With spring comes a hint of romance in the air, and that year, even Pam wasn't impervious to it. She and Kelly traded Kelly's romance stories back and forth, with Pam reading under the covers so that Phyllis would not see. Pam felt a little silly and embarrassed reading them, as though it meant that she, too, was ready for a beau.

One such picture was completed on a sunny afternoon in April. Pam had Kelly sit under a pine tree near the Lake of Shining Waters and gaze longingly across the water and she drew her carefully.

"Averil's very sad, this is her comeuppance for breaking poor Perceval's heart by speaking to that cad Maurice Lennox, and now she must atone for her mistake,” Pam described as she drew, and Kelly broke the pose to turn and ask, "Why didn't she just run off with Maurice instead? He was so wicked, and she could have reformed him."

"I think she would have reformed him, but I think her heart really belongs to Perceval," said Pam decidedly. This answer satisfied Kelly, who resumed her pose. "She's very bittersweet, she enjoyed Maurice's dashing company, but Perceval was such a dear to her and truly has her love," continued Pam as she added a few final flourishes to her drawing. "There, Kelly, it's finished."

She waited as Kelly looked at the drawing. "Pam! This is wonderful!" shrieked Kelly, and Pam smiled happily. If there was one thing at which Kelly was very good, it was giving praise. "May I keep this one?" asked Kelly, her dark eyes shining. "Of course," said Pam, signing her name to the bottom; she carefully tore it out of her sketch book and rolled it up.

"I present this to you as a token of our friendship," she giggled, and Kelly pressed it to her bosom. "Oh Maurice! What will Perceval say when he finds out you've given me a drawing of myself?" she joked, and both girls shared a healthy laugh. "Oh, it's going to be awful when we're all grown up and can't do this any more," lamented Pam.

"I can't imagine what we'll be doing next year at this time," said Kelly, "You'll be an old college girl and I'll be sitting at home knitting and crocheting."

"Well, maybe it'll be a different home than you think," said Pam meaningfully, and Kelly giggled. "It seems so silly to think that I might be married! I just wish Ryan would even LOOK at me. "

 "Perhaps he's just biding his time, like Mr. Scott says the Widow Gould is doing," offered Pam, and Kelly grinned again as she got up and shook out her skirts. "I have to go help Mother with the laundry, I promised her," she said, clutching the Averil drawing. "We can always be old maids together, Pam, that might be fun!"

"Ah, but you're forgetting my handsome knight in shining armor,” said Pam, lifting her hand to her forehead in a mock swoon. "I shall not rest until I am Mrs. Dwighde Schrude!"   

Pam just shook her head and waved to Kelly as they parted ways.

*

Nearly a month had passed when, on a bright and sunny Saturday, Phyllis sent Pam into town for a few things from Lawson's General Store. Pam happily agreed and set down the road into the main thoroughfare. She had spent all morning helping Bob clean the cow stalls, and though she had changed her dress and cleaned off her shoes, she still carried an air of manure about her. She tied her hair back in an old ribbon and set off down the road, thinking how lovely it was to live in such a nice place.

As she entered the main part of downtown Avonlea (which was really just three buildings- the blacksmith, the feed store and Lawson's General), she felt an odd feeling on the back of her neck and she looked behind her. Several of the townspeople waved to her, and Pam felt a little strange.

It wasn't the fact that people were being so friendly that bewildered her, for Avonlea folk were generally very friendly and jovial. What was strange was that everyone she passed smiled and waved at her, and each seemed to be clutching a yellow sheet of paper. "Good afternoon, Pam," called someone; as Pam said hello, someone else waved the yellow sheet and shouted, "Congratulations, Pam, Mr. and Mrs. Vance ought to be proud of you!"

Utterly bewildered, Pam pushed through the door of Lawson's General Store and found herself in the midst of a crowd, all of them patting her on the back and jostling her toward the counter. Mr. Lawson spotted her through the bustling group and beckoned her to come forward. She reached the counter as he climbed onto his stepstool, facing the crowd. "Attention, townspeople of Avonlea. As proprietor of Lawson's General Store, it gives me great pride and pleasure to announce that Miss Pamela Shirley is the winner of the Rollings Reliable Baking Powder Advertisement Contest. Miss Shirley's entry in the contest was chosen out of thousands of applications as the best representative of the new and improved line of Rollings Reliable Baking Powder. In addition to a twenty-five dollar check, Miss Shirley's art will be featured in magazines and newspapers across the country, and is featured on a large number of fliers for the Avonlea community, provided by Rollings Reliable in the hopes that you will try their fine product."

Pam's jaw fell open. She had no idea what Mr. Lawson was going on about, but she had a sinking feeling in her chest as she reached for the stack of fliers Mr. Lawson held out to her. There was her picture of Averil, gazing from beside the pine tree, only now there was a dish of lopsided cake next to her and the words "She pines...for a reliable baking powder." Below that, Pam could read "Next time, try Rollings Reliable Baking Powder for Perfect Pastries and Boastful Breads. First Prize Artwork to Miss Pamela Shirley of Avonlea, Prince Edward Island" 

Pam's face grew hot as people congratulated her and shoved fliers under her nose for her to autograph. Acutely aware that she smelled like a barn, Pam politely edged her way over to the door as best as she could, numbly signing fliers and mumbling words of acceptance as people praised her. "It's our own little Pambrandt!" called Mr. Scott.  

As she passed Katy Pye, Pam saw her wave her hand in front of her nose. "That Pam Shirley smells like a horse," she said loudly to Mrs. Patch, "and I'm sure I've seen this picture before. I don't believe she could draw it, she must certainly have traced it."

Pam finally broke free of the mass of bodies outside the store and began to run towards Green Gables. She didn't know why she felt so upset; all she knew was that she was embarrassed to have her drawing splashed across the town. It was private, almost as though she was showing off her bloomers, and she couldn't wait to get back to the solitude of the farm. And how on earth had Rollings Reliable come to have her drawing?

As she clattered down the wooden sidewalk, she heard Kelly's unmistakable squeal of "Paaaaaam!" Pam slowed down and turned to face her friend. "Oh my goodness, Pam, I'm so excited for you! I just knew it would win when I sent it in!" cried Kelly, out of breath but grinning.

Realization dawned on Pam. "You...sent it in?" she asked dazedly. "Of course, silly. You gave it to me, and I saw the contest, and I knew it would be perfect. I added the cake, but that was good, because the cake was supposed to look dreadful because Averil is pining for better baking powder. Did you see that? She pines, and she's sitting next to a pine tree!" finished Kelly, clapping her hands in delight.

Dual emotions coursed through Pam; she felt a surge of affection for her friend who meant well in her innocence, but she felt as though she were about to be sick with embarrassment. "Thank you, Kelly," she said, still in a daze. Kelly threw her arms around Pam's neck. "I'm so happy for you! I'd love to walk home with you, but I promised Mother I'd go get more fliers for the relatives!"

Pam nodded as Kelly set off toward the general store. She turned and walked at a much slower pace, not knowing what to do. Kevin Spurgeon MacPherson and Jakey Palmer passed by and Kevin called out, "I piiiine for a reliable baking powder. Pam? Do you piiiine for a reliable baking powder?"

Pam ignored them, but was immediately waylaid by Dwighde, who cut her off atop his pony. "Pam, I've taken the liberty of looking at your drawing, and while it's relatively pleasing to the eye, there are a few mistakes. Judging by the style of the woman's dress, she's living in the period between 1850 and 1855, but the shoes you've drawn weren't in style until 1865. Also, the pine tree you've drawn should have three needles per pod, but you have five, which makes the pinecone shape grossly wrong.  White pines don't grow lodgepole pinecones. You could stand to do a little research next time," he finished, and Pam glowered at him. He reddened, clicked his heels on the pony's flank and said "Gehen Sie, Bill," and trotted away.

Pam continued down the road, irritated. All she wanted to do was go home, have a cup of tea and eat nothing with baking powder in it. "Pam!" she heard someone call, and she turned to see Jim Blythe catch up with her. "I saw your drawing," he said, "Congratulations on winning."  

"Thanks," she said, looking down. "Is something wrong?" asked Jim. Pam shrugged slightly. "I don't exactly know what to think, and everyone's been making such a fuss over it and either congratulating me or teasing me," she said.  

"Well," said Jim thoughtfully, “Maybe they're either happy for you or jealous of you. What else is bothering you?"

Pam shrugged again. "I just don't think it was good enough for a prize, Kelly was the one who entered it in my name, and I don't know how I feel about my private work being plastered all over Avonlea." Jim nodded. "I can see how that would be strange. But why be embarrassed?" 

Pam blushed and was quiet for a moment before saying, "Because it's a silly imaginary character that I draw all the time and now everyone knows that I draw moony, lovestruck people and dress them in finery and it's just childish, Jim. I didn't want anyone to know I do that." 

Jim looked down at her, and she found herself quickening her pace slightly to keep up with him; he was so tall.  "To be fair, no one knows that you still draw like that, for all they know, you entered the advertisement contest yourself."  

Pam groaned. "That's even worse, I think. I would never be so vain as to try to attract attention like that; I'm just not like that."

"Don't sell yourself short, Pam, you're a very good artist. It's just that..."

Pam looked up at him. "What?"

Jim reddened and looked down. "Well...see, when I saw it, it kind of looked like Kelly, and perhaps if you'd just have drawn Kelly, it might not be so embarrassing. It's not that it's bad, it just maybe lacks a certain...spark that you always produce when you draw something you really see."Pam bristled. "So it's not good?"

 "No, it's good, it's just that there's something that's always in your drawings when it's people in their truest form, something real."

"So using my imagination is worst than just drawing mundane, everyday things?" asked Pam angrily.

"Of course not, your imagination is what makes you, you! And you make everyday things interesting when you draw them. You draw what you see, and that's when I think you're at your best."

"I didn't need you to remind me that my drawing was silly and not real, but thank you, James Blythe, for being such a renowned art critic!" Pam stormed. They had reached the gate at Green Gables, and Pam ran through, clattering up the stairs into the house, not looking back.

She knew she was being sensitive, but Jim had touched a nerve in her by daring to speak the truth about her art. She knew he was right, she had perhaps realized that herself, but it still wasn't easy for her to hear. It hurt doubly because she valued Jim's opinion above most.

She shut herself in her little gabled room and sat on the bed. She breathed deeply, trying to calm herself. She hated fighting with her friends; because it so rarely happened, it made her feel uneasy when relations were strained. The thought of not talking to Jim made her stomach tie in knots, and she wished she could take back her hateful tones and apologize to her friend.

She lay on her bed until the sunlight slanted in, filling the room with a twilight glow. Then she quietly rose and sat at her easel, taking out her sketch book from its drawer. With a few quick strokes of her pencil, a shape appeared, and she continued to draw, concentrating on the face in her mind. When she finished a few moments later, Jim's face smiled up at her. She slid the drawing in an envelope, pausing before hand to write lightly on the back. "To Jim, here's something real. Pam."

She addressed the envelope to Jim at the Blythe farm on Von Bergen Road and quietly went down the front stairs and out the front door. Bob always called this the witching hour, and she knew she would not come across many people in town. She headed for the post office, hurrying before she lost her nerve and hoping that Jim would accept her apology. Somehow, she thought he would.