Lynde's garden and set the flowers dancing-and then I'll go with one great swoop over the clover field-and then I'll blow over the Lake of Shining Waters and ripple it all up into little sparkling waves. When I get tired of the trees I'll imagine I'm gently waving down here in the ferns-and then I'll fly over to Mrs.
"But I'm going to imagine that I'm the wind that is blowing up there in those tree tops. "Saying one's prayers isn't exactly the same as praying," said Anne meditatively. Anne suddenly came close to Marilla and slipped her hand into the older woman's hard palm. Far up in the shadows a cheerful light gleamed out through the trees from the kitchen at Green Gables. A little gypsy wind came down it to meet them, laden with the spicy perfume of young dew-wet ferns.
Anne said no more until they turned into their own lane.
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