walk down as far as that little creek below the old House of Dreams and
then sail to the lighthouse? Won't it just be absolutely divine?"

"When I was fifteen I talked in italics and superlatives too," said Miss
Oliver sarcastically. "I think the party promises to be pleasant for
young fry. I expect to be bored. None of those boys will bother dancing
with an old maid like me. Jem and Walter will take me out once out of
charity. So you can't expect me to look forward to it with your touching
young rapture."

"Didn't you have a good time at your first party, though, Miss Oliver?"

"No. I had a hateful time. I was shabby and homely and nobody asked me
to dance except one boy, homelier and shabbier than myself. He was so
awkward I hated him--and even he didn't ask me again. I had no real
girlhood, Rilla. It's a sad loss. That's why I want you to have a
splendid, happy girlhood. And I hope your first party will be one you'll
remember all your life with pleasure."

"I dreamed last night I was at the dance and right in the middle of
things I discovered I was dressed in my kimono and bedroom shoes,"
sighed Rilla. "I woke up with a gasp of horror."

"Speaking of dreams--I had an odd one," said Miss Oliver absently. "It
was one of those vivid dreams I sometimes have--they are not the vague
jumble of ordinary dreams--they are as clear cut and real as life."

"What was your dream?"

"I was standing on the veranda steps, here at Ingleside, looking down