One fall afternoon Mr. Harrison and Anne were having afternoon tea when Mr. Harrison inquired, "Been writing any more stories lately, Anne?"
"No," answered Anne rather curtly.
"I heard that someone recently sent a big envelope to the Rollings Reliable Baking Company in Montreal," remarked Mr. Harrison.
"I thought maybe it was you, sending in your story to the Rollings Reliable Story Competition."
"I would never do that!" replied Anne indignantly.
"I read about the competition, but I think it's disgraceful to write a story to advertise a baking powder.
It's almost as bad as Mr. Parker's fence with advertising all over it!"
When Anne said that, she had no idea of how the day would unfold.
That very evening, Diana popped into Green Gables. She was carrying a letter.
"Anne, open this letter right away!" she said excitedly.
"I was at the post office, so I picked it up for you.
I have a feeling it's good news."
Puzzled, Anne opened the letter. "Dear Madam," she read.
"We take much pleasure in informing you that your charming story 'Averil's Atonement' has won the first prize of $25 in our recent story competition.
Regards, Rollings Reliable Baking Company.
I don't understand," said Anne blankly.
Diana clapped her hands. "Oh, I knew it would win the prize! I was sure of it.
I sent your story into the competition, Anne."
"Diana Barry!" Anne exclaimed.
Diana was not always the most observant person, but she realized that Anne was not overjoyed.
"Why, Anne, you don't seem a bit pleased."
Anne instantly made herself smile. "Diana," Anne began, "of course I'm touched that you helped me get my story published.
That was very unselfish of you, but . . . there wasn't a word in my story about . . . about . . ." Anne choked a little over the word, "baking powder!"
"Oh, I put that in," said Diana. "It was easy! You know the scene where Averil makes the cake?
Well, I just added in that she used Rollings Reliable Baking Powder, and that's why the cake was so delicious.
And in the final scene, after Averil and Harold kiss . . ."
"Yes?" said Anne quietly.
"I wrote, 'and they always used Rollings Reliable Baking Powder in every cake, and lived happily ever after,'" Diana quoted proudly.
"Oh," gasped Anne, as if someone had thrown cold water on her.
"And you've won twenty-five dollars," continued Diana jubilantly.
"Why, I heard that magazines only pay five dollars a story! I'm so happy for you, Anne."
Anne held the hateful check that had been attached to the letter.
"I can't take it, Diana. You deserve it, since you sent the story in and made the changes. I . . . I wouldn't have sent it."
"Absolutely not! I would never take that money; it's yours, Anne!
The honor of being a friend of the prizewinner is enough for me," Diana said.
Anne suddenly bent forward, put her arms around Diana, and kissed her cheek.
"I think you are the sweetest and truest friend in the world, Diana. Thank you."
Anne left with tears in her eyes.
She felt deeply embarrassed over what had happened to her literary endeavor.
"I will never live this down," she thought. "Never!"
A week later Anne left for Halifax.
For the first time, she was not sorry to leave Avonlea because her last week there had not been pleasant.
Her story was published in all the newspapers on Prince Edward Island, and everyone had an opinion.
Josie Pye was sure that Anne had copied the story while Mrs. Lynde said, unimpressed, "It's perfectly amazing, the price they pay for such lies!"
Back in Halifax Anne, Priscilla, Stella, and Phil settled quickly into their new home at Patty's Place.
Mrs. Lynde and Marilla had given Anne jams and cakes and other foods, so the girls had a full pantry. And soon they were welcoming visitors.
They passed many enjoyable Friday evenings entertaining guests around the fireplace in their cozy living room.
Gilbert was a frequent visitor, but Anne still felt uncomfortable around him at times.
It seemed as if their relationship had gotten very complicated.
One afternoon Anne was sitting under the apple tree behind Patty's Place when she saw Gilbert coming toward her with a bunch of wildflowers.
"Don't these remind you of home and our old school picnics, Anne?" he asked.
Anne smiled and buried her face in the flowers.
"I feel like I'm back in Avonlea right now!"
"Will you go back to Avonlea for winter vacation?" Gilbert asked.
"Yes, I will," Anne answered. "And I guess you will too?"
"No, I'll be working in Halifax," said Gilbert.
"Oh," said Anne, surprised. She couldn't picture what a whole Avonlea winter would be like without Gilbert.
"Well, a new job . . . that's exciting," said Anne, without any very clear idea of what she was saying.
Gilbert was now staring at Anne with a strange expression.
Anne wished desperately that Phil would come out and interrupt them.
"Well . . . uh . . . I found a cluster of white violets under that old twisted tree today," Anne mumbled.
"They were so pretty, I felt as if I'd discovered a gold mine!"
"You are always discovering gold mines, Anne," said Gilbert.
"Let's find some more violets. I think I saw some more over there," suggested Anne quickly. "I'll call Phil and—"
"Never mind Phil and the violets just now, Anne," said Gilbert, quietly taking her hand.
He looked deep into Anne's eyes. "There is something I want to say to you."
"Oh, don't say it," cried Anne. "Don't . . . please, Gilbert," she begged him.
"I must," Gilbert said firmly. "Things can't go on like this any longer.
Anne, I love you. You know I do. I can't tell you how much.
Will you promise me that one day you'll be my wife?"