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Anne of the Island

XV. A Dream Turned Upside Down
"Just one more week and we go back to Redmond," said Anne. She was happy at the
thought of returning to work, classes and Redmond friends. Pleasing visions were also
being woven around Patty's Place. There was a warm pleasant sense of home in the
thought of it, even though she had never lived there.
But the summer had been a very happy one, too--a time of glad living with summer suns
and skies, a time of keen delight in wholesome things; a time of renewing and
deepening of old friendships; a time in which she had learned to live more nobly, to
work more patiently, to play more heartily.
"All life lessons are not learned at college," she thought. "Life teaches them
everywhere."
But alas, the final week of that pleasant vacation was spoiled for Anne, by one of those
impish happenings which are like a dream turned upside down.
"Been writing any more stories lately?" inquired Mr. Harrison genially one evening when
Anne was taking tea with him and Mrs. Harrison.
"No," answered Anne, rather crisply.
"Well, no offense meant. Mrs. Hiram Sloane told me the other day that a big envelope
addressed to the Rollings Reliable Baking Powder Company of Montreal had been
dropped into the post office box a month ago, and she suspicioned that somebody was
trying for the prize they'd offered for the best story that introduced the name of their
baking powder. She said it wasn't addressed in your writing, but I thought maybe it was
you."
"Indeed, no! I saw the prize offer, but I'd never dream of competing for it. I think it would
be perfectly disgraceful to write a story to advertise a baking powder. It would be almost
as bad as Judson Parker's patent medicine fence."
So spake Anne loftily, little dreaming of the valley of humiliation awaiting her. That very
evening Diana popped into the porch gable, bright-eyed and rosy cheeked, carrying a
letter.
"Oh, Anne, here's a letter for you. I was at the office, so I thought I'd bring it along. Do
open it quick. If it is what I believe it is I shall just be wild with delight." Anne, puzzled,
opened the letter and glanced over the typewritten contents.
Miss Anne Shirley,
 
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