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Anne of Windy Poplars (Official Anne of Green Gables, 4)
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About Anne Of Windy Poplars
Product Description A classic for all ages, this official, unabridged edition of Anne of Windy Poplars features the unforgettable character of Anne Shirley and special memories, exclusively from L.M. Montgomery's granddaughter. Anne Shirley has a tendency to stir up controversy wherever she goes. And her new position as principal of Summerside High School is no exception. The Pringles, the ruling family in town, want one of their own in the job, and they've made it their mission to drive Annie out. As Anne settles into her tower room at Windy Poplars with the widows Aunt Kate and Aunt Chatty, she finds she has more allies than she knows. And letters from her dear Gilbert Blythe help her remember that with a little bit of imagination, she can triumph over anything... Through Anne's eyes, the ordinary world becomes magical and every day is an adventure. It's no surprise she is a favorite of everyone from Mark Twain to Duchess Kate. About the Author L.M. Montgomery achieved international fame in her lifetime that endures well over a century later. A prolific writer, she published some 500 short stories and poems and twenty novels. Most recognized for Anne of Green Gables, her work has been hailed by Mark Twain, Margaret Atwood, Madeleine L'Engle and Princess Kate, to name a few. Today, Montgomery's novels, journals, letters, short stories, and poems are read and studied by general readers and scholars from around the world. Her writing appeals to people who love beauty and to those who struggle against oppression. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Chapter 1 (Letter from Anne Shirley, B.A., Principal of Summerside High School, to Gilbert Blythe, medical student at Redmond College, Kingsport.) Windy Poplars, Spook's Lane, S'side, P. E. I., Monday, September 12th. Dearest: Isn't that an address! Did you ever hear anything so delicious? Windy Poplars is the name of my new home and I love it. I also love Spook's Lane, which has no legal existence. It should be Trent Street but it is never called Trent Street except on the rare occasions when it is mentioned in the Weekly Courier...and then people look at each other and say, "Where on earth is that?" Spook's Lane it is...although for what reason I cannot tell you. I have already asked Rebecca Dew about it, but all she can say is that it has always been Spook's Lane and there was some old yarn years ago of its being haunted. But she has never seen anything worse-looking than herself in it. However, I mustn't get ahead of my story. You don't know Rebecca Dew yet. But you will, oh, yes, you will. I foresee that Rebecca Dew will figure largely in my future correspondence. It's dusk, dearest. (In passing, isn't "dusk" a lovely word? I like it better than twilight. It sounds so velvety and shadowy and...and...dusky.) In daylight I belong to the world...in the night to sleep and eternity. But in the dusk I'm free from both and belong only to myself...and you. So I'm going to keep this hour sacred to writing to you. Though this won't be a love-letter. I have a scratchy pen and I can't write love-letters with a scratchy pen...or a sharp pen...or a stub pen. So you'll only get that kind of letter from me when I have exactly the right kind of pen. Meanwhile, I'll tell you about my new domicile and its inhabitants. Gilbert, they're such dears. I came up yesterday to look for a boarding-house. Mrs. Rachel Lynde came with me, ostensibly to do some shopping but really, I know, to choose a boarding-house for me. In spite of my Arts course and my B.A., Mrs. Lynde still thinks I am an inexperienced young thing who must be guided and directed and overseen. We came by train and oh, Gilbert, I had the funniest adventure. You know I've always been one to whom adventures came unsought. I just seem to attract them, as it were. It happened just as the train was coming to a stop at the station. I got up and, stooping to pick up Mrs. Lynde's suitcase (she was planning to spend Su
