Chapter XXXII

CHAPTER XXXII

The Pass List Is Out

With the end of June came the close of the term and the close of
Miss Stacy's rule in Avonlea school. Anne and Diana walked home that
evening feeling very sober indeed. Red eyes and damp handkerchiefs
bore convincing testimony to the fact that Miss Stacy's farewell words
must have been quite as touching as Mr. Phillips's had been under
similar circumstances three years before. Diana looked back at the
schoolhouse from the foot of the spruce hill and sighed deeply.

"It does seem as if it was the end of everything, doesn't it?"
she said dismally.

"You oughtn't to feel half as badly as I do," said Anne, hunting
vainly for a dry spot on her handkerchief. "You'll be back again
next winter, but I suppose I've left the dear old school forever--
if I have good luck, that is."

"It won't be a bit the same. Miss Stacy won't be there, nor you
nor Jane nor Ruby probably. I shall have to sit all alone, for I
couldn't bear to have another deskmate after you. Oh, we have had
jolly times, haven't we, Anne? It's dreadful to think they're all over."

Two big tears rolled down by Diana's nose.

"If you would stop crying I could," said Anne imploringly. "Just
as soon as I put away my hanky I see you brimming up and that
starts me off again. As Mrs. Lynde says, 'If you can't be cheerful,
be as cheerful as you can.' After all, I dare say I'll be back
next year. This is one of the times I KNOW I'm not going to pass.
They're getting alarmingly frequent."

"Why, you came out splendidly in the exams Miss Stacy gave."

"Yes, but those exams didn't make me nervous. When I think of
the real thing you can't imagine what a horrid cold fluttery
feeling comes round my heart. And then my number is thirteen and
Josie Pye says it's so unlucky. I am NOT superstitious and I know
it can make no difference. But still I wish it wasn't thirteen."

"I do wish I was going in with you," said Diana. "Wouldn't we
have a perfectly elegant time? But I suppose you'll have to cram
in the evenings."

"No; Miss Stacy has made us promise not to open a book at all.
She says it would only tire and confuse us and we are to go out
walking and not think about the exams at all and go to bed early.
It's good advice, but I expect it will be hard to follow; good
advice is apt to be, I think. Prissy Andrews told me that she
sat up half the night every night of her Entrance week and
crammed for dear life; and I had determined to sit up AT LEAST as
long as she did. It was so kind of your Aunt Josephine to ask me
to stay at Beechwood while I'm in town."

"You'll write to me while you're in, won't you?"

"I'll write Tuesday night and tell you how the first