On a beautiful June morning, Susan and Anne were sitting together in the sitting room that had been the place for so many conversations; yet this held, for the pair of them, a certain sorrow which peeped out from beneath a wave of joy.

For dear old Ingleside, which had once held six little children with their fantasies, woes, and dreams, only held three now. Jem and Faith had been married for a year and had a little son named Walter, and the beginning of spring had brought another parting in the form of Jerry and Nan's wedding. And the very next week, there would be only two-for Rilla and Ken were to be married the next Saturday. Mrs. Ford had come down to see Anne just as she used to do in the old house of dreams days. Her hair had a few white hairs, just as Anne's did. The two friends had sat together in happy silence for a few minutes and then impulsively, Leslie spoke.

"I can't believe how everything turned out! Imagine how far we've come, Anne, from those days when I and Owen were courting to now."

"Neither can I." Anne smiled. "I'm so sorry those years are over, though."

Then they launched into a series of do-you-remembers. Just after Leslie rose to go home, Anne said,

"It's as if everything was foreordained for us, Leslie. Imagine Rilla and Kenneth! It's so-right-that it seems almost as if they stumbled on a gold pot at the end of a rainbow."

"I know," sighed Leslie. "And Persis engaged, too. I'll soon have no children with me! But never did I hope for this-Ken marrying Rilla."

"That child was destined for it, and that you may tie to," announced Susan, who had just come in. Jims, now five years old, was behind her. He had come for a visit to see Rilla, but she had betaken herself to Rainbow Valley with Una Meredith. But Jims never did tire of seeing the old home, as much as he loved the new.

"I know," said Anne. "My last little baby."

"We mothers are so selfish when time comes to part, aren't we?" asked Leslie, and waving good-by to Susan and Anne hurried home.

"I would feel the same if that blessed brown boy decided to marry," Susan said. "I expect you do, too, Mrs. Dr. dear."

"Yes. But Rilla isn't going far away, and that I'm thankful for."

"Where are she and Kenneth going to settle down?" Susan asked. "I've heard that Mr. and Mrs. Ford are moving away to a little house, and Persis will go with them. Is it really true that Rilla and Ken are going to live in the old House of Dreams, Mrs. Dr. dear?"

"Yes-yes-yes. That is so beautiful I hardly dare believe it. Their romance will play its part as sweetly as mine and Gilbert's did, Susan."

"You and the doctor always were an ideal couple." Susan smiled. "How many people are coming for the wedding?"

"There's Davy and his family, and Dora and hers. Diana is coming, of course. My Di and Jack are going to make a match of it, I think. We always wanted that, you know. Philippa...Stella and Alden and their small flock...oh, Susan, little Elizabeth will be coming, too! She's coming alone, and her husband is going to manage the house and the three girls. Let me think...oh, of course there are the school-chums, which must equal forty at least. Jem and Faith and Walter...Jerry and Nan...Charlotta the Fourth, too. Susan, you do remember dear Rebecca Dew, don't you? And Pauline! Oh, Jane is coming too...and even Josie Pye. You don't know who she is, do you? She was a very funny girl. We were friends of a sort, I suppose. And the other Stella, my friend from Vancouver. I guess this wedding will be the biggest I've ever been to. All the Glen people too. We're going to make about five cakes."

"Mrs. Dr. dear, is it true that Pauline Johnson cannot eat eggs now? She must be...seventy-something?"

"No, it's not. Do you know, Susan, Pauline did get married after all. She has only one child, and she is thirty-four now and has about four of her own. Pauline's mother didn't quite spoil everything for her."

"I never did hold with mothers spoiling things for their daughters and that you may tie to...from what you have told me, Pauline's life was just 'gone catawampus' until she plucked up the courage to get married. It took you to give it to her, Mrs. Dr. dear."


As the two were conversing in the parlor, Rilla and Una were sitting beneath the bells in Rainbow Valley.

"I'm so happy it seems unreal, Una," said Rilla rapturously.

"You are fortunate, Rilla," said Una. In her hands she held a much-thumbed, folded, refolded, and caressed letter-on which several tears had been wept and over which so many prayers had been uttered. It was all Una had of the boy she had loved with all her heart; and Rilla's eyes misted over with tears as she looked at it.

"He's here, Una," Rilla said, squeezing Una's hands. "No matter what, he will be and he is now. He'll be watching you forever, and he'll be waiting for you Beyond. Walter would never leave you, Una dear. He's here with us."

"Willa!" came a cry from the entrance of the valley. Rilla started up at the sound of the beloved voice, and in another moment, she and Jims were in each other's arms. Rilla kissed her baby and said,

"How are you getting on, Jims?"

"I miss you, Willa. I's nice but it's not here," said Jims, kissing Rilla in turn.

"You'll be here this Saturday, won't you?"

"Willa, what's Saturday?"

"My wedding."

"Yes, Willa."

Una looked at Jims, and said so softly not even Rilla could hear,

"I'll keep faith, Walter. Now and Forever."

When Rilla returned to Ingleside, she found it almost empty. Di and Shirley were not there, and her parents had gone to see Kenneth. Susan, however, was looking over the family albums.

"I was thinking," said Susan as Rilla came in, "of the time when you first brought that little mite here in the tureen. How you and he have grown since then!"

"I'm almost twenty, Susan," said Rilla, sighing. "I'll soon say goodbye to my teens forever. Jims is a dear child, and I really am proud of him. That child will be a credit to me and to his parents."

"Do not you know that you are his real mother, Rilla?" said Susan. "You saved him from that dreadful Conover woman, and saving a life, Rilla, is almost the same as making one. Little Kitchener is alive because of you and how you couldn't let a baby go to an asylum. I almost wish that you and Kenneth could have adopted him, but of course the child must stay with his father."

"I know," said Rilla. "He still looks to me as his mother."

"Have you ever taken Kitchener to Mrs. Anderson's grave, Rilla?" asked Susan.

"No, I haven't."

"I suggest you take him now."

So Rilla and Jims went to the graveyard and to Mrs. Anderson's grave. Jims looked at it solemnly and asked,

"Willa, who was Marian Anderson?"

"Jims, she was your mother, your real mother."

"Oh," said Jims, looking at the grave. "Willa, you never told me."

"You were too small. She was your mother and it was because she loved you so much that I saved you and took you to Ingleside. A mother's love will protect her baby, no matter what. I came down that lane just to rescue you, even though I didn't know it."

"I love you, Willa," said Jims, fiercely hugging Rilla.

"And I you, dear," said Rilla, taking him up in her arms. "You must come and visit after the wedding. I want you to be there as much as you can."

"'Course I will," said Jims, feeling his pockets to see if he had a peppermint there. "Mamma Sarah said I was to."

"How do you like Mamma Sarah and Papa, Jims?"

"Very much, but they aren't the same as you, and the farm isn't Ingleside."

Soon Jims' stepmother came for him. She came with the two-month old baby, a little girl with all the vivacity and charm, even at her tender age, that her elder brother Jims possessed. Both James Anderson and Jims had insisted that the girl should be named nothing but "Rilla" and Sarah Anderson decided that "Cornelia" should be added, for the help that Miss Cornelia—who still was called Miss Cornelia and never, on any account (even Susan had given it up) "Mrs. Marshall Elliot"—had given her when she first set up housekeeping.

Rilla Cornelia Anderson was the name of Jims' sister, forever and beyond.

Then Rilla uttered a phrase—which, to us, ought to mean that this is the end of all tales about her, and Anne, and the others of Ingleside. It concludes the tale that began with the redheaded little girl Anne Shirley in the east gable of an Avonlea and all the people around her, and ends with the story of a young woman, Bertha Marilla Blythe.

"God's in his heaven; all's right with the world."