Path. He held out to her a cluster of the dainty little wild orchids
which Avonlea children called "rice lillies."

"Please, teacher, I found these in Mr. Wright's field," he said shyly,
"and I came back to give them to you because I thought you were the
kind of lady that would like them, and because . . ." he lifted his big
beautiful eyes . . . "I like you, teacher."

"You darling," said Anne, taking the fragrant spikes. As if Paul's words
had been a spell of magic, discouragement and weariness passed from her
spirit, and hope upwelled in her heart like a dancing fountain. She went
through the Birch Path light-footedly, attended by the sweetness of her
orchids as by a benediction.

"Well, how did you get along?" Marilla wanted to know.

"Ask me that a month later and I may be able to tell you. I can't now
. . . I don't know myself . . . I'm too near it. My thoughts feel as if
they had been all stirred up until they were thick and muddy. The only
thing I feel really sure of having accomplished today is that I taught
Cliffie Wright that A is A. He never knew it before. Isn't it something
to have started a soul along a path that may end in Shakespeare and
Paradise Lost?"

Mrs. Lynde came up later on with more encouragement. That good lady had
waylaid the schoolchildren at her gate and demanded of them how they
liked their new teacher.

"And every one of them said they liked you splendid, Anne, except
Anthony Pye. I must admit he didn't. He said you 'weren't any good,