground. “I’m not quite sure that was raspberry cordial you were drinking, and I didn’t want you to get embarrassed in front of everyone again.”

Pam felt very odd. “Oh,” she said, trying to think of something else to say, and feeling betrayed by her tongue when nothing came out.

They moved along in silence for a few more moments and then before she could stop herself, she found herself asking, “Can I ask you something?”

Jim stopped and looked at her. “Of course,” he said, and she broke contact with his eyes. They were just too…Jim to look at right now.

"Did you ask Mr. Scott to change my award?” she asked quietly, looking back up at him.

Jim flushed. “I didn’t know you saw that,” he said.

"I did, from the cloakroom,” she replied, “What did it say before?”

Jim took a deep breath. “It said ‘Frizziest Hair’ and I didn’t think that was right. You’re so much more than just your hair, and besides, it’s very pretty,” he said, going so red he looked sunburned.

For the second time that day, all Pam could say was “Oh.”

She felt very strange indeed as she took a few steps forward. Jim’s arm was under hers again, and it felt different. How on earth was she supposed to say something? Her enemy had just paid her a very dear compliment, and she was all jumbled inside.

Mercifully, the sounds of a buggy made them both look up and watch as Phyllis and Bob, Angela between them, came riding up behind the sorrel mare. Bob clucked to her and she stopped. All three came down quickly and ran over to Pam and Jim.

“Oh, Pam dear, if you’re all right, do you mind if I get back to school? I don’t want to ruin my perfect attendance record on the last day of school,” said Angela breathlessly, and Pam shook her head.

“Of course,” she said, smiling at Angela, who smiled back and took off for school again.

Phyllis put her arm around Pam as Jim stepped back. “Pam, what is the matter?” she asked gently.

Bob took a sniff of the bottle Jim had wordlessly handed him and laughed a great guffaw. “She’s set herself drunk!” he chortled, and Phyllis looked horrified.

"Drunk? But she’s only had raspberry cordial,” she replied, looking confused.  Bob handed over the bottle, and Phyllis sniffed it as well. “Oh my goodness, Pam! This is my currant wine! I must have told you the wrong spot in the cupboard!” she cried, looking scandalized.

"Phyllis, don’t worry, the worst that will happen is she’ll have a humdinger of a headache tomorrow,” said Bob, still chuckling.

Phyllis shook her head. “When Marjorie Lynde finds out, we’ll never hear the end of it. She’s always been against my currant wine, her people are Temperance folk,” she worried aloud.

“If it makes you feel any better, I think I’m the only one who knows what happened,” said Jim, speaking for the first time, “and I can promise you that I would never spread rumors about your family, Mrs. Vance. Your secret is safe as far as I’m concerned.”

Phyllis looked relieved as Bob lifted Pam into the buggy, settling her into a seat. Her head was beginning to hurt.

“Thank you, Jim,” Phyllis said as Bob helped her into the buggy next to Pam.

“I appreciate it, Master Blythe,” said Bob, winking at Jim as he clucked to the mare.

The buggy moved, and Jim stepped aside. He raised his hand in a wave to Pam, and as she called “Thank you!” the look on his face told her that he knew it was for much more than just helping her home.

Pam spent the day in bed following her unfortunate experience at the hand of wine masquerading as cordial; recovering fully, with only shame and a headache to remind her of the debacle.

Fortunately, Jim seemed to have kept to his word, as no one made any mention of it. Knowing Mrs. Lynde’s propensity for discussion of scandal, Pam and the Vances concluded that no one besides themselves and Jim knew the true story of what had happened, Angela being unaware and Kelly and the rest thinking Pam had just eaten a bad tart.

Pam’s summer days stretched along as beads on a string, each lovelier than the last. She was officially in her teens now, and Pam wanted one summer of fun. Phyllis was in agreement there, to the chagrin of Marjorie Lynde.

“That girl ought not to be gadding her days away, she should be improving her brain and helping you!” sniffed Marjorie one afternoon.

Phyllis just smiled and continued knitting. . “The way I see it, she’s never had a carefree time before this, what with living with those families and watching children all the time, and then living in overcrowded orphanages. And I can manage on my own. I think her brain is just fine, and Doctor Blair thinks she needs some meat on her bones, too.”

Marjorie pursed her lips and nodded. She always agreed with doctors, even if they couldn’t always properly diagnose all of her various aches and pains when they occurred. 

*

One hot day in late August found Pam and her friends enjoying a picnic lunch down by the Lake of Shining Waters. Having comfortably eaten all of their sandwiches and cake, they were taking turns reading aloud from a book of poetry and occasionally acting out the more fun ones.

Earlier in the summer, Pam had fallen in love with “The Lady of Shalott” and the other girls found the poem marvelous as well. What the girls didn’t know was that Pam had a sketch book filled with illustrations of the poem. She loved how the pictures flowed from her pencil as ‘the river eddy whirls’ and loved finding the nuances of character in the words.

She felt that she should at least tell Kelly, her bosom friend, but Pam was afraid Kelly would poke fun, or at least swoon over Lancelot, who, for some reason, always seemed too tall in Pam’s drawings. She could never get the scale right when it came to him.

Pam was used to people ridiculing her propensity for drawing. Mrs. Hammond used to get terribly angry when she would catch Pam sketching one of her babies, rather than feeding it, and more than one scrap of paper had ended its short life at the hand of the coal stove. Pam knew in her heart that none of her Avonlea compatriots would do such a thing, but old wounds run deep, and Pam hadn’t mustered the courage to show anyone these particular sketches that were so close to her heart.

Today, though, it was not even in the forefront of her mind. She lay sprawled in a most unladylike way on the picnic blanket and drew a little caricature of Kelly and Ryan Wright, which sent Kelly into delighted giggles, and to which Meredith grinned and Angela raised an eyebrow. “I think it’s silly to moon over boys,” she said almost severely, and Pam privately agreed.

Meredith tossed her apple core away and picked up the poetry book. “We should play Lady of Shalott, we haven’t done that one yet,” she said, opening it to the lily maid’s pages. Kelly sat up, tucking the precious Ryan Wright drawing into her dress pocket, and cried, "Yes, we should!"

Angela looked torn. "Mrs. Lynde says acting is a sin," she said slowly. Kelly shook her head. "It's not acting, it's dramatic interpretation, like Mr. Scott says,” she said.

Angela looked slightly mollified, and Pam jumped up off the blanket. 'We can use this and put it in the dory," she suggested, picking up the blanket and tucking her sketch book into her apron pocket.

The girls enthusiastically agreed, and they all ran over to the water's edge where the dory sat comfortably in the pond. Pam carefully spread the colorful quilt in the bottom of the small rowboat, and they stood back to admire the effect.

"You be the Lady Elaine first, Pam," said Kelly, "We can take turns."

Pam looked at the other girls, and they nodded. Smiling, she climbed into the dory and rested on her back. Angela appeared above her with a handful of wildflowers, which she tucked under Pam's hands, which were crossed on her chest in a most appropriately deathly pose.

Pam squinted up at Kelly as she rearranged the flowers. "Pam, lie still, you're supposed to be dead!" admonished Kelly as she stepped back. Pam obliged, closing her eyes and trying to look serene. She must have succeeded, because just as the girls were about to push the boat from the shore, she heard Meredith say, "Gosh, she really looks like a corpse!"

Pam heard Kelly's voice call out, "Farewell, dear Elaine! May the next world bring you more joy!" followed by Angela's more practical, "We'll meet you down at the dock!"

Pam drifted along, enjoying the sensation of the sun on her face and being gently rocked by the lapping water. She imagined this was what the poor Elaine had felt, although she had been dead at the time, so perhaps it wasn't the same at all. Still, the breeze was nice, and Pam sighed happily.

She felt the firm wood of the dory under her back, but suddenly it didn't feel the same any more. The back of her head felt almost wet, but it couldn't be, and then water soaked her bloomers and the back of her dress. She sat up suddenly, and was appalled at the water that was invading her boat. It must have sprung a leak, and it was sinking fast.

She began bailing water out with her hands, but it wasn't working very well, and she remembered her sketch book in her apron pocket. Not wanting it to get wet, she rolled up her apron around the book and tucked it up at her chest as best as she could.

She looked wildly around; there was no sign of her friends, or anyone else. The doomed vessel was mercifully drifting near the pilings of the bridge that traversed the pond, and Pam decided to try for the pilings. The phrase 'sink or swim' came to mind, but she didn't really want to think about that.

She leaned out as the bridge grew nearer, and leapt, pushing off of the dory, which sank slowly beneath the surface as it drifted along. She crashed into the nearest piling, thankful for the padding of her bunched-up apron and the sodden quilt. She clung to the piling; below the surface, the toe of one of her boots barely touched a beam of wood. It was enough to support herself, but wasn't enough to give her some leverage to climb up any higher.

She stayed suspended between bridge and water, wondering what on earth she should do. There was no sign of her friends, and this bridge was not highly trafficked.

She began to form a plan in her mind that involved tossing her apron bundle up onto the bridge and then trying to swim to the shore. She had never learned to swim, but she figured she might as well try.

Just as she was thinking about how she would let go of the piling to unbutton her apron, she heard movement in the water. Craning her neck, she saw Jim Blythe in a rowboat, heading right toward her. She sighed and then regained her composure, trying to look as though she meant to be there.

With a wide grin, he floated up beside her and reached up to the bridge to stop his boat. “Pam Shirley, what are you doing here?” he asked.

“Fishing for lake trout,” she replied nonchalantly. She’d never admit that she was pretending to be the Lady of Shalott and had accidentally sunk her boat.

He laughed, and she noticed a fishing pole and tin pail of worms in his boat.

“Care to join me?” he asked, holding out his free hand.  Pam hesitated.

“Or, if you’d like, I think I saw Dwighde on the pond with the canoe he’s spent the last two years hewing, you could wait for him,” Jim added, and Pam finally smiled.

“Let me take you to the dock,” Jim offered, and this time, Pam let him grab her arm and pull her into the boat, which tipped as she tumbled awkwardly in.

She sat upright, dripping, and realized she’d almost tipped the pail of worms over. She reached down to move it to a more secure place when Jim reached down, too. “Here, I’ll move those, you won’t have to touch them,” he said.

Pam looked at him. “Why wouldn’t I touch them?” she asked, and Jim looked embarrassed.

“I thought girls were afraid of worms,” he said, and Pam shook her head. “I don’t mind them at all,” she said. Jim smiled.

“I should have known,” was his cryptic reply, and Pam wasn’t sure she liked it.

 “What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, and his smile faded.

“I didn’t mean anything bad, I just meant that you weren’t like other girls,” he said. He began rowing the oars through the water, leaving Pam to mull that thought over.

She wasn’t sure what to say, so she looked down, and then realized her apron was still rolled in a bunch at her chest. “Oh my goodness,” she said aloud and unrolled it.

Jim smiled. “I almost asked about that, but I decided not to,” he said. Pam laughed a little. “I didn’t want my sketch book to get wet,” she explained, feeling that the truth was probably the least odd answer she could give.  He nodded and then hesitated a moment before asking, “Can I see what you’ve drawn?”

Pam wasn’t sure why she nodded, but she held out the book to Jim. She felt instinctively that he wouldn’t make fun of her, and perhaps it was the calm of the pond or the loveliness of the day that made her want to share a little bit of herself.

He handed her the oars and he took the book. She busied herself by rowing while he flipped through the pages; she watched him look at her pictures. “Pam, these are really very good,” he said, sounding almost awed. Pam shook her head bashfully, but he continued, “No, they are! Look at this one, look how sad she is, looking into the water.”

A warm feeling welled up inside Pam. It was so nice to hear that someone thought what she did was good. “Can I keep this?” Jim asked, his cheeks red. Pam didn’t know what to say, so she nodded. Jim carefully tore the page from the book and handed the book back to her.

They bumped up against the dock, and Pam was almost disappointed, which frightened her a bit. She clambered out of the boat and said “Thank you for the ride, Mr. Blythe.”

Jim climbed out of the boat. “Pam, can’t we be friends?” he asked, “I know I hurt your feelings on your first day of school, and you don’t know how sorry I am.”

Pam nodded. “You did hurt them excruciatingly,” she agreed, remembering the pangs of sadness and embarrassment she had felt.

“Well, I only did it because I wanted to meet you so much,” said Jim, looking uncomfortable, and suddenly Pam felt herself flush.

“So are we friends?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Pam thought for a moment.

“All right, we’re friends. You certainly have helped me out of several situations lately. I suppose that’s very friendly,” she said, trying to eradicate some of the seriousness of unspoken thoughts that still hung in the air.

Jim grinned. “You’re lucky we’re friends now, because friends share good news, and I have some for you. Mr. Scott finally posted the results of the final exams and you and I tied for the highest score.”

Pam nearly dropped the soaking quilt she was clutching. “We got the highest score?” she asked incredulously. Jim grinned. “I’m just sorry you have to share it with me,” he said.

“I never expected to beat you,” she said, and she was overcome with the urge to tell Phyllis and Bob the news.

"I’m sorry, I just have to go. I need to tell the Vances, and I don’t want everyone to think I’ve drowned!” she said, and he laughed.

“Thank you, Jim!” she called back as she ran toward the path to Green Gables, and he waved to her. She didn’t mind that she was soaking wet and had nearly drowned; Jim’s kindness had warmed her somehow, and she thought that this was a good day.  

By the time Pam was fifteen, she had grown taller, her hair had grown long again, and she had settled into Avonlea as though she had been born there. Though some (mainly Katy Pye) still referred to her as 'the orphan the Vances adopted', she had carved out a place for herself in the town and was well liked by just about everyone. 

Her life had not changed much in two years. She still sat with Kelly at school, though their knees bumped the underside of the desk and their skirts were longer. They still picnicked with Meredith and Angela, though all had outgrown the custom of acting out stories and poems and preferred more intellectual conversation- that is, Pam and Angela enjoyed it, while Meredith and Kelly were still inclined to be silly about boys.

Meredith had announced that she intended to have three or four beaus on a string, and Kelly made it known that she only wanted one beau, but that his name had to start with 'Ryan' and end with 'Wright'.

That night, Pam had told Phyllis, "If that's what liking a boy is like, then I'm glad I have no interest in the subject." 

Phyllis had nodded, but then added, "It's good not to be too silly, but leave a little room for romance in your life, Pam."

Pam had smiled ruefully. "I will. I'm not in a rush though; it's so lovely to be just the way I am right now."

It was true; she had a wonderful home, enjoyable friends (even if they were a bit boy-crazy sometimes) and a rewarding school life. Her friendship with Jim had lent itself very naturally to a friendly rivalry in the classroom; each working hard to keep up with the other.

Pam enjoyed it very much; it was fun to see if she could best Jim in tests and bees, and she knew he enjoyed the challenge as well. Their friendship remained solely in the classroom, though. It was almost as if it would be something different if they spent time together outside the classroom. Pam didn't like the idea of what it might imply; she had no interest in courting or beaus, and Jim said nothing to push the issue. He seemed happy enough that there was no longer any animosity from Pam, and he wisely refrained from teasing her. Pam recognized him as a good friend and sometimes confidante when it came to her artwork, and she enjoyed their roles.

  *

One autumn afternoon found Pam and Phyllis in the sweltering kitchen at Green Gables. It was an unusually warm day and Phyllis had just finished her weekly baking of bread. Pam was occupied with a plum pudding, having promised Bob that she'd try her hand at it, as it was his favorite dessert.

Phyllis wiped her floury hands on a dishcloth and then wiped her apron over her sweaty brow. "Pam, I'm going out to the barns to get some cream,” she said, picking up a tin pail and heading out the kitchen door.

Pam privately thought that she wouldn't make the mistake of following Phyllis; once, she had entered the barn to see Bob kissing Phyllis with such fervor that it was embarrassing for Pam. They hadn't seen her, and she had crept out of the barn, cheeks blazing. That was one of the reasons she had decided that she had no room for romance at this point in her life. No one made her feel that way, and until someone did, she was not going to waste her time.

She reached into the cool cupboard where she had set the plum pudding sauce to rest last night and with a guilty start, she realized she hadn't set the cheesecloth on top of it as she was supposed to. Phyllis had warned her that mice loved the sweet sauce, and sure enough, a dead one was floating in the sauce, speckled with nutmeg as if it belonged there.

Pam nearly dropped the bowl but regained her composure. She fished it out with a spoon and tucked the offending intruder in a piece of butcher paper, hoping to sneak it out before Phyllis came back inside. 

Shuddering at the weight of the bundle in her hand, Pam started out the kitchen door just as Phyllis was climbing up the porch stairs. She had a pail of cream and also carried several tomatoes and a cucumber. "I thought since it's so hot, that we could have a cold dinner. I'll just slice up some bread and vegetables," said Phyllis. 

"Sounds lovely to me!" said Pam as she sidled through the door and ran out to the wooden rubbish bin near the pigpen. Using a stick, she buried her parcel deep within and hurried back into the kitchen.

Phyllis looked at her quizzically when Pam scrubbed her hands under the pump, but said nothing and went back to slicing tomatoes; evidently she had grown used to the sometimes odd ways of young girls. 

As Pam moved from the pump back to the table, they heard a sharp knock on the front door. "Who on earth is calling now, just before suppertime?" wondered Phyllis with a slight look of annoyance. She untied her apron and hung it on a hook as she headed toward the front entryway.

As soon as Pam heard Mr. Scott's voice at the front door, she got a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach.  Had Dwighde figured out that it had been she and Jim that had inched his inkwell across his desk each time he'd gone to the outhouse last week? Jim had nearly convinced him that there were ghostly forces present, but perhaps Dwighde had figured out the truth and tattled to Mr. Scott. Or perhaps Dwighde had discovered that it had been she and Jim who had traded his advanced reader with that of Abby Malone, who was only ten and quite keen to be in on the joke. Dwighde had been so angry when he had studied the wrong words for the weekly spelling bee, so perhaps he had weaseled the truth out of Abby and then told Mr. Scott?

She crept to the doorway and moved silently into the parlor, wiping her wet hands on her apron. She saw Mr. Scott remove his hat and bow to Phyllis.

"Good evening, Miss Cuth-, I mean to say, Mrs. Vance! I keep forgetting that you finally got married. Goodness, that must have been a relief to a woman of your age," he said brightly.

"Michael, I'm the same age as you," Phyllis said amiably, ignoring the slight in his speech with the expertise of someone who had known the man for a long time.  

"No, I think you've got a few years on me," chuckled Mr. Scott.

"Michael, we went through Avonlea school from the primary class until we graduated," replied Phyllis in the same tone. "And you're not married yet."

Mr. Scott smiled and waved his hand. "It's different for men," he said heartily.

"Michael, is there something I can help you with?" asked Phyllis, now sounding a bit tired.

"Actually, I came here to talk about Pam," he said, and Pam cowered even more into the darkness of the parlor.

"Oh dear, what has she done now?" she heard Phyllis ask.

"Nothing in the way of smashing school supplies, don't worry. I was coming to see if she would be interested in joining a special class I'm starting for students who are interested in attending Queens College in the next few years," said Mr. Scott, and Pam's heart jumped.

"Our Pam? Go to college?" asked Phyllis, a note of pride in her voice. Pam moved out of the shadows, and Phyllis smiled at her. "How's that, Pam? Would you like to go to college and pass for a teacher?"

Pam's mind raced. She had never given much thought to her future other than rosy fantasies of traveling and painting beautiful scenes, but now the prospect of college made her see that others thought she could do things as well. Being a teacher would mean that she could support herself and contribute something to society after feeling like a burden for so much of her life, and Pam rather liked the idea. 

"Mr. Scott, won’t you stay for supper and tell Pam all about it?" asked Phyllis graciously.

He assented, and as she led him into the parlor, Phyllis whispered to Pam, "There's that ham in the icebox, we'll heat that up and stew the tomatoes. We can't give him a cold dinner, who knows what he would tell people!" 

Pam moved into the kitchen and carried out Phyllis's orders as Bob came in from the barns and washed up for dinner.

He seemed delighted when Mr. Scott and Phyllis filled him in. "Our little girl, a college woman?" he said, squeezing Pam affectionately, and Pam could do nothing but smile.

They sat down to eat in the dining room, and Mr. Scott looked around saying, "Goodness, you've done well for yourselves; Vance Dairy must be booming!"

Pam and Bob could only look at each other at this pronouncement; luckily, Phyllis appeared with the ham on a tray. "Ah, baked Pam and tomatoes," joked Mr. Scott, and Pam wondered if this was going to be a very long meal.

After breezing through diverse topics such as sugar ("I told Mother I couldn't believe how much Mr. Lawson charged me for a bag of brown sugar!) and the Widow Gould (“I'm quite certain that she's just waiting a more appropriate amount of time before I may begin to court her.") Mr. Scott finally got around to telling Pam about the Queen's class.

"I thought three times a week for an hour after school might be a good amount to give you some additional instruction in order to make admission to college easier, so I'm gathering up a group of students. Perhaps now the school board will see that I am actually teaching, since they seem unconvinced," he said, finishing up his helping of ham and vegetables.

"Who else is in the class?" asked Bob, and Mr. Scott leaned back in his chair. "I haven't gotten around to everyone yet, but there's Kevin Spurgeon MacPherson, Toby Sloane, Jim Blythe, Katy Pye..."

"I'll join," said Pam earnestly, and Phyllis glanced at her curiously as she went to get dessert from the kitchen.

It was only when Phyllis carried in four heaping dishes of plum pudding covered liberally in nutmeg sauce did Pam remember her furry little problem from earlier.

She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. How on earth would they react? She sat, frozen in fear and disbelief, and only when Mr. Scott was about to take his first bite could she finally speak.

"Mouse!" she gasped and Mr. Scott shrieked and dropped the spoon.

"Pam, what are you talking about?" asked Bob, noting the absence of a mouse in the room. "Is this a joke?" asked Mr. Scott, panting.

“A mouse drowned in the sauce, and I tried to tell you just now," said Pam miserably, and Phyllis jumped up and hurriedly gathered the pudding dishes.

"I forgot to put the cheesecloth over it, and I got distracted by the cows outside, it looked like they were having a conversation, and I was wishing I could draw them."

At that, Bob's red face grew redder, and he started to laugh. Phyllis broke down into laughter as well, and even Pam managed a sheepish smile. "I guess it was a delicious way to drown," she said, and finally, Mr. Scott smiled reluctantly.

It was only later as she got ready for bed in her little gabled bedroom that Pam wondered what Mr. Scott would say to her in school. She groaned at the thought. Still, she was going to try her hardest to be a college girl, and that thought carried her happily to sleep.

It was a fortunate situation for Pam that things had been easy for her since arriving in Avonlea. What she now thought of as her previous life had been rife with disappointments, both large and small. She had learned to face them and live with them, but living in Avonlea had made her life so much more pleasant. She certainly had her share of little worrisome thoughts, like how her dresses were still woefully unfashionable, but these were tiny disappointments. It was a shock then, when Kelly was not able to join the Queen's class with the rest of them.

"My parents think it might be a waste of time and money for me to go to college. Father says perhaps I can join the class next winter, but Mother thinks I'd do better to get married after I graduate," she said to Pam as they walked to school the morning after the mouse incident.

"Oh, Kelly, I'm sorry," said Pam, sad for her friend and sad that she might soon be facing a new world without Kelly's delightful companionship.

"It's all right, I don't mind. A lot of the girls aren't joining the class, and some of the boys, too. Besides, you'll have to stay at school while I get to go home. You'll love college, though, I just know it. It's perfect for you," said Kelly, and Pam reached over and squeezed her friend's hand.

"You'll just have to deal with Katy Pye on your own," continued Kelly with a smirk," Although I'm sure Jim would help you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" asked Pam, growing slightly uncomfortable.

"Pam, he would climb mountains for you," said Kelly with the maddening air of someone who thinks she knows a secret.

"I don't know what you mean," said Pam, "We're just friends and that's all."

"Don't you care for him?" asked Kelly, growing more serious.

"Ever so much as a friend and not at all in the way that you mean," said Pam decisively. In her mind, this was true. She and Jim shared a wonderful friendship, but it was nothing more than that to her.

"He's not the type I'd choose, anyway. I'd love to marry a man with dark hair and snapping dark eyes, with an air of wickedness about him. Of course, I could never marry a truly wicked man, but I'd like it if he could be wicked and chose not to, because of me."

Kelly laughed and squeezed her hand. "There's no one like that in Avonlea, silly girl," she said.

"Well, I haven't yet met him then," said Pam, and laughing, they continued to school.

*

The Queen's class blossomed into an actual academic endeavor. Pam was surprised that Mr. Scott was as invested in it as he turned out to be; his methods seemed lackadaisical to her at times, but he really did seem to want to get them off to a good start. They were to meet three times a week after school, and the first two times were actually quite enjoyable, Pam thought. It was a nice, smaller group, and they felt part of something special. Katy Pye didn't even irritate Pam, though she did mention several times that it didn't matter if she passed her first year of college because her father could afford to send her again. Pam had no intention of failing anything, so she worked hard as she always did.

The morning of the third Queen's Class day, a Thursday, dawned warm and bright. The students were all working steadily and quietly after lunch when a carriage pulled up in front of the schoolhouse.

"Mr. Scott, The Widow Gould is here, what does she want?" asked Dwighde loudly, getting up from his seat to peer out the window.

"I don't know, Dwighde, sit down and act like you're working," said Mr. Scott anxiously.

The Widow Gould's late husband had been one of the school board members, and she was acting in his place. This was the only reason Pam could fathom that she might be visiting the school, she certainly kept a wide berth around Mr. Scott any other time.

"Come in, come in, Mrs. Gould," said Mr. Scott as the Widow Gould approached the schoolhouse door. "Or are you Miss Levinson again?" 

"No, Mr. Scott, I'm still Mrs. Gould even though Arthur has passed," said the Widow Gould with a sigh. "May I have a word with you?"

"Certainly, Madame," he said, standing up and bowing. She approached his desk and the students were silent, straining to hear what was being said.

"Superintendent Wallace would like to have a brief meeting with you as soon as possible, so I've been sent to fetch you," she said, and Mr. Scott looked surprised.

"Now?" he said, "But school isn't over yet."

"We'll stop by the Stacey farm and have Miss Muriel Stacey come take the school for the rest of the afternoon," replied Mrs. Gould, and the older students glanced furtively at Kevin Spurgeon MacPherson, who grinned and raised his eyebrows. He liked Miss Stacey.  

"All right children, I'll be back as soon as possible. Queen's Class, that means you as well. I'll be back to lead you into the scholarly halls of macadamia...er..academia." said Mr. Scott, standing up and gathering his possessions.

"Don't be upset, don't cry, I'll be fine," he said the primer students, who looked back at him blankly, having no intention of crying.

At the door, he turned around and gave a big wave and a grave smile. As soon as the door closed behind them, Dwighde stood up and moved imperiously to the front of the room. "Since I am Assistant Schoolmaster, I will be in charge until Miss Stacey arrives."

At this pronouncement, a few of the smallest children really did begin to cry, and Pam shifted uncomfortably in her seat next to Kelly. Dwighde could do some real damage by then.

As she was wondering what to do, Jim unfolded his tall frame from his desk and stood up. "Assistant to the schoolmaster, and I think we should all just carry on as we were. If anyone needs help, ask one of us older students, we haven't quite forgotten everything Mr. Scott has taught us," he said, and the younger students giggled.

Pam marveled at how good Jim was in situations like these. He always made everyone comfortable, and he didn't even humiliate Dwighde, which was a nice touch.

She continued to study her dreaded geometry, the bane of her existence, and realized she hadn't brought her ruler. She moved to the front of the room to Mr. Scott's desk, knowing he wouldn't mind if she borrowed his own ruler.

She searched the top drawer of the schoolmaster's desk, and not finding it, opened the bottom drawer. The ruler lay on top of a stack of paper, and Pam couldn't help noticing what was written on the top sheet. When her eyes read the words "Duel at Midnight: A Play in Nine Acts By Mr. Michael G. Scott, Professor of Education," Pam knew she had to do something with this treasure trove.

She edged the stack out of the drawer and flipped to a page. When she saw what was written, she knew exactly what she had to do. She marched over to Jim's desk and slapped it down, trying hard not to smile.

"What's this?" he asked, interested.

"It's a play Mr. Scott wrote, starring himself," she replied gleefully, perching on the edge of the desk.

Jim flipped through the pages. "Oh, Pam, good work!" he said, grinning widely. She stood up and gave a little curtsy. "You're quite welcome," she said as he stood.

"Hear ye, hear ye," he said loudly, attracting the attention of all the students, "I proclaim that the next lesson shall be a lesson in dramatics, as the new Avonlea School House Theatrical Society presents the literary magnum opus of Mr. Scott."

Angela looked disapproving and called out, "Mrs. Lynde still says that acting is a sin, Jim Blythe."

Jim shook his head, nonplussed. "This is a school lesson, a presentation of the work of our fine schoolmaster. Let's see...Pam, would you play the part of Lady Janet the Fair, and...Oscar, will you be Squire Goldsword? Ryan, you can be Dweet the Simple, and I'll be the narrator."

Dwighde stood up at his desk as the other came to the front of the classroom. "I don't think this is a good idea, James, that is Mr. Scott's private-"

"Dwighde, would you like to play the lead role of Sir Michael Scarn?" interrupted Jim, and Dwigde looked torn for a moment before he scurried up the aisle, knocking Pam with his elbow in his haste to reach the front.

Pam took her place next to Jim as he began to read, "The curtains open to reveal the slain carcass of a dragon, and Sir Michael Scarn enters, waving his sword in the air. At the same time, Lady Janet enters, clasping a handkerchief."

Jim handed the page to Pam, who accepted it with a smile.

"Oh, Sir Scarn, you're so brave to slay this giant dragon! I do feel as though I shall faint from awe!" read Pam, handing the page over to Dwighde.

"It was my pleasure, Lady Janet the Fair. I do believe your late husband could not have done as well as I," he read, "Now where is my page, Dweet the Simple?"

"Here I am, Sir Scarn," read Ryan, grinning, "Oh dear me, I forgot the sheath for your sword. I guess we can wipe the blood off with my tunic! Lady Janet, do you have a spare sheath?"

"Dweet, you are so simple. Why do you always forget things?" read Dwighde.

"I don't know, Sir Scarn, I guess I'm not as brave and smart as you!" read Ryan, who handed the page back to Jim, who continued, "Just then, Squire Goldsword enters with his gold sword."

Oscar, a quiet boy with dark hair read, "Sir Scarn, it is I, Goldsword, to help you fight the other dragons. I don't think I can do as well as you, but I will try."

Pam received the next page from Oscar and read her next line with great gusto, "Oh, Sir Scarn, the next dragon is even bigger? Whatever shall you do? I think I shall faint again!"

She handed off the page to Ryan. ”Sir Scarn, if the swords fail, you can always feed them poisoned beets!"

Dwighde continued with a convincing snarl, "Dweet, don't be ridiculous. The dragon would eat our arms off, and beets are revolting. We don't want to make the dragon vomit! Nay to beets!"

Dwighde suddenly put down the script, looking angry. "Jim, this is wrong. I refuse to take part anymore."

He stomped to the schoolhouse door and then turned to face everyone again. "My uncle brought me some firecrackers from Charlottetown, so if anyone wants to see a real show, come outside."

"That's right, it's time for school to end," said Jim, and most of the students gathered their things to go. Kevin ran out the door to help Dwighde with the firecrackers.

A few of the older students remained, Pam included. She had no desire to be outside when Dwighde burnt off his fingers, and she could see it through the window anyway. A few loud bangs and a smattering of applause told them that Dwighde's show was over.

"Well, I'm not staying for the Queen's class if there's no teacher," said Katy Pye, "I'd rather go home."

She flounced out the door, and Pam wasn't sorry to see her go. "I suppose someone should wait here for Miss Stacey or Mr. Scott," said Toby Sloane.

"I'll stay, I'd like to get some studying done," said Pam. Toby looked down sadly. "I can't stay. I've got to take my sister home today and watch her, Mother and Father won't be home from Newbridge until evening," he said, looking gravely disappointed.

"I'll keep you company, Pam, I don't mind studying here either," said Jim, and Toby turned away without a word, shoulders drooping.

One by one, the Queen's class students drifted out the door, not wanting to stay if there was no teacher. When Kevin, who had been waiting anxiously for Miss Stacey, reluctantly bade them goodbye, Pam looked up from her geometry and realized that only she and Jim were left. "Do you think we should leave?" asked Jim from across the aisle.

"I don't mind staying until Miss Stacey or Mr. Scott comes back," said Pam, "It's nice and quiet for studying."

"It certainly is. Are you hungry?" asked Jim, and Pam nodded." A little. By this time of day, Phyllis usually has something for tea for me. She says I need meat on my bones."

Jim grinned. "Well, you're perfect as is, but if you don't mind waiting a few moments, I'll be back before you get five more problems done. Are you up to the challenge? Five problems for some food?"

Pam laughed. "I think I can do it, Mr. Blythe."

Jim left, and Pam moved herself and her geometry out to the porch and sat on the steps, liking how the sunlight streamed on the pages and made her slate warm to the touch.

She was finishing up the fifth problem and starting on the sixth when Jim reappeared, out of breath but triumphant. "Here I am, bearing nourishment," he said, sitting next to her on the steps.

"Nice try, but I win. I've started the sixth problem," said Pam, showing him her slate.

"Now Miss Shirley, boasting is a sin, so just pipe down and eat your fancy bread and cheese," replied Jim, handing her a slice of warm bread and cheese.

"Where did this come from?" asked Pam, taking a bite.

"You might be amazed at what a handful of wildflowers and the promise to weed her rose garden does for Mrs. Allen. I told her you were simply fainting with hunger, so she sent the bread and cheese, and also these," he said, dropping four molasses cookies onto Pam's apron.

"Thank you, that was very gallant of you, Sir Scarn," teased Pam, and Jim bowed his head. "Humbly, my fair Lady Janet."

The two sat in silence and ate every delicious morsel of bread, cheese and cookie as they watched the sun sink closer to the trees.

When they couldn't see the sun anymore, Pam wrapped her arms around herself to warm herself from the slight chill. "I guess we should go home, I don't think they're coming back," she said.

"You're probably right. It's getting dark, I'll walk you home," said Jim, and they retrieved their belongings from the schoolhouse. Jim pulled the door tightly closed behind them, and they set off down the road.

"I never thought that this day would include a literary masterpiece by our very own schoolmaster," said Jim, and Pam laughed.

"Poor Dwighde. I hope he didn't realize how close ‘Dweet’ was to his own name, and I think he was truly hurt by the slight against beets."

"I know it isn't well to speak ill of our teacher, but subtlety is not one of Mr. Scott's talents," said Jim, shaking his head.  

"I hope his meeting with Superintendent Wallace went well, if he's unhappy, then he might not finish the play," said Pam, "And we'll never find out what happened between Lady Janet and Sir Scarn, and whether the biggest dragon was slain with…poisoned beets."

“Too true,” said Jim, “You’ve got to admire Mr. Scott for being so persistent, but it is a little sad sometimes.”

Pam laughed but said nothing, and the friends walked in silence for a few moments.

Suddenly Jim stopped and rested his hand on Pam’s arm to stop her. “Listen,” he said quietly, “The choir is practicing.”

Pam cocked her head toward the church, and heard lilting voices lifted up in a beautiful hymn. The music was always Pam’s favorite thing about church; she loved the warm feeling it gave her and it always made her feel so safe. She closed her eyes and felt the song and the wind blow over her.

She began to sway very slightly with the music, feeling very warm inside. She swayed quietly and as the hymn finished, she slowly opened her eyes and realized that Jim’s eyes were closed and he was swaying as well. They were standing very near each other and Pam didn’t know what to do. Her stomach had a queer ache in it.

The choir director’s voice broke the spell that seemed to have washed over them, and Jim opened his eyes. “I guess we’d better keep going,” he said, not looking her in the eye. “Yes, Phyllis and Bob will be worried if I’m too much later than this,” said Pam, and her voice seemed so loud. 

The air seemed colder now that they were walking, and she shivered inadvertently. Without a word, Jim draped his woolen sweater over her shoulders and she felt warm.

They walked in silence to the gate at Green Gables, and then Pam finally spoke. “Thank you for walking me home,” she said, handing him his sweater.

"You’re welcome,” he said, giving her a small smile. She waved as she walked down the path to the house, and he waved in return. Her mind flashed to the conversation with Kelly that morning, and the queer ache returned to her stomach.

She had no idea what to think, but she felt as though she and Jim had shared some sort of otherworldly experience outside the church. A realization came to her, and she smiled at this new thought. Jim was as good a friend to her as Kelly. While they could laugh and joke, they also shared the ability to be together in silence. She felt that she now knew what delightful friends boys could be, and she felt that their friendship would be one for the books, as they say.

Nothing was ever said between Pam and Jim about the drawing she mailed him in apology, aside from the small smile he gave her when they entered the schoolhouse the following Monday.

They had seemed to reach an unspoken agreement never to discuss the matter, yet Jim always gave her an encouraging smile when Mr. Scott called her Pambrandt again, or Leonardo Pamvinci, or, his personal favorite, Pamelangelo. She was much relieved to have Jim back on her side; she had never before appreciated how much his opinions meant to her.  Once they had finally become friends, it had been strange to be angry at him, even for a few moments.

When they left the schoolhouse for the last time that summer, Pam felt a keen sense of sorrow. This had been the first place where she had felt she had truly belonged, and she was sad to see her time there come to a close. She had always felt like this at momentous times in her life, and if one were to look closely at her paintings and drawings, one might see a certain shadow or darkness that wasn't normally present. 

In the weeks following, she was acutely aware of the finality of many of her activities. "This is the last time I'll take the wagon to Markdale for Bob," she thought, or "This is the last time I'll go berrying with Kelly, Meredith and Angela."

In her mind she felt it wasn't that she was not excited for Queen's College; on the contrary, she was thrilled at the thought of passing for a teacher, something she had dreamt of for years. She had scarcely thought it was possible but in the past few years had gained courage and confidence. The reality of it was that she dearly loved her life in Avonlea and was slightly wary of what the change in venue might bring for her. Avonlea folks accepted her for who she was and she had many friends, but what if Queen's College was different?

Phyllis and Bob noticed the change in her, and when Phyllis voiced her worries to Mrs. Marjorie Lynde, the woman was comforting. "She's just got a case of nerves. The shy ones often do. She'll be fine."

Pam herself suspected that she'd be fine once she got to school, but that didn't stop her from having a rather bittersweet summer. She and the other girls rarely got away from chores and preparing for college, so Pam didn't get to see her friends as often as she would have liked. She helped Phyllis and Bob around the farm and spent her evenings at her easel, sketching and drawing all the sights dear to her.

It came to pass that Kelly would be having a going-away party for all the college bound young folk, and Pam was excited at the prospect. It would be a hayride and bonfire, and Kelly's father had promised to carry down the Victrola so there could be dancing. Bob would supply the ice cream, and Mrs. Barry would be preparing many sweet and savoury dishes.

"It's guilt, that's what," said Mrs. Lynde, over for tea one afternoon. "They're trying to make up for not letting Kelly go to Queen's, they've been mighty overprotective of her since that sister of hers died right before going to college."

The day of the party was clear and bright; there was a crisp nip in the air and the leaves were beginning their change into brilliance. Pam dressed in her favorite blue dress, adding a thick sweater for warmth. In the mirror, she twisted her hair up in a pompadour and pinned it. She looked quite grown up, she thought, but she felt more like a child playing at being an adult. She pulled a few loose curls down to frame her face and quite liked the effect.

She said goodbye to Bob and Phyllis and headed down the path towards the Barry house. She was early, but she thought it would be nice to help Kelly, and perhaps they'd be able to chat while they worked; Pam had barely been able to speak with her in nearly a week. Pam supposed she'd better get used to it, since she'd only be able to exchange letters with Kelly once school started, save for some weekends when she'd be able to take the train back to Avonlea.

She slowed down as she approached the Barry property, for she heard low voices and didn't wish to intrude. What she saw made her stop short. Kelly was standing next to Ryan Wright, their heads bent together; he was saying something and she was laughing a low, un-Kellylike laugh, and his arm was circled around her waist in an intimate gesture. Pam quickly stepped back, face burning. She had no idea that was happening and felt almost hurt that Kelly hadn't told her. To find out  this way was less than wonderful, and Pam felt strangely lonely as she watched her friend enter a world that was heretofore unknown to both of them.

She stood for a moment, wondering what she should do. She had half a mind to return to Green Gables for a little while until the actual party started, but then she'd have to face Phyllis's questioning. She heard a noise and turned to see Jim tromping up the path towards her. "'Evening, Pam," he said, "What makes you look so bewildered?"

Pam pointed toward Kelly and Ryan. "I had no idea that this was happening," she said quietly, "It just took me by surprise, I guess."

Jim grinned. "Ryan mentioned that he'd been seeing a little of Kelly," he said, and Pam's insides squirmed. Was she the last to know?

Jim moved ahead of her toward Ryan and Kelly, and Pam decided she might as well follow. Kelly and Ryan broke apart, and Kelly moved toward Pam as the boys began to talk. "Paaaam!" squealed Kelly quietly, slipping her arm around Pam's waist. "Why didn't you tell me?" asked Pam, half smiling and half sad.

"I haven't been able to see you, it's been terrible, but oh, Ryan is so sweet and it's so exciting!" said Kelly. "That's so nice," said Pam, but Kelly was already off and running toward the house.

They said no more about it as the four of them set up the party. Pam watched Kelly and Ryan shoot smiles and tender glances at each other, and she felt strange again. It wasn't that she was not happy for Kelly, on the contrary. She didn't know why she felt to strange, perhaps she was just sad at being left behind, and a small part of her recognized that she'd very much like to be looked at like that. She imagined meeting a tall, dark stranger at college. He would whisper in her ear, and take her dancing, and she'd laugh quietly and take his arm.

The thought made her grin, and Jim saw it. "What's the smile for?" he asked, and she glanced up at him. "I'll never tell, " she said, blushing slightly. Jim just shook his head at her.

Nothing else was said of the matter as the party began in full swing. Mr. Barry loaded up his hay wagon and took the lot of them for a hayride around Avonlea. The wagon was crowded, full of giggling and shouting as everyone embraced one last vestige of childhood before the grown-up world of college and marriage swallowed them. Pam laughed joyfully with Kelly and Meredith, and even Angela allowed a bit of indignity when she started a hay fight with Dwighde Schrude.

They all watched as Mr. Scott waved from the lane and hopped on the hay wagon amid looks of consternation.  Pam turned to Kelly to exclaim over this, but Kelly had turned to Ryan, and they were cozily holding hands. Pam didn't want to intrude, and even as she turned away, she found herself with a faceful of hay, courtesy of Jim. "Jim Blythe! I'll get you for that!" she cried, returning the favor and flinging hay into his hair.

Back at the Barry farm, they climbed down from the hay wagon, all looking disheveled and pink-cheeked. Pam thought they looked like a gaggle of scarecrows, especially poor Toby Sloane, who was pulling hay from inside his knickerbockers.

While they were gone, Mrs. Barry had laid out the food, and they all set upon it hungrily. Kelly's parents had invited some of the elder Avonlea crowd for a supper party, promising Kelly that they'd leave the younger folk alone. Their table was set at a distance, and Pam waved to Phyllis and Bob who were conversing with Mrs. Lynde and the Widow Gould.

As she ate, Pam watched Mr. Scott trot back and forth between the two groups, as though he did not want to miss any excitement that might occur without him. "I'm absolutely convinced that he thinks his invitation was lost in the post," said a voice in her ear, and she turned to see Jim.

"Or perhaps he thinks he was invited to both parties and Mrs. Barry and Kelly each thought the other sent the invitation," offered Pam, and Jim laughed. "Either way, it's slightly embarrassing," Pam said,  "but I almost think I'll miss Mr. Scott at college."

"For all we know, he may decide to go to teacher's college again, and we'll never be shot of him," said Jim, and they helped themselves to ice cream as Kelly wound the Victrola and Ryan stoked the bonfire.

A beautiful waltz floated across the party, and everyone was shocked to see Mr. Scott extend his hand to the Widow Gould; even more surprisingly, she accepted. Others began to dance; Pam watched Bob lead Phyllis to the space cleared for dancing, Phyllis's face glowing with pride and pleasure.

Everyone was startled when the music stopped abruptly, for Mr. Scott had pulled the needle from the record. He climbed precariously onto a chair. "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I have a proclamation to make!" he cried, holding his arms out for balance. Dwighde stood below him, arms ready to catch him should Mr. Scott fall.

"As you may know, I have been in pursuit of the charming Widow Gould for these past six years, and tonight, she has consented to dance with me. My darling Janet, you have made me the happiest man on this chair tonight. Will you do me the honor of honoring me by promising to make me make you a widow no more?"

The heads of the crowd snapped around to look at the Widow Gould; her face was white and her eyes were blazing. "Mr. Scott!" she hissed through clenched teeth."Get down from there!"

Mr. Scott's smile was frozen on his face. "Well?" he asked, arms still outstretched. "Please may we discuss this in private?" asked the Widow Gould, and Pam knew she was trying to avoid a scene. She likely knew the news would have spread through the town by morning, no matter what. Pam caught Jim's eye and stopped herself from giggling aloud as Jim motioned slitting his throat. She wound an imaginary noose around her throat, and he grinned.

They all watched as Mr. Scott visibly wilted and climbed down from his chair, Dwighde lending a hand. The crowd dispersed, all talking animatedly as the Widow Gould clamped a hand around Mr. Scott's arm and dragged him away.

Mrs. Lynde made her way to Pam, shaking her head. "That man will be the death of himself. Pam dear, come talk to the Reverend Leonard about that Rollings Reliable contest, he's real excited for you."

Pam allowed herself to be led by Mrs. Lynde over to the Reverend, where she spent several minutes hesitantly recounting the saga of events. When she finally managed to excuse herself, she walked back over to the party only to find nearly everyone paired off and dancing. She saw Kelly and Ryan dancing lightly, their eyes locked together. 

Incredibly, Angela was dancing with Dwighde Schrude, everyone giving them a wide berth as they nearly bumped into Stanley and Theresa. Pam looked around for a friend with whom to exclaim over this state of affairs; Meredith was manning the punch bowl and talking with two boys. Pam crossed over to her as the boys darted away behind the summer kitchen.

"I just can't get that Oscar to ask me to dance," Meredith grumbled, "I just don't know why."  She took a large swig of punch just as a young man named Gary approached her. "Meredith, didn't you promise me a dance before we left school?" he asked, holding out his hand.

Meredith smiled and Pam was left alone again, standing next to the punch bowl. She watched as Kevin approached Miss Muriel Stacey and then Phyllis and Bob danced, eyes only on each other and suddenly Pam felt very lonely.

She moved away from the dancing and sidled into the barn, thinking she'd rather visit the horses than be a wallflower. She entered the barn and welcomed the stillness and the quiet. She supposed she ought to be used to things growing and changing; nearly her whole life had been spent feeling uprooted and uncertain. Still, she thought, why did things and people have to change? It would be so lovely to live the rest of her life just as it was, with her good friends at her side and Phyllis and Bob to care about her. 

She stroked the velvety muzzle of a horse as music from the Victrola faintly trickled in.  She closed her eyes and imagined being at a college dance with her tall dark stranger. He'd bow to her and offer his hand, and she'd curtsy. Pam placed her hand on her stranger's invisible shoulder and one in his airy hand, imagining a strong hand on her waist. She waltzed lightly on her toes, imagining a soft, floating dress swirling around her instead of her old blue muslin. She could almost hear him whispering "You look as lovely as a rose, my darling" in her ear, and she smiled and blushed. "Why thank you," she said demurely, gazing up at the air where his face would be if he were indeed, real.

Suddenly the air in front of her was filled by Jim's face. "May I?" he asked, offering his hand, and Pam had no choice but to nod. Thankfully, Jim asked no questions regarding the fact that she had been dancing by herself and speaking to the air. She slid her hand into his warm one and put her other hand on his shoulder as she felt him place his other hand at her waist.

He was so tall, and Pam realized with a start that there was much more of a man about him, rather than the boy she had known. The realization that they were growing up struck her; she was wearing skirts that brushed her shoe tops, her hair was pinned up, and she saw that childhood was truly behind them.

They began to waltz around the barn floor, Jim's hand feeling strong on her waist. Pam had never danced with a boy before, and she found it a rather different experience than with Kelly. Their knees knocked together. "I'm sorry! Kelly always makes me lead," said Pam, and Jim just nodded, muttering something under his breath.

"Are you counting?" asked Pam. Jim nodded again, saying "One, two, three, one, two, three" a little louder. Pam giggled and Jim laughed, evidently losing count, for he stepped on her toes. "I'm sorry," he said, "I'm not very good at this."

"Maybe I should lead," offered Pam, and Jim grinned down at her. She took the lead; it worked for a moment until she stepped on both of his feet. "Oh, my goodness, Jim! I'm sorry!" she laughed ruefully. "That's what copper-toed boots are for," he offered.

The song ended and they slowed to a stop. Pam realized how close they were standing; her skirts touched his trouser legs and she could feel his breath on her hair. She took a step back and let go of his hand. Her waist felt cold when he removed his hand, and she shivered slightly. "Where were you just now?" she asked, aware of the stillness in the room. "I didn't see you out there."

"Some of the fellows bought cigars off of Old Man Bratton and are smoking them behind the summer kitchen. I was there, but I wouldn't smoke anything from Old Man Bratton, you never know what might be in there," said Jim, and Pam managed a smile.  "Are you all right?" Jim asked.

Pam nodded, looking at the horses. "I just wish everything didn't have to change all at once," she said. "You mean going to school?" asked Jim, looking concerned.

"That's part of it. I just love living here, this is the first place that's been home to me, and I'm reluctant to leave, in a way," she said.

"We'll all be there with you, you won't be alone," said Jim, and Pam nodded. "I know, but it won't be the same as being here in Avonlea."

"You said that school was just part of it. What else is vexing you?"

Pam looked at the floor again. "I suppose just growing pains, as Mrs. Lynde would say. It's just so strange to see Kelly in love, and not know what it feels like. It must be amazing, I've never seen her look like that."

Jim nodded. "I know what you mean. It's a feeling unlike any other I've ever felt." It was his turn to look at the floor.

Pam looked at him. "When have you ever been in love?" she asked, surprised. He looked up at her and dread filled her stomach as she realized what seemed to hang in the air between them. Jim stepped toward her and grabbed her hands. "Pam, I-" he began.

"What- what are you doing?" she asked, not quite comprehending what was happening.

"I'm in love with you," Jim said, looking at her, crimson blooming on his cheeks. Pam's heart sank. This was all wrong, this shouldn't be happening, she and Jim were just good friends.

 "What?" she asked again faintly, not knowing what to say and wanting to make sure this was really happening. "I've loved you since the day I met you and you broke that slate over my head," Jim said. This was too much for her to hear. She breathed heavily, not taking her eyes off of him.

"Don't you care for me as well?" he asked, and she looked away from the hope in his eyes.

"Jim, I care for you ever so much as a friend," she said, and she couldn't stand the hurt that registered on his face.

"All these years, and I thought you were just hiding behind the friend excuse because you were too afraid," he said with a note of bitterness in his voice.

"I'm not afraid!" said Pam, and Jim smiled wanly. "Then say you'll marry me, Pam."

Hot tears seeped into the corners of Pam's eyes. "I couldn't marry you, you want someone who adores you," she said, desperately trying to convey the fact that the idea she had pictured of her future didn't include Jim. He was a close friend, of that she was certain, but she had the image of the faceless tall, dark stranger in the husband role in her mind.

Jim shook his head, and Pam saw that his eyes were bright, and the fact that she was seemingly breaking his heart rent a hole in her own. "Jim, I'm so sorry if I led you to believe I cared for you in that way. You're one of my dearest friends and I don't mean to hurt you," she choked.

"You've said your piece, and I understand. I'm sorry I read the signs wrong," said Jim, swiping at an eye with the back of his hand and turning away.

"Jim, please," begged Pam as he headed toward the door. "I'm desperately sorry."

Jim had taken a few steps away, but he crossed back to her and suddenly his lips were on her cheek as he kissed her softly. "I'm sorry, too. Good night Pam," he said stiffly, and then he was gone and Pam stood in the barn, tears flowing over her cheeks and splattering on her dress. She couldn't stay there one moment longer, she reached blindly for her sweater and slipped through the barn door.

She moved from the twinkling of the lanterns and bonfire into the still darkness of the night. She knew the path to Green Gables by heart and she ran blindly; allowing herself to fully sob, the sound was carried away by the wind. She felt horrible, but how could she have lied to Jim and pretended that she loved him? It wouldn't have been fair to either of them, but Pam's heart was broken just the same.

She climbed the stairs to her room and crawled into bed without undressing. The unsettling realization that Jim had loved her all this time scared her, his kiss burning on her cheek, and the thought that she had likely lost him as a friend carried her into a troubled, restless sleep.

The following few days were dark ones for Pam. She supposed it would cause a scandal in the small-town world of Avonlea if word got out that she had refused Jim Blythe after apparently flirting with him for years. Pam didn't know how she could be accused of flirting when she'd had no intention of ever doing so, but she supposed this was one of the unfair aspects of life. She knew for certain that she wanted to stay out of the realm of the town gossips, having been fodder for them since she had arrived in town several years previously.

Phyllis and Bob privately thought that Pam was nervous and anxious about moving to college, and therefore did not pry. She didn't discuss what had happened with Phyllis, for though Phyllis was a very sympathetic person, she liked Jim very much, and Pam was ashamed of how she had treated him. Instead, Pam decided to speak to Kelly, and fortunately, she was able to see her the day after the party.

They decided to walk around the orchard in the crisp air. Kelly waxed rhapsodic about the party for several moments before noticing how quiet Pam was. "What's wrong?" she asked, concernedly slipping an arm around Pam's waist.

The sweet gesture broke the dam in Pam's heart, and tears slipped down her cheeks. "I've ruined everything, I don't know why he had to go and say something like that to me," she babbled, and for once, Kelly wasn't oblivious to meaning. "Pam, do you mean to say you've gone and turned down Jim Blythe?" she asked, and Pam nodded miserably.

"You dear little goose, why would you do something like that?" asked Kelly, and Pam shook her head. "Because I don't love him, he's a dear friend but nothing more," she said, wiping her face with her handkerchief and stuffing it back into her apron pocket. "Why won't anyone believe that?"

"Pam, you've spent all these years with him, and everyone could plainly see that you two belonged together. That's why I never chased him," said Kelly, squeezing her.

"But we were only ever good friends, I never meant him to think any more of it," said Pam anxiously. "I'm not in love with him."

"Pam, sometimes I wonder if you've made falling in love out to be something more than it is. Maybe it just grows out of friendship. When Ryan and I fell in love, it just happened. There were no bells and whistles," said Kelly, and Pam was relieved that there was not a trace of smugness in her tone, for she couldn't have borne it if Kelly condescended to her at a time like this.

"But I know I'm not in love with Jim," protested Pam, "Isn't it enough that I know it myself?"

"I suppose," said Kelly skeptically, and Pam's heart sank. For all she loved Kelly, sometimes Kelly just didn't understand her. With a pang, Pam realized that the one who would best understand how she felt, who always understood how she felt, was Jim, and she certainly would never be able to talk to him about this. She'd be lucky if he ever spoke to her again, and the thought of a world without Jim made the tears fall again. Kelly gave her another comforting squeeze, and they continued their walk until Pam calmed down.

"Perhaps a change of scenery will do you good," offered Kelly. "Oh, but I'll miss you most of all," said Pam, and Kelly hugged her. "Silly girl, we'll write letters all day. Goodness knows, I won't be living an exciting life here. And you'll come home on the weekends, and you'll meet that tall, dark stranger and I'll be terribly jealous and I shan't speak to you ever again until I steal him from you," said Kelly, and Pam laughed. She did love that Kelly could always make her feel better.

*

The following Tuesday dawned bright and sunny, which was contrary to Pam's mood. She felt it ought to be cloudy and rainy, feeling that way inside. Her school trunk was packed twice over; Phyllis had wanted to make sure Pam had everything she needed. Her dresses were all starched and pressed, and Phyllis had sewn bloomers and petticoats out of cotton sheeting, so they'd be sturdy.

At the Avonlea depot, a small crowd had gathered to bid farewell to the autumnal crop of young folk beginning college. Bob helped a porter load Pam's trunk onto the train, and he gave Pam a bear hug. She hugged Phyllis, too, who clutched her tightly and said, "You were the best thing to happen to us, Pam, dear."

"Oh, I'll miss you both terribly," said Pam, not wanting to weep in public, but fearing that she might do so. "Now listen, don't get your feathers in a twirl, Pam'll be home for the weekend before you know it," said Bob, the lone voice of reason. Pam laughed, all the while conscientious of the fact that a certain person was not present at the depot.

Next to Bob and Phyllis stood Kelly, weeping copiously into a large handkerchief. Ryan stood next to her, looking troubled and uncomfortable.

"I'll just miss you-you all so terrrrriiibly," she sobbed. Pam hugged her tightly and then climbed onto the train with Meredith and Angela.

Meredith was nonplussed. "I can't wait to meet college boys," she said, "Aren't you excited, Angela?"

"No," said Angela sternly, but Pam, detecting a note of sadness in her voice, turned to see a solitary Dwighde Schrude standing solemnly with a cabbage rose in his buttonhole. She decided to let sleeping dogs lie, for when Angela looked like that, it was best not to vex her.

"Goodness, what is that dreadful Dwighde Schrude doing here?" said a voice, and Katy Pye plopped herself unceremoniously next to Meredith. "I'm glad he's not going to Queen's, aren't you girls?"

Angela's cheeks turned pink, and Pam placed her hand on top of Angela's, who shot her a look of gratitude. Was love mixed up for everyone?

*

Pam's boarding house transpired to be neat and clean, and the mistress was pleasant. Mrs. Lynde had located the most respectable boarding house in all of Queen's College, and Pam was grateful for her small room. It felt alien at first, lacking the comforts of home, but still, it was her own, and she rested comfortably on the bed for a few moments before unpacking. That helped a bit; with her clothes in the closet and her sketches on the desk, it felt a bit more like home.

She changed into a fresh shirtwaist with the inclination of taking a walk, and fortuitously, there was a knock on the door. Meredith, Angela and Katy piled in, greeting Pam as though they hadn't seen her just mere hours previously.

"Oh, dear, Pam, you haven't been crying, have you? Your face is all splotchy," said Katy, and Pam just smiled as kindly as she could. "I'm doing very well, Katy, just a slight head cold," she said, "Thanks for your concern."

"Pam, come along with us, we're going to walk to the Common," said Meredith, clutching her arm.

"Yes, college men are ever so much nicer to look at than old Avonlea boys," said Katy.

"I'm interested to learn about the student organizations and scholarship prizes," said Angela, ever the one to deflect talk of boys and men.

Pam agreed to go, and they set off toward the center of the Queen's campus. The sky was rolling with dark clouds; Pam thought wryly that she would have preferred this weather in the morning, when she felt upset.

"Goodness, you can always tell the freshies apart this first week. That girl's face looks positively like a beet!" said Katy. Next to Pam, Angela's face drained white. "Actually, " she said quietly," I think I'll be getting back. I need to rest."

There was a catch in her voice that neither Meredith nor Katy seemed to hear, but Pam looked questioningly at Angela. Angela gave her a small, sad smile and turned back toward her boarding house. Pam wondered what sort of secret Angela was keeping, and wondered if she herself looked like someone who had just broken Jim Blythe's heart three days previously. Would Meredith and Katy be able to see that on her face?

As though she could read Pam's thoughts, Katy suddenly slowed down and pointed. "Look, there's Jim Blythe. He certainly hasn't wasted any time," she said scornfully.

Feeling hollow, Pam looked ahead. It certainly was Jim, she could tell his lanky frame easily from everyone else's, and next to him, looking up and talking, was a girl with shining dark hair and olive skin. She was wearing a richly brocaded skirt and jacket that made Pam feel dull and dowdy in her brown tweed travelling suit and plain hat.

"Who is that?" asked Meredith and Katy answered at once. "That's Karen Stuart. Her family is big in oil, and she's summered at the White Sands Hotel before. She's living with a rich aunt and uncle here, so she doesn't have to live in a boarding house."

Pam's insides returned in the form of lead as she saw Jim and this Karen Stuart burst into laughter. It looked as though he had forgotten about her already. Her cheeks reddened as she realized that he was moving on and making other friends, ones who didn't look like a country bumpkin in homespun.

She couldn't bear to take one step closer to him, not if she couldn't talk with him in the old, bantering way they used to; too much had changed between them, and Pam couldn't face him right now, not with others around, especially beautiful, sophisticated ones who probably didn't sew their own clothes, or Katy Pye.

Miraculously, her brain was still working, and she feigned a sneezing fit into her handkerchief. "Girls, I think my wretched cold is acting up again. Phyllis told me to lie down with a hot water bottle, so I think I'll go do that," she said amid sneezes.

Katy Pye gave her an appraising look, complete with pursed lips as though she didn't believe Pam. "You seemed fine on the train," Katy said, and Meredith shot her a withering glance. "Leave her be, Katy, I see some cricket players up ahead.You know you love men in their cricket whites. Feel better, Pam!" said Meredith, pulling Katy away from Pam, who smiled gratefully.

Feeling the lightness of freedom, Pam headed back towards the boarding house. She turned south, however, when it became apparent that she couldn't bear the thought of sitting in her lonely little room. She headed for a green expanse that soon proved to be a beautiful park.

It was a comforting sight, trees and flowers and even a little stream, and Pam walked along it, not necessarily happy, but content that there was a slice of home so near her. She thought her room might be improved by some flowers, so she picked the wildflowers that grew along the stream and soon had an armful of blossoms.

She was so engrossed in her flower gathering that she hadn't noticed the sky growing darker, and it was only when thunder rumbled ominously and the first few spatters of an autumn rainstorm fell upon her did she look up. "Oh dear," she said to the flowers, and she began to walk as fast as she could, clutching her hat with one hand and trying not to lose any of her fragrant cargo.

Suddenly someone was next to her and the shadow of an umbrella covered her. "Here, let me help you," said the owner of the umbrella, and Pam peeked out from under her hat to see a young gentleman smiling down at her. He had brown hair and dark eyes that crinkled when he smiled, showing dimples in his cheeks.

"Oh, thank you," said Pam, keenly aware of how silly she must have looked. "I suppose I look ridiculous," she said lightly.

"Not at all, just in need of a good umbrella," said the young man, smiling again. "My name is Royal Gardner," he continued, transferring a large bundle from one arm to the other in an attempt to shake her hand.

"I'm Pamela Shirley," Pam answered, glancing involuntarily at the bundle. "My rugby uniform," he explained, "I'm trying to keep it dry."

"Well, I hope you're succeeding," said Pam, and Royal Gardner's dimples popped again.

"Please, won't you let me walk you to your home, Miss Shirley?" he asked, and Pam blushed. "Thank you, it's so kind of you, Mr. Gardner," she answered as they reached the edge of the park.

They walked a block in silence, Pam feeling nervous at not knowing what to say to a young man. She thought keenly that if it were Jim, she would have plenty to say. She pushed the thought back in her mind; Jim had spoken and she didn't agree, and their friendship was likely over. It was time to forget about him and move on. She smiled up at Royal Gardner as they crossed the cobbled street and was rewarded with one in return.

"This is my boarding house," she said, slowing down. "Ah, this is one of the very best in town," he said, "I live with my parents a few miles from here."

"It must have been interesting to live in a city," said Pam, and he nodded. "I enjoy it." He hesitated and then continued, "Miss Shirley, I don't mean to be forward, but I'd like to call on you if I may."

Pam blushed again. "You may," she said, and feeling bold, added, "I've never seen a rugby match before."

"Well, we'll have to change that," he said, dark eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Thank you for the use of the umbrella, Mr. Gardner, I do appreciate it," she said, and he held up a hand. "Please, do call me Roy. Mr. Gardner sounds like my father."

Pam laughed a Kelly-like laugh. "Then you must call me Pam," she said, and he tipped his hat.

"I shall, Pam. May I?" He indicated her bouquet, and when she nodded, he plucked a sprig and placed it in his buttonhole.

With one last smile, she entered the boarding house and hurried up the stairs. She thought she'd write a letter to Kelly, hugging her flowers to herself. How intriguing to meet a tall, dark stranger on the first day at college! She thought perhaps she might not be so miserable after all.

That autumn, Roy Gardner became a fixture in Pam's life. Her landlady allowed gentlemen callers for her 'girls', as she affectionately called them, twice during the week and once on Saturdays. The first visiting day, Roy called with a small bouquet for Pam and his hat in his hands, dimple flashing, and Pam walked him into the parlor.

The landlady, Mrs. Harrison, immediately took to him, as did Pam, for his charming disposition was very appealing. To think, he came to visit her! To be in the realm of grown-ups in which a young gentleman came calling to see her was quite a wonder.

At times, she could hardly believe she, Pam Shirley had a beau, and it took a heated discussion with Meredith to convince her that indeed, Roy was courting. Her friends approved of him; Meredith wholeheartedly, Katy a little too much for Pam's liking, and even Angela assented that he was a very nice young man.

Kelly wrote rapturous letters and Pam was swept into Kelly's romantic world. Of course, it was lovely to be able to write back with stories of her own, how Roy came to take her for walks, and he'd take her arm.

She didn't write to Kelly of the strange, lonely feeling she got when they caught a glimpse of Jim Blythe and that Karen Stuart around town. They were laughing and talking, and Pam had a flash of memory of their carefree friendship. Then she looked up at Roy and he grinned down at her, squeezing her arm lightly, and she pushed the memory of Jim far down in her mind.

The autumn months moved along and Pam was busy every day. Homework and Roy filled her life, and she relished it, for it left her too frenzied to be homesick. Phyllis wrote several times a week, and her letters were always steady and comforting, much like Phyllis herself. Mrs. Marjorie Lynde kept Pam awash in the town happenings, which Pam enjoyed, for Kelly's letters were full of Ryan and not much else.

The weekends slipped by, and Pam resigned herself to only a few short visits back to Avonlea. It was strange to be back in her old room, and a part of her missed her life at Queen's. A small part of her realized that her old haunts weren't the same because she was growing up, and an even smaller part knew that it was strange that Jim wasn't there, laughing and joking as he had done.

Roy made good on his promise to introduce her to the world of rugby, and delighted in explaining the finer points of the game. At the first match she attended, he smiled so much at her that it was a wonder he didn't get hurt more. He caught her eye after every spectacular move, and she tried very hard to follow the match and was proud when she was able to understand it.

After that, it was assumed that Pam would accompany Roy to every match that she could, and she was happy to support her beau. Sometimes, though, she thought she'd rather stay at home and study, but she couldn't stand the thought that Roy would be disappointed. He so loved that she cheered him on. She compromised with herself by slipping a book or two into her coat pocket and reading bits here and there.

One snapping November afternoon, Pam was yet again watching a rugby match, schoolbook on her lap. It was hard to turn the pages with her mittened hands, so her mind was wandering more than it ought. She was just about to attempt to read again when the girls plopped themselves next to her.

"Hi Pam!" said Meredith and Katy, and Angela echoed them quietly. She looked sad, so Pam quickly launched into Mrs. Lynde's latest news from Avonlea. "And Mr. Harrison painted his barn blue, not red, and she says the Schrudes have been so busy putting up the beets that not a one of them has time to go into town or even post a letter," she finished up. Meredith and Katy looked disinterested, but a look of relief passed over Angela's face for a shadow of a moment.

"Pam, come downtown with us," urged Meredith. "We're going to have coffee and walk through the square."

"We just might walk right past the French professor's house," giggled Katy, "And we're going to buy some fudge from the handsome boy at the confectioner's, too."

"Please do come, Pam," said Angela beseechingly, and Pam felt torn. "I'd love to go, but I promised Roy I'd watch the match," she said.

"Of course, the man always comes before the girls," teased Meredith, and Pam felt worse. "Honestly, it's not that," she protested, and Angela grabbed Meredith's arm "Leave her be," she said, and Katy tossed her newspaper down next to Pam.

"You can have it if you want, I only bought it for the society page," she said, and Pam picked it up. Newspapers were a rare luxury to her. It was much easier to hold than a book with her mittens, and she watched as her friends' brightly colored hats bobbed through the crowd.

She turned her attention back to the paper and read through everything. By the time Roy came bounding off the field, red-faced and smiling broadly, Pam was waiting anxiously next to her bench.

"Roy, look," she began, but he interrupted. "Did you see what Reynolds and Harlan tried to pull on me?" he asked jubilantly, gathering his belongings together.

"What? Oh, yes, that was tricky," Pam replied, still clutching the paper. "Roy-"

"Well I showed them, didn't I? I can't believe they thought they could pass our ruck," he continued, a swagger in his step. "And did you see the two dropped goals I scored? Larrabee tried for it, but I was actually able to do it," he continued, and Pam smiled at him.

"That was fun to watch," she admitted. "You're my good luck charm," Roy said, smiling down at her, and heat bloomed in her cheeks.

"Roy, just look at what I found. There's an advertisement for a new art gallery that's offering an art class every Saturday afternoon!" she said, fairly bouncing in an undignified way. "I thought it might be fun to try, though I doubt I'm good enough."

"Every Saturday? But that's when I play rugby," he said, and there was a pronounced note of disappointment in his voice. "What will I do without my good luck charm? Can't you do art another time?" 

He looked so very like a sad little puppy that Pam relented. "I guess you're right," she said, "I can always draw on my own, I don't need a class to do it in."  Roy's dimple popped out and he threaded her arm around his. "Besides, all the fellows think I'm lucky to have such a cute girl as my cheer leader," he said, tweaking her blue tam and making her blush.

"You don't need anyone to tell you how to draw, and what would you do if there were others better than you?" he asked, "Of course, you'd be the best."

He patted her arm, and she ignored the small twinge of lost opportunity.  She valued Roy's opinion and was proud that he thought so highly of her. She pushed the art classes aside in her mind and smiled up at her beau.  It was true that she might not be the best, but a small part of her regretted that she might never find out.    

 Before she even realized what was happening, the world was soon blanketed in snow, and Pam's first semester at college was nearly finished. She prepared for her exams in any spare moments she had, which Roy grumbled about a little, but he was proud that she was doing so well, and she knew he didn't really mind. Her art supplies gathered dust in a corner of her bedroom, and she often assured herself that she'd have more time next term to draw and paint.

One Sunday afternoon, she was wrapped in a quilt and sitting at her little desk, which she had moved next to the stovepipe. Her geometry book was propped against the vase of Roy's latest bouquet. Geometry had once been the bane of her existence, but then she began to see the patterns and art in it, which sounded silly. Roy had laughed and tweaked her nose when she tried to describe the beauty of geometry, but she found that she didn't mind studying it any more.

There was a knock at her door, and she bade the knocker to enter; she turned as Meredith and Katy Pye stumbled in, apple-cheeked and breathless. "Hello, Nose-to-the-Grindstone Shirley!" cried Katy, removing her tam and shaking out her perfectly smooth auburn curls.

"Pam, have you heard? There's going to be a Christmas Ball right after term ends," said Meredith excitedly. "There'll be an orchestra and punch, too!"

Geometry was instantly forgotten. "I hadn't heard," said Pam, heat rushing into her cheeks. "I hope I'll get to go."

Katy rolled her eyes. "Stop being so coy, Pam, you know Roy is going to ask you. But you'd better make him ask you quickly, because Toby Sloane told Angus Fisher that he wanted to invite you. Toby never does get the hint, does he?"

Pam's mind was still reeling with thoughts of the ball. If Roy did indeed invite her, she could wear her blue gown, which had been hanging in the cupboard all semester. She could wear her hair up and wear the beautiful necklace of pearls Bob and Phyllis had given her for Christmas last.

"-Jim Blythe has already asked Karen Stuart," said Katy, and Pam snapped back to the conversation. "And I just can't decide between Alec and Alonzo, they're both perfectly silly about me," finished Katy.

"Well, I've made a promise with one of the boys that we'd go to the first dance together, only now I can't remember who it was!" laughed Meredith, and Katy giggled. "I'm wearing my green silk," she said, "Pam, show us your blue dress again."

Thus the conversation turned from boys to clothes, and Pam heard no more about Jim Blythe. Not that it mattered what he was doing or whom he was keeping company with, Pam thought he was doing just fine without her friendship. She just wished she could have one of their old jaunts and talks every once in awhile. She busied herself showing the girls her blue dress and thought no more about it.

*

It soon transpired that Kelly would be permitted to come to the dance as well, as long as she stayed the night with her aunt Josephine, rather than in Pam's boarding house. "But you'll stay with Aunt Jo as well, I'll need you there with me!" she wrote.

Ryan would be escorting Kelly to the ball, and the letters fairly flew between Queen's and Avonlea for the next few weeks.

Angela refused to entertain the thought of the ball; when asked about it, all she would say was "Oh, Dee," through her tears. Katy and Meredith tried to figure out who Dee could be; they were stuck between Donald Finnegan and Daniel Fowler. Pam had her suspicions, but she never voiced them.

The very day after she found out about the ball, Roy asked her to go, or rather, he asked what time he should pick her up in his buggy and what color her dress was. This meant flowers, Pam knew, and she could hardly believe she was adult enough to attend a real ball. This would be no country dance next to a barn; this would be a real Event in her life.

It proved to be a challenge to concentrate on studies and not let her mind wander to frivolous things, but Pam managed to study hard, and after her final exam was over, she felt a sigh of relief was over her body. She had done well, she knew it, and she carried an extra spring in her step as she went to meet Kelly's train.

It was a lovely reunion; both girls hugged and nearly wept, as they had seen each other only twice all term. Pam couldn't describe how nice it was to have a vestige of her Avonlea life in the flesh with her, bringing the comforts of home. She would accompany Kelly home tomorrow and have four glorious weeks in Avonlea for the holidays.

It soon purported that Aunt Josephine was a wonderful hostess; she took a great interest in their plans for hair and dress, pausing before she left the room to say, "Ah, to be young again and going to a ball!"

"I always remembered her as being an old crab apple," said Kelly, shrugging and fluffing her gown. "Here, Pam, can you fix the back of my pompadour? It's not pomping just right."

The girls soon made it to the parlor, pink-cheeked and nervous. Pam was afraid someone would point out that they were really just two little girls playing dress-up, and Kelly shrieked in mock indignation. She quieted down as they entered the parlor, where Roy and Ryan were waiting, flowers in hand.

Pam accepted Roy's roses of the vividest red, and slid one in her hair. As she pinned one on her dress, she wondered if she looked ridiculous and overdone. Roses were so showy, and Pam's mind conjured up a memory of a summer's walk with Jim Blythe, Pam's arms full of delicate June lilies. Those suited her much more, she thought, but instantly reminded herself that Roy was very kind to give her roses. She smiled up at him and he looked delighted that she was so happy.

They endured the snapping cold to ride in the buggy, and Pam got the feeling again that she was just a little girl playing grown-up as Roy helped her alight from the buggy. Inside the hotel, the atmosphere was warm and bright, and the Ladies' Aid had done a lovely job decorating with evergreens and ribbons.

Pam and Kelly received their dance cards, and Roy took as many as was proper on Pam's. Ryan took one, and Toby nervously asked her for one as well. She strung the ribbon around her wrist, letting it dangle next to her hand. Katy and Meredith came bustling over just as Pam spotted Jim Blythe walking in with Karen Stuart. Karen looked lovely in a dark red dress, which suited the rich tones in her skin and hair. She also carried herself with an air that Pam knew she herself could never achieve.

The girls excused themselves, herding into the powder room together. Katy ran a handkerchief over the bridge of her nose and pinched her cheeks. "That Karen Stuart looks as vain as a peacock, strutting next to Jim Blythe," she said.

"I think she looks nice, but you know, Pam, I always thought you and Jim would make a pair someday," said Meredith, sipping her punch.

"Don't be silly, Meredith. Jim goes for the pretty, flashy girls, not quiet ones like Pam," said Katy, quite unaware of the slight against Pam. Unfortunately, the remark still rankled Pam's skin.

"Pam could make Jim Blythe dance with her just like that," said Kelly, snapping her fingers and coming to Pam's rescue.

"I'd like to see that! They haven't spoken all term," said Katy, shooting Pam a disdainful look. Pam squared her shoulders and looked at Katy. "Just you watch then," she said, and Kelly gave her an encouraging smile.

The girls left the powder room in a cluster, and Pam saw Jim standing like a tree on the other side of the room. "Go on, unless you're too cowardly," whispered Katy, watching Jim and poking Pam in the back. Pam hesitated and Katy poked her again. "She's not too cowardly," said Kelly, and she grabbed Pam's hand and dragged her away. Pam looked back at Meredith and Katy; Meredith gave her an encouraging smile and Katy just looked skeptical.

"Come on, " hissed Kelly, and Pam had no choice but to follow her. As they approached Jim, Pam put on what she felt was a becoming, beckoning smile and was very surprised when Jim seemed to see right past her. She tried to catch his eye, but it was focused beyond her.

He made no notice of them until they were right next to him. Pam cleared her throat just a tiny bit, and Jim turned to them. "Kelly! How wonderful to see you again," he said, grasping Kelly's hand warmly. "Did you come up from Avonlea for the night? You must give me a dance later. If you'll excuse me."

He smiled at Kelly once more and moved quickly out of the room. Pam was stung. Kelly slipped her arm sympathetically around her waist as Roy moved toward them. Pam had only seconds to rearrange her face into a pleasant expression, and she smiled warmly up at Roy as he took her hand for their first dance.

He was a good dancer, not as light on his feet as she remembered Jim being, but he was a strong leader and seemed to be enjoying himself. They waltzed and two-stepped, and Pam was relieved when Roy excused himself to the washroom. She fanned herself with her dance card and decided to get a bit of air. She waved at Kelly, who was blissfully whirling in Ryan's arms.

She walked out onto the veranda, relishing the cold air on her face and arms. She puffed her breath, making smoke, which reminded her of Bob's pipe, making her homesick and excited at the prospect of going home. She wasn't looking as she moved over to the porch railing and realized she was not the only one out there.

"Jim," she said, surprised, before she could think, setting her dance card on the railing. He looked at her, startled. "Pam, hello. Er, how are you?" he said, not quite meeting her eye.

"I'm doing well, thank you," said Pam, and she hated the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. She missed their old, easy banter, and she was suddenly tired of this sudden strangeness. Before she could stop herself, she found herself asking, 'Why didn't you say hello to me inside?"

He looked in her eyes for the first time that night, for the first time in months, in fact. "Please. I knew what was going on with you and the other girls. I wanted the first time we spoke again to be because you wanted to, not because Katy Pye dared you to," he said, a small smile playing on his face, and Pam blushed. "How did you know?" she asked.

Jim shook his head. "I know Katy Pye," he said simply, and Pam nodded. "How do you like school?" she asked, not knowing what else to say and wanting to change the subject from Katy Pye's unfortunate habit of daring.

"I like it well enough, though it's strange to have professors who aren't Mr. Scott," said Jim, and Pam smiled. "I do miss him sometimes, though I'm relieved at not being called Pamelangelo every day," she said.

"How is your artwork?" asked Jim, "Have you drawn anything new lately?"

Pam looked down at the veranda floor. Snow had blown in and she could see their footprints. "I haven't had time, really," she said.

"Oh," he said, and something in his tone made her want to confess more. "There's an art class every Saturday at the art gallery downtown," she said.

"Really? That's wonderful! I think you should do it," he said instantly, giving her an encouraging smile.

She felt shy again. "I've thought about it, but I'm busy with my studies, and Roy thinks it's silly. He likes me at the rugby matches," she said, not thinking, and then she looked at Jim with wide eyes.

"Roy said that?" Jim asked, frowning.

"He's right, I doubt I'd be as good as anyone else, and it's just a hobby of mine, nothing serious," she said, wanting to wipe that look from his face.

He sighed. "You've got to try sometimes, Pam. You'll never know what might happen until you do."

She was slightly irritated by his tone. Who was he to tell her what to do, when he hadn't deigned to speak to her in months?

"What's it like beauing around the most beautiful girl at the ball?" she asked, lifting her chin to meet his eyeline.

He said nothing, simply held her gaze for a long while, and she couldn't bring herself to break it. He opened his mouth as though to speak, but closed it again, and she shivered. "I'm cold," she said, teeth chattering, and he smiled sadly at her as she walked back into the hotel.

"Good night," he said, and she nodded at him, ducking inside. "Good night, Jim." She never did see where her dance card disappeared to as he slipped it into his pocket, and she never missed it.

Once inside, she found herself swept into Roy's arms. "There's my best girl," he said, and Pam turned her attention back to her handsome beau and tried to forget the unpleasantness of the previous moments. This proved to be unsuccessful, and it weighed on her mind for the rest of the dance.

In the buggy on the way back to Miss Josephine Barry's home, Pam broached the subject of art classes with Roy once more. "Roy, I thought perhaps I'd try those art classes on Saturdays next term," she said, and he looked sad.

"Aw, Pam, the ice hockey team starts next term, and I was looking forward to having you at the games. The fellows call you "Good Luck Shirley" and it's fun to have you watch," he said, alighting from the buggy and helping her down. 

"I know, I like watching, but I think I'd like to try out the classes," she said, almost firmly.

"All right. It sounds awful to be cooped up inside on the weekend, but promise me you'll skip a few classes to watch some of the games; we have to have the cutest cheer leader there sometimes," Roy answered, tweaking her nose a bit.

Pam didn't say anything; Roy was looking down at her and smiling nervously, and before she knew what was happening, he drew her close to him and kissed her. He drew away and she felt her face get hot. "Merry Christmas, Pam," he said, squeezing her hands. "Merry Christmas," she said, and he climbed back into the buggy, smiling.

Kelly grabbed her arm and dragged her inside. "Pam! He kissed you! How was it? Isn't it lovely to be in love?" she squealed, and Pam laughed at her. "It happened so fast, but it was lovely," she said.

Truthfully, all that had registered at the moment was that his lips were slightly scratchy, but now she realized the magnitude of what had happened. Of course, Kelly was right, it was lovely to be in love.

They undressed and climbed into bed in Aunt Josephine's spare room, and Kelly giggled when she blew out the candle. "You'll have sweet dreams tonight," she said, and Pam smiled into her pillow.

She drifted off to sleep thinking of how it felt to be dancing in Roy's strong arms, and of course, the kiss, but her dreams that night were full of June lilies, paintbrushes, and Jim. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, none of these images remained as she awoke, and she never realized they had been there.  

 Pam had her refreshing holiday at Green Gables and returned to Queen's the following term with a fresh mind, bolstered by Roy's adoration and the anticipation of art classes, she plunged into university life once more.  

Her art classes soon became the highlight of her week; the opportunity to sit in a room and draw and paint in blissful abandon was a great comfort to her. She learned more about perspective and shading, and soon the world became a color palette in her eyes.

She longed to tell someone about her work, and her friends listened politely, but it didn't pique their interests as it did to her. She knew precisely with whom she'd love to discuss it, but she was fully aware that their friendship was beyond repair.  

She settled upon writing letters to Phyllis and Kelly, but as dear as they were, they didn't always understand the artistic side of her, the ability to see beauty and substance in a teacup, an old shoe dropped carelessly in the gutter, the flutter of a curtain.

"Very well done, Miss Shirley," said her teacher one day as she showed him a series of sketches. "I'm pleased to see that you aren't thinking on too grand of a scale and are finding things in your own world to work with; this is an important skill." 

Her imaginary world of Averil and her ilk still occupied a corner of her mind; occasionally she indulged it, yet familiarity crept in to the drawings and they seemed infused with life. With this realization, she finally understood what Jim had tried to put into words all those months ago, and she ached to thank him.

She rarely saw him anymore; her art classes and studies kept her sequestered for most of the week, and her outings with Roy mainly took them to the athletic fields or to the park in which they had met. They walked hand-in-hand, and people smiled when they saw them.  

"Pam, it's all over campus that Roy is simply smitten," said Meredith one Sunday afternoon. Pam blushed.

"Look at her, she's as smitten as he is!" cried Katy, and even Angela smiled. "I'll bet he proposes, he's certainly ready. I heard from Jennie Allen that Edwin Clark says that Roy was in the jewelers' shop, looking at diamonds!" said Katy, and Pam's heart seemed to beat more quickly.  

The next time Roy came for a walk, she studied him intently. She loved how strong his hand was on hers, loved the way his face lit up when he saw her. She admired the passion with which he spoke of his sports and other endeavors and felt proud when he succeeded. And when their evenings ended, his goodbye kisses were tender and sweet.  

"Pam, how did you know you were in love with Roy?" asked Angela one spring afternoon, when the ground was thawing and new life was peeking through the gray and brown. The two friends were taking a much-needed break from studying; they both were intent on getting their teaching certificates in one year, rather than two. Katy and Meredith didn't share their desire or drive, and as Katy reminded them, "My father can afford to send me again." 

"Goodness, I don't know," said Pam. "It just...happened." Angela looked concerned. "How did you feel?" she asked, and Pam furrowed her brow. "I get a funny feeling in my middle when he smiles at me, and I like when we take walks and he kisses me goodnight, and it's just...comfortable." 

Angela nodded. "My...friend Noelle thinks she may be in love with a young man that she corresponds with, from her home town."

Pam nodded. "How lovely for your friend. I hope he's a wonderful boy," she said, and Angela's face pinked. "He's simply lovely. Noelle thinks very highly of him and his principles." Pam smiled and said nothing else on the subject.

Angela's queries lingered in Pam's mind for the next several weeks. She couldn't think of any other way to describe love but as just a comfort. Roy was so steady and strong, and it was true that being in love didn't carry the same zest she had imagined it to, but not everything could be as wonderful as she had imagined it. Roy was a dependable man and would take good care of her.  

Every time he called on her, she felt her stomach flip just a bit, wondering if tonight would be the night. She always took care that her hair and dress looked pleasing for the occasion, just in case. Still, the question never came, and she began to feel anxious. Was she doomed to be an old maid?  

She refused to neglect her studies, though, even with this prospect looming ahead, and she was rewarded at examination time. She felt certain that she had done well enough to pass, and felt that she had truly accomplished something to be proud of.  

That evening found her packing her trunk in preparation for her move back to Green Gables and looking forward to telling Bob and Phyllis all about the examination. Not surprisingly, Roy came to call for her, and Pam came down the stairs to the parlor, smiling nervously.

"He's a lovely young man," whispered Mrs. Griffin excitedly as she saw them to the door. Pam blushed, and was glad that she had pressed her pink dress.

Roy guided her toward the park, and they silently walked hand-in-hand. Pam's hand felt small in Roy's large one, and she smiled shyly at him when their glances met. Roy spoke first, and Pam's heart beat wildly when she realized that they were standing where they had first met, all those months ago.  

"Pam," he said, turning toward her and taking both of her hands in his, "I wanted to bring you here to tell you how very much I love you and to ask you to be my wife. I've got it all settled with Father, he's making me a partner in the business, and we can have a house here in town and you won't have to teach, my darling. I would be the happiest man in the world if you'll say yes. Will you marry me?" 

He pulled a shining diamond ring out of his pocket. It caught the glint of the setting sun and sparkled. Pam's breath caught in her throat, and as she opened her mouth, images began to flash in her mind: a house with a tiny garden, getting Roy's supper every night, spending every evening in a parlor and talking of rugby.

"I....can't!" she said wildly, and tears began to spill from her eyes. She felt it in an illuminating instant that she could never marry Roy, would never be happy or content to be his wife.  

"What do you mean?" he asked, disbelief and apprehension in his voice. Pam struggled for words through her tears. "I thought I could, but I can't!"  

Now Roy looked upset. "You've just been amusing yourself all these months?" he asked, a tinge of anger in his tone.  

"Truly, I haven't," Pam said, crying, "I thought I was in love with you, but I realize now that I was fooling myself." 

"But why?" asked Roy, anger and sadness present on his face, and she was ashamed for him of his naked emotion and despised herself for bringing it upon him. 

"I just...I want to teach, and I want to live in the country and we're just not...right together," Pam tried to explain, the words tumbling from her mouth. How could she explain it? She couldn't even articulate it in her own mind.

"You can give me no hope?" he asked, and Pam shook her head. "Then you're not the girl I thought you were. Goodbye, Pam," he said, and turning on his heel, he vanished into the twilight.  

She watched his broad shoulders grow smaller as he moved further away, and felt a desperate sadness. She had never meant to hurt him, she had always had the best intentions, but she simply could not be his wife. She moved through the dusk toward her boarding house, sobbing into a handkerchief.

A pale and subdued Pam caught the first train home to Avonlea the next day. Angela accompanied her, to which Pam was profoundly thankful. Angela was so steady and calm that she made an ideal travel companion for a flustered and emotionally drained Pam.

Pam was fervently glad that Angela didn't pry; Pam sketched out in words the larger details, and Angela merely nodded. "If it isn't right, then it isn't right, Pam," she said. "You shouldn't do anything your heart doesn't tell you to."

Pam appreciated the sentiment; coming from staid, sensible Angela, this carried extra weight. She didn't speak much on the train, and even dozed for a few moments; her previous night's sleep had been fitful.  

She was utterly relieved when they arrived at the Avonlea depot and Dwighde Schrude was there with his pony and his buggy to take them home. Pam hadn't thought to cable ahead to Phyllis and Bob, and now Dwighde would render that unnecessary. Through the fatigue that had beset her, she smiled wanly at the fact that this was the first time she had ever been excited to see Dwighde Schrude.  

The smiles of reunion that Angela and Dwighde exchanged made Pam think of Roy's easy grin; guilt bubbled up inside her, and a few tears escaped. She knew now that she mourned what she had done to him, how she had utterly hurt him. She knew she didn't love him as he deserved to be loved, and that he was a good man, just not her man.  

Dwighde solemnly produced a handkerchief and passed it to her, and the trio drove along the roads in silence, which Pam appreciated. She mopped her face and straightened her hat as they approached the Green Gables gate.

Phyllis rushed out of the house, wiping her hands on her calico apron, and Pam jumped from the buggy to hug her. Immediately, she began to cry again, and she sobbed the story out, her guilt and sorrow at hurting Roy pouring from her.  

Dwighde and Angela simply unloaded Pam's trunk and left quietly, and soon Pam was ensconced in her gabled bedroom. She talked out the ordeal with Phyllis, and was gratified that Phyllis heartily agreed with her choice. "I wouldn't want you to settle for less than you feel," she said, and Pam was so relieved, having thought for a wild instant that Phyllis might scold her for toying with Roy's heart.  

She spent the rest of the day in bed, resting, and found that when she awoke, she felt happier and calmer. Just being back in Avonlea had reminded her that life was moving on, and that breaking poor Roy's heart was not going to be the end of her existence. She still felt a pang of guilt, but she was relieved that she could see things more clearly now.

He would do well; he would find a girl who adored him as he deserved to be adored, and Pam would teach. The teacher at the neighboring Lowbridge district was retiring, and she thought she'd apply for that school.  She could live at Green Gables, and she was happy with the thought.  

The next day, Kelly rushed up to Pam's bedroom and enveloped her in a hug. When Pam spotted the modest circle of gold on Kelly's finger, she cried out in surprise. "Why didn't you tell me?" she said, flushed with happiness. "It just happened, and I wanted to tell you in person, not through a letter," said Kelly happily.  

Pam watched her friend's face as Kelly described the magical moment and thought that that truly was love, the look that was on Kelly's face. She seemed lit up from within, and her pure joy seemed to exude from her eyes and smile. With each passing moment, Pam saw what she had felt for Roy wasn't true love. He had been a dear friend, but he had never made her feel what Kelly felt for Ryan Wright.  

She found it quite easy to tell Kelly what had happened, and Kelly was the perfect friend. "Of course you couldn't marry him, he wasn't right for you," she said, slipping an arm around Pam's shoulder. It made Pam feel much better to know that the folks most dear to her felt that she had done the right thing.   

"Promise me you'll save your spare bedroom for Old Aunt Pam, the charming spinster," joked Pam, and Kelly laughed.  "Silly goose, your tall dark stranger is out there somewhere," she said, squeezing Pam affectionately, and the two went down for tea with Phyllis and Mrs. Marjorie Lynde. The latter made Pam feel better by stating, "It's well enough you didn't marry that boy, Pam. An Avonlea boy would suit you much better; you never know what you'll get with city boys."

Pam smiled a little sadly. "Roy was a lovely young man, Mrs. Lynde, he just wasn't the right person for me," she explained, and Phyllis smiled indulgently. "There's precious few who are good enough for our Pam," she said proudly.   

* 

Over the next several weeks, Pam slipped comfortably back into the small world of Green Gables. Since arriving there years before, she had not appreciated the small pleasures of domestic life as much as she did now. She helped Phyllis in the kitchen and took it upon herself to prepare many meals on her own, letting Phyllis have a rest. She worked in the barns and fields with Bob, reveling in the satisfaction of hard, manual work 

On the afternoon that her exam results were due to arrive in the post nearly a month after she had arrived home, Pam decided to walk into town. She had so far avoided it, not really wishing to see Katy Pye or any of the others from school, wondering what Roy must have told people. Her urge to get the mail won out, and she headed down the muddy road, stopping by the Barry house only to find that Kelly was already in town. 

Pam hurried her way to the post office and emerged triumphantly with two letters addressed to herself, one from her art teacher and the other, an official looking one from the college. She clattered down the wooden steps as she opened the envelope from Queens.

She scurried over to the general store where Kelly was standing in a motley collection comprising of Kelly, Mrs. Lynde, the Widow Gould and Mr. Scott. She walked over to them, beaming as she pulled out the paper within. She held it up as they turned to her, and said, "I passed! I'm a teacher!"  

The Widow Gould and Mrs. Lynde congratulated her warmly and Kelly jumped up and down, squealing and clapping her hands. "I just knew you would!" she cried, and Mr. Scott made a mock-indignant face. "I'd better watch out for the competition, she'll steal the job out from under me!" he said, and Pam didn't even mind one bit.  

"I hope everyone else did well," she said, hoping Angela had gotten her certificate, too, knowing that she had her heart set on getting the Markdale school in the fall.  "I'm sure they did," said the optimistic Kelly, and Pam smiled.   

"Say, Pam, did you hear that Jim Blythe is dying?" said Mr. Scott, and in an instant, Pam's world drained of color, sound and everything else. Her heart thudded in her chest, her stomach dropped, and she couldn't move or speak.

"Michael Scott, hold your tongue!" scolded the Widow Gould, but Pam hardly heard her.  "Pam, don't look like that!" said Mrs. Lynde, a note of anguish in her voice. "We didn't want to tell you this way," said Kelly timidly, and it was the sadness in her friend's voice that brought her back to thought and reality. She looked at Kelly blankly.

"He came down with the scarlet fever," said Mrs. Lynde gently. "The doctor said he's pretty bad off,” said Mr. Scott, and Pam couldn't listen to another word.

She turned and fled back toward Green Gables, down the muddy roads, splattering herself with muck and not caring, ignoring Kelly's calls, for her mind was whirling around only one thought.   

She was dimly aware of reaching Green Gables; her feet took her up the stairs and into her bedroom where she sat numbly on the bed. The only sound was her own heavy, unsteady breathing and the house, which creaked almost sorrowfully around her. And Jim was dying!  

There are moments of unyielding clarity that color every person's life, and Pam read her Book of Revelations at that moment. She loved Jim, had loved him from the very moment he had winked at her at the Sunday School picnic. She had been too foolish or perhaps too afraid to find it within herself to realize that, and the grief she felt over the very real possibility of losing him forever tore at her heart. She now knew that she had never loved Roy; she had been flattered by his attentions but had never felt a fraction of what she was feeling right now. Jim had loved her not just for who she was, but for who she wanted to be, and she had broken his heart.

The thought that he might leave this earth without ever knowing the truth of her feelings was too much to bear, and she sobbed herself into a troubled, restless sleep.  

She was partially conscious of the fact that Phyllis came in several times to bathe her face with a cool cloth, and when Pam tried to speak through her tears, Phyllis merely soothed her, saying "I know, dearest, you don't have to tell me. Just rest, now."  The fact that she would not need to put into words what she felt was minutely comforting, and her mind was allowed to drift into sleep.   

The next morning, she awoke feeling as though she hadn't slept at all. Her body felt beaten, bruised, and her grief was so raw and terrifying that she found she could not cry another tear.

She felt dazed; she glanced around her room as though seeing it for the first time. Phyllis had left a tray of food, but Pam couldn't fathom eating. It would choke her like sawdust, she thought. For the first time in her young life, she thought that dying might not be so bad, for she could be with Jim and her parents. 

This thought horrified her; she stood on unsteady legs, not knowing where she should go. She saw that Phyllis had set on her desk her hat and the letter from her art teacher, which she had no recollection of dropping. She picked up the mud-flecked envelope, not really caring what was within but needing something to occupy her mind for a moment, feeling that she teetered on the brink of madness.  

She slit the envelope, breaking the wax seal, and drew out a letter. A newspaper fell out onto the floor, and Pam picked it up.  She read and reread the letter, and heat bloomed in her cheeks, but she couldn't find it in herself to be joyful. Instead, the tears fell hard and fast as though unblocked, and she cried for the one person with whom she wanted to share this news.  

A sound broke the silence that weighed upon her, and she glanced out the window to see the Blythes' hired hand walking down the road, coming from the direction of the Blythes' farm.

Pam thought that this must certainly be a sign from above, and there was no other thought in her mind as she broke from her stupor to race down the stairs and out of the house.  

"Jerry!" she cried, clutching the newspaper and running up to him. Jerry Buote stopped and waited for her. "Is- How is Jim?" she asked tremulously, and the sight of Jerry's smile was something Pam would never forget.

"He got the turn last night, doctor says. He may just pull through."  

Pam's breath caught as hope curled itself around her heart and she could scarcely breathe steadily as she held out the newspaper. "Could you give this to him?" she asked, and Jerry's smile widened. "Why don't you give it to him yourself, miss. He isn't contagious anymore, and it might do him good to have a visitor." 

Pam nodded and turned to dash back down the road. "Thank you!" she called over his shoulder, and Jerry Buote smiled and shook his head, reflecting on the fact that it was her name, and not anyone else's that young Mr. Blythe had been moaning in his unconscious stupor of the previous days and weeks.  

At the Blythe home, Pam wondered nervously if Mrs. Blythe knew what kind of torment Pam had put Jim through; she was relieved when a tired but peaceful Mrs. Blythe opened the door, smiling at her.  She led Pam upstairs and left her in front of Jim's bedroom door. Pam hesitated and entered.  

Jim was lying in bed, looking dreadfully pale and thin, and Pam moved slowly to his side. He seemed to be asleep, but his eyelids fluttered when she sat down in the chair next to the bed. "Hello, Jim," she whispered, and his lips moved in a silent version of her name.

"I've come to see if you wanted to go on one of our rambles,” she said, trying to keep her tone light. "Perhaps we could perform a work of Sir Scarn or maybe you could rescue me from my sinking boat."

A cough of laughter rumbled from Jim, and he seemed to smile. "I just- I wanted to show you this, too," said Pam, and she held up her newspaper.

"My art teacher sent me a letter saying that he gave one of my drawings to the editor of the Children's Corner, and they used it for a story. It's just a quick sketch I did of Meredith, Kelly, and Angela down by the pond, but Jim, they printed it and the editor wants me to illustrate a story each week."  

"Jim, it's all because of you. You pushed me to do what I was too afraid to do, and I can't even begin to thank you for that. You'll never know how much you did for me." She hesitated.  

"I turned down Roy's engagement ring. I couldn't do it. There were so many reasons not to, but the biggest reason was you. You were my best friend before we left for college, and this year has been horrible. I- I miss you, Jim. I never knew what a guiding light you were until I didn't have you, and I know I've been terribly wrong about some things. Jim, I-" 

She broke off, catching the words in her throat. "I shouldn't even be saying all of this, you're Karen Stuart's beau and I shouldn't be saying such things. I just needed you to know how much I miss you and to thank you for seeing things in me that no one else could see." 

She was silent for a moment, and then Jim's voice rasped from his pillow. "No Karen."

Pam inched closer. "What?" she asked, not letting herself understand and fervently hoping she had heard him correctly.  

He cleared his throat and his words came a little clearer. "Broke it off with Karen. Not fair to her." He took a shaking breath. "There could never be anyone for me but you, Pam." 

Pam's eyes filled with tears as she took his warm hand and pressed it to her lips. Jim's eyes were closed, but the corners of his mouth pulled into a slow, sad smile, and he drifted back to sleep, breathing quietly and steadily.

"You must get well soon, please, Jim," she whispered into his ear before letting go of his hand, not knowing if he could hear her in sleep.  

She left the newspaper on his bedside table and crept down the stairs. She thanked Mrs. Blythe and left hastily.

She walked back towards Green Gables with a purpose. She felt unburdened, light almost.  Calmness pervaded her, and she thought that no matter what happened, she had done the right thing. She was certain Jim would pull through, an optimism she had so far refused to let herself feel. 

Back in her room, she sat at her easel and skimmed the newspaper story she was to illustrate. She smiled. It was a fairy story, and pencil in hand, her mind traveled back several years. Little Sasha Sloane's face appeared as the little fairy. A princess who looked like Kelly gazed rapturously out at her, and then a solitary tear fell as she drew a tall, lanky handsome prince with tousled hair and a wide, delighted smile.  

Yes, it was the right thing indeed.  

Spring bloomed into summer, and Jim began to recover, slowly but surely. Pam visited him here and there, and their visits were always lighthearted, never touching on anything serious. She kept him abreast of town gossip, teasing him that he thought he knew everything when he confided that he suspected Dwighde Schrude wrote Angela a letter. She smiled and told him that they had been corresponding for the entire year, and the look on Jim's face made her laugh.

Several times a week, she jotted him a note or postcard, sometimes enclosing one of her illustrations or a sketch or even just an amusing newspaper article. She knew he appreciated any bit of distraction; lying in bed in his darkened bedroom was trying for him, though he didn't have the strength to do much else.

Though she was truly delighted that their friendship had regained momentum, it paled in comparison to what she wished would be. She found herself unsatisfied with the status quo; she wanted more than just a happy comradeship but could not express it. Sometimes she thought she saw a glimpse of the same desire behind Jim's eyes, and of course he had mentioned that he had broken off with Karen, but she still doubted what his intentions might be. She tried to make her actions speak what she could not, but they came out maddeningly friend-like.

Still, she found herself happier than she had been in a whole year, and Phyllis and Bob liked the change. Bob remarked that Pam had regained a spring in her step, and Phyllis smiled indulgently."I think a certain young man has something to do with that," she said, and Bob looked alarmed. "Now, now, she's growing up," reassured Phyllis, patting him on the arm.

"I can't help but miss the little girl," Bob said, slipping his arm around Phyllis's shoulders.

"I miss the child, too, but the young lady in her place is lovely," replied Phyllis, smiling at her husband.

It was this tableau that Pam stumbled upon on her way to town, and she smiled shyly as she picked up a basket in which to put her wares. Witnessing little moments of pure love warmed her heart and made her yearn all the more for Jim to recover completely, in secret hopes that someday they too might look at each other like this.

She swung her basket to and fro as she made her way to the general store. She stopped short of the dusty steps leading into it, nearly dropping her basket. A tall figure was walking slowly towards her, a hint of a limp in his step. "Jim!" she said, surprised and delighted. "What are you doing?"

"Hello, Pam," he said, reaching her and smiling at her. "The doctor said I can get up and walk around as long as I don't overexert myself."

"You walked all the way from home?" Pam asked, surprised. It was only a mile and a half to the Blythe farm, but in Jim's weakened state, it would be quite a feat.

"Are you impressed?" he asked, grinning. Pam nodded as Jim's father pulled up in the wagon. "Ready, Jim?" he asked, tipping his cap to Pam, who gave Jim a mischievous smile.

"I'm not impressed any more now that I know the horse was doing all the walking," she said, and Jim laughed. Then a serious look passed over his face, and Pam wondered if she had perhaps said the wrong thing. Perhaps Jim didn't like to be teased about his illness. When would she learn to hold her tongue?

"Pam, I- would you be available to go on a picnic this evening?" he asked, and Pam clutched her basket to her.

"Yes," she said, more loudly than she intended to, and Jim's smile was infinitely rewarding. He nodded.

"I'll see you at six then," he said, and swung himself up onto the wagon beside his father who, Pam noticed, patted his knee as they drove away.

She stood, dazed for a moment, and a smile crept over her face. She couldn't even remember why she had come to the general store, and walked slowly up the steps. She dimly recollected the items Phyllis needed, and made the transactions with Mr. Lawson without even realizing what she was doing.

Her mind was occupied elsewhere, namely with the thought that Jim was intending to come calling. She could scarcely think of the implications of this momentous event. He had never made a date to call on her at Green Gables, not formally like this, and it was happening after she had broken off with Roy and he with Karen, and he must know how she felt, shouldn't he?

These thoughts whirled like a dervish as she lugged her parcels home to Green Gables. Phyllis received her with a startled look at the contents of the basket. "Twenty pounds of brown sugar? A single potato?" she asked.

"It's a potato, I brought it from the store," said Pam, thoughts now upstairs in her dress cupboard. "I'll have to iron it straightway."

"Pardon?" asked Phyllis, suspecting that she might not have the entire story. "Iron the potato?"

"Oh dear, I mean my blue dress!" said Pam, finally cottoning on and smiling. "Phyllis, Jim has asked me to picnic with him tonight," she said almost shyly, and the small, knowing smile that played across Phyllis's face was gratifyingly honest.

All feeling returned to her body and she dashed up the stairs to press the outfit in question, only slightly hearing Phyllis repeat wonderingly, "Twenty pounds of brown sugar."

She ironed her dress to within an inch of its poplin-y life. She took care with her hair and tamed it into a becoming pompadour. She attended to these small ministries alone, and was almost glad that Kelly was busy with wedding preparations; this was her own experience and she thought she couldn't have borne any sort of gleeful conversation. Phyllis checked in several times, once with a handful of tiny, fresh blossoms for her hair and throat and another with a dab of eau de cologne.

By half past five, she was on the Green Gables porch, pacing and fidgeting with her handkerchief. Inside the house, Bob was uncharacteristically frowning, and Phyllis wouldn't let him out of the kitchen onto the porch. "She's a young lady, leave her be," she admonished, but gave him a tender smile and patted his arm.

By five minutes to six, Pam was having wild, irrational thoughts, wondering if Jim was going to change his mind. She was just planning on what she would have to say to Bob and Phyllis when she heard the jangle of reins and the muted clopping of horses' hooves. Jim came into view just then, and all nervousness melted away. This was just Jim, after all; she had talked to him a thousand times since she was a child, and he was the same as he had ever been.

No, she stopped herself, he had changed since his illness; there was much more of a man about him, though traces of the boy still peeked through in the untidy ruffle of his hair, the ease of his smile.

It was the boyish smile that he flashed at her as he climbed down from the buggy seat, untying the horses at the hitching post. Pam saw that he had taken care in dressing as well; his collar looked starched and stiff. She wondered if his mother had done it for him, the way Phyllis had attended to her as she dressed. The thought made her smile and she found herself not knowing what to say.

"It's going to be a wonderful evening for a picnic, " Jim said, and the proverbial ice broke.

"I know, this is my favorite time of the year," she said, "There's so much to see and do each day."

She indicated the barnyard and began leading the horse over. "We can let the horses stay in here with Sam and Bess," she said. "They can all have a good long chat."

Jim laughed. "What?" she asked, almost indignantly, but she was smiling.

"You see things that no one else does, that's one of the reasons I like you," said Jim, shaking his head, and his words hung in the air, making Pam blush. He likely hadn't meant anything but friendship in them, but still, her cheeks warmed and her heart fluttered.

Jim cleared this throat and reached into the buggy, emerging with a loaded picnic basket and a faded quilt. "Why don't we walk through the orchard toward the pond?" asked Pam. "We can stop anytime you get tired."

"No faith in me, Miss Shirley?" he ribbed gently, and laughing, they set off in the late afternoon sunshine. Their old banter returned as they walked through the sun-dappled orchard. Pam found it easier to talk with him while walking; it was much easier to pretend things were as they used to be if she didn't look at him.

Their stories were casual and friendly; Jim told her how his old dog had waited patiently outside everyday during Jim's illness, and had nearly knocked him down the first time he went outside. In return, Pam told him how she had accidentally mixed up the quantities of salt and sugar for a batch of Bob's ice cream, rendering an entire pailful useless for consumption by man or beast.

"Have you learned nothing about measurement from Mr. Scott's teaching?" teased Jim, and Pam laughed. "No! I mean, yes, I know how to measure, you goose, I was just distracted."

She immediately wish she hadn't said anything, because what would she tell him if he asked what had distracted her? That it was the thought of the fine stubble across his chin that had caused her to pour cup upon cup of salt into the ice cream barrel? That the image of the gazing hazel of his eyes boring into hers had caused her to tip the completely wrong amount of sugar in?

Mercifully, Jim asked no more about it, and launched into a tale of how he had accidentally baked a spoon inside a cake for his mother's birthday when he was a boy, and the laughter from that story took them to the edge of the pond.

"This looks perfect," said Jim, shaking out the quilt and laying it under a grand, bowing willow tree at the water's edge. He set the picnic basket in the middle, and Pam sat down, tucking her feet in their high buttoned shoes under her skirts. She watched as Jim opened removed the cloth covering the contents of the basket and opened her mouth to say something, but Jim held up a warning finger. "Not a word, please, Miss Shirley. This requires the utmost concentration."

Pam giggled silently as he laid out platters of sandwiches and salad, pretending to concentrate very hard on the exact placement of the dishes and napkins. Finally, he reached into the bottom of the basket and produced a bottle of cherry phosphate. He slid it over to Pam. "Hi," he said, finally speaking with a grin on his face. "Hi," she repeated, his smile mirrored on her countenance.

He glanced into the basket and paled. "I forgot the tumblers for the phosphate," he said, sounding disappointed with himself. "You can have the bottle, if you don't mind drinking out of it."

"Nonsense," she said, "We can share it, and no one's around to see us drinking straight from the bottle."

Jim nodded and handed her a napkin. They ate in amiable silence, punctuated by spurts of conversation. "Should I thank your mother for the food? It was delicious," Pam said, teasing.

"Now, now, I made all of it myself," he said, delightedly and she shook her head at him.

"I'm impressed," she said, and they both finished their food. Jim indicated the bottle of phosphate. "Go ahead, have some," he said. Neither of them had seemed to want to take the first drink, but at Jim's offer, she picked up the bottle and sipped the drink. It was delicious, fizzy and sweet, and she smiled as she handed the bottle to Jim. "It's lovely," she said, watching as Jim sipped from the bottle.

The sight of his lips where hers had been mere seconds before seemed such an intimate gesture that she looked away, a queer feeling in her stomach. "It's no raspberry cordial, but it'll do," he said, and Pam laughed a clear laugh. "I was so ill the next day, I thought for sure God was punishing me for gluttony," she said.

"Do you know, I've never spoken a word of that day to anyone?" said Jim, looking off into the distance. "It seems so long ago. Did Angela ever suspect anything?"

Pam shook her head. "I don't think so." She gazed over the water, watching the late afternoon sun set dimples of light across the tiny ripples, lending credence to her old name for it. She took a sip of cherry phosphate and was keenly aware that Jim's lips had just touched the rim. "I used to call this the Lake of Shining Waters," she said, smiling at the memory of long ago.

"You view things differently than most people," he said, following her gaze across the pond. She blushed. "You do," he insisted. "You take ordinary things and make them interesting, with vivid names or through your drawings. You're very good at seeing things more deeply."

Pam looked down at the quilt. "I'm not so good at seeing things sometimes," she said, and the silence that followed made her wonder if her words had any significance, if he had read the meaning that she desperately needed him to know, but that she couldn't put forth into bolder words.

She stole a glance at him and found the hazel gaze directed at her. He looked serious, nervous even, and Pam's stomach twinged in response to the change in direction.

"Pam, I just wanted to tell you that this year was difficult for me to get through," he said. She could almost see him urging the words out of himself, and she knew this was using every reserve of bravery he possessed.

"Academically, it was easy, but socially- every time I saw you with Roy Gardner, I wanted to hit something or break something or just...leave. Not talking to you was perhaps even harder, and then at the ball, it was pure torture. I mean, you asked me what it was like to beau around the most beautiful girl, and I wanted to shout at you that I didn't know what it was like, you wouldn't let me beau you around."

Pam said nothing; her mind was slowly processing, cogs churning out these bits of information, each a gem in its own right and together adding up to something very beautiful and almost frightening in its depth of feeling.

She felt herself breathing and felt her heart thudding in her chest, the sweet cherry taste on her lips. He was looking at her, waiting for her to respond, fear on his face as though she was going to throw his words back in his face as insult or ridicule.

She opened her mouth. "I hated Karen Stuart," she said, and Jim's anxiety disappeared instantly from his face as he laughed a surprised, delighted bark. "Well put," he said, as though almost embarrassed, and his words seemed to strengthen her.

"I meant what I said about not always being able to see things that should be apparent," she said, sitting up straight and looking beseechingly at him. "Do you ever feel like that, like you can't tell between what's real and what's just a dream?"

Jim laughed ruefully. "It's funny that you should ask me that tonight, when we're right here together. When you came to me and told me it was over with Roy, I tried not to let myself hope; I tried telling myself we were just easing back into our old friendship, but Pam, it's not working so well."

He sat up straighter and she felt a knot in her stomach. "I can't believe it's just our old friendship. I'm still as in love with you as I ever was, maybe more," he said.

He took her hands and she could hardly believe it; happiness crashed joyfully over her like a wave, and she couldn't speak. He opened his mouth again. "I asked you a question a year ago, and...if I asked it again today, will you give me a different answer?"

A lump formed in Pam's throat, and she found herself nodding, a gesture which sealed their fate and brought a look of pure joy and disbelief to both faces. She couldn't speak, but Jim needed no other answer.

She felt his hands slide onto her face and suddenly he was kissing her and it was at that moment that she realized what had been missing from Roy's kisses. Pure, honest, reciprocated love made Jim's kisses sweeter and softer and imbued with a longing, and she had never imagined she could feel like this. She slid her hands to his face and finally felt the fine stubble that she had mused and wondered over.

Their kiss broke and Pam buried her face in Jim's shoulder and felt his arms tighten around her. "I've been such a fool," she said, her words muffled. "Can you forgive me for treating you so horribly?"

She felt Jim's breath on her hair. "Don't apologize," he said, and she turned her face toward him. "Jim, it took me too long to realize it, but, I love you," she said into the smooth skin of his neck, and she felt a rumble in his chest as his breath caught.

She drew back and looked at him, sliding her hands on his; it was as though having touched him, she wanted never to be apart from him.

He looked serious. "It'll be a few years of me teaching to save up for a house and some land," he said, "But we'll find a little place between your school and mine, but I'm afraid it won't be as fancy as a city house. We may have to survive with only one kitchen," he said, looking at her, and she squeezed his hands.

"I don't need a fancy city house, I only need you," she said. Jim's eyes sparkled in the setting sun and this time it was she who leaned in to kiss him; in it, she tried to pour her depth of feeling and joy, and Jim responded enthusiastically. They were standing now, and Pam felt the length of his body against hers, her arms around his neck, Jim's hands gripping her corseted waist.

A newly awakened consciousness pervaded her as she leaned into his body and she now fully understood what it meant to be in love, a feeling which her imaginings had never come close to; she felt now that she had been fully ushered into the mysterious world of adulthood, something that had always frightened her but which she now embraced.

After what seemed like hours, they broke apart reluctantly. Pam had nearly forgotten about their picnic, and they ruefully packed the dishes and napkins back in the basket.

The sun cast a golden glow, bathing the world in a soft light, and Pam felt that it was just for them. Jim hung the basket on one arm, flipped the quilt over his shoulder and slid his arm around Pam's waist as they made their way slowly through the orchard, not wanting to leave the site of their reunion.

Pam felt as light as air, disbelieving that she could be this happy, her best friend and confidante as in love with her as she was with him. She laughed aloud and Jim looked down at her.

"What?" he asked, laughing himself without even knowing the joke.

"I was thinking about the day you rescued me from the bridge and how embarrassed I was, clinging to that piling," she said. "I suppose the problem was that I was really in love with you and looked like a goose."

Jim laughed and squeezed her. "I know I was in love with you, I knew the very day you broke that slate on my head. I deserved it, you know. But your eyes were sparkling and you had more gumption and spark than all of the other Avonlea girls put together. Still do."

Pam blushed. "I think I've loved you since the day you winked at me at that picnic. You intrigued me, and Jim, I'm sorry it took me so long to realize what I felt for you was much more than friendship," she said anxiously, looking at him. He stopped walking.

"Pam, it doesn't matter what has happened in the past. We have our whole lives together, and I'll be damned if I'll be separated from you ever again," he said, bending down to kiss her again. "This was the most miserable year of my life, but I have the feeling it'll be worth all of it."

She nodded and they continued to walk. Jim reached down and plucked a sprig of June lily and handed it to her. She sniffed the delicate perfume and looked at the silky petals, remembering the showy roses from Roy Gardner, a time that seemed so distant now. She squeezed Jim's hand, and by now they were at the barnyard.

Not wanting the magical evening to end, they dallied by the red clapboard wall near the horse paddock gate. "I wish you didn't have to leave," lamented Pam, but the dusk was falling over them and the lamps were lit in the windows of Green Gables.

Jim's response was to lean in for another kiss. Their goodbye lasted for several heady moments, pressed up against the barn and feeling the newly awakened longing in both. Pam thought that if the rest of Jim's kisses were like this, she'd be blissfully content for her whole life.

Back in Green Gables, Phyllis glanced out the window and gave an involuntary gasp, for the Avonlea mistress of propriety, Mrs. Marjorie Lynde, was sharing an after supper coffee, and if she were to see the closely twined figures at the barn, surely it would be all over Avonlea by tomorrow's end.

Mrs. Lynde shook her head. "Come away from the window, Phyllis, let them be."

Phyllis turned, surprised, to Mrs. Lynde. "How did you know what I saw?"

Mrs. Marjorie Lynde laughed her hearty laugh. "It's about time those two woke up and realized what was happening. Providence made those two for each other since they were children."

Outside, unaware that their fate was the topic of discussion over coffee and crullers, the two young lovers hitched up Jim's horses to the buggy and parted with one last, lingering kiss. "I'll come over tomorrow," Jim promised, and she grinned happily at him.

"Goodbye!" she called, watching him disappear around the bend in the road, and she knew that she could only ever be as happy as she was now, for she and Jim would have the rest of their lives to dream and live and be together, and that was comfort in its purest form. Dreams would be very sweet now.