(Imagine this after the part when Nan goes to see Anne about the bargain with God :) )

Anne was sitting up from pneumonia, enjoying the life she was given after that frightening spell. She was admiring the sun beams coming through the curtains that needed changing when "into the room crept Nan, eyes and nose crimson from crying.

'Mummy, I have to tell you. . . I can't wait any longer. Mummy, I've cheated God.'

Anne thrilled again to the soft touch of a child's little clinging hand. . . a child seeking help. And comfort in its bitter problem. She listened while Nan sobbed out the whole story and managed to keep a straight face. Anne had always contrived to keep a straight face when a straight face was indicated, no matter how crazily she might laugh it over with Gilbert afterwards. She knew Nan's worry was real and dreadful to her; and she also realized that this small daughter's theology needed attention.

'Darling, you're terribly mistaken about it all. God doesn't make bargains. He gives . . . gives without asking from us in return except love. When you ask Father or me for something you want, we don't make bargains with you . . . and God is ever and ever so much kinder than we are. And He knows so much better that we do what is good to give.'

'And He won't . . . He won't make you die, Mummy, because I didn't keep my promise?'

'Certainly not, darling.'"

Anne had satisfied her thirst for comforting earlier with Nan and reveled more at her dear children's bedtime, tucking them in for the first time in a long time. All was taken care of, and she wished Gilbert would arrive sooner to tell him of this reintroduction to all the things she held dear. But Anne always thought to something to do to pass the time and replayed the day's events in her mind, feeling giddy as she had as she had when they actually happened. Her train of thoughts were interrupted when the light and tired footsteps of Gilbert came rushing through the hall.

"Anne-girl, you're still up? You ought to rest, only the first day back and again you're deep in your thoughts." Said the Doctor gaily

"Oh, I was always marveling and imagining even then. One never stops."

"You are a perfect example," Laughed the doctor "but my Annest of Annes is still recovering, and I won't have her staying up half the night"

"I forgot to mention why I had, Gilbert dear. Today I thought my heart would swell up due to the welcome our dee-lightful small-fry descended upon me. And the touch of a sweaty small hand was as beautiful as it ever was! But the highlight of my day, darling, was Nan coming here earlier and spilling her heart's content and contempt to me. And oh! what it contained! Susan had been telling me how worried she has been for the child and now I know why! The blessed girl had made a bargain with God! She asked Him to spare my from death's cold hands and in return, she would walk the graveyard at nightfall! "

Anne laughed the laugh she was holding when Nan had come for comfort. "I feel as if I it's wicked to laugh at Nan's request, after all she had good intentions and this is based on the good Lord, but it puzzles me where she got these notions of hers!" the once again gay mother confessed.

"Our children have intentions that are pure, and hearts of gold and courage. I fancy they've inherited that from you." The proud father said "But, Anne, that was quiet a scare you gave all of us. If Nan's promise was valid, I would have crossed all the graveyards of the world for reassurance. My darling, I cannot bear to experience that again."

"Oh this is the high light of my day, and of my life. To have a family like ours and a husband like you. And I promise to you that I will try my very best to care for myself and ourselves, if I don't you have the permission to dye my hair green. There! If that isn't motivation, and I don't know what is."

"I would never dream of having my Anne with any other color aside from the shade of carrots. But thank you for promising that."

And all of the inhabitants of Ingleside slept soundly that night, with no worries of life or death, of crossing graveyards or dogs. "Life was more than delicately balanced organic chemistry."