A/N: All the usual excuses apply to this heavily overdue chapter, blah blah blah. Lately I've been working on an original story, and it's been taking up my time (right now I've written 65,000 words), and unfortunately, fanfic is on the backburner. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! And please, leave your thoughts in a review :)

Take Notice

iv. At eighteen, Gilbert Blythe had graduated Queen's Academy and was a certified schoolmaster, but he still had yet to learn the ways of women. Although he had earned the long-sought friendship of Anne Shirley, which had blossomed into something Anne might call a "bosom friendship", he still had not figured out how to please her. Each time he stumbled over his words around her—almost certainly in an attempt to impress or please her—he learned something new.

Right now, he was in the middle of such a lesson and caught in between Anne and Jane Andrews.

"What do you think about it, Gilbert?" Jane prodded, her voice fierce. She and Anne were in the middle of a friendly standoff about disciplining students. "Don't you think there are some children who really need a whipping now and then?"

Anne turned on him, her wide grey eyes probing his surprised face. Her cheeks were flushed, spreading a scarlet hue across her freckles that could even rival her red hair. It was a frequent occurrence whenever Anne argued for something she was passionate about, and Gilbert thought the blush suited her quite nicely.

"Don't you think," Anne argued earnestly, managing to glance at Jane quickly before turning her attention back to Gilbert, "that it's a cruel, barbarous thing to whip a child…any child?"

As a matter of fact, Gilbert did not think so. But he certainly wasn't about to confess so to Anne, and have to face her disappointment. Disappointing Anne was worse than angering her, and as of late, he'd felt that he had been doing more of the former than the latter.

"Well…there's something to be said on both sides," he said finally, sounding more unsure of himself than either Jane or Anne had. He paused, noticing Anne's eyes narrow slightly, and drew in a breath. "I don't believe in whipping children much. I think, as you say Anne, that there are better ways of managing as a rule, and that corporal punishment should be a last resort. But on the other hand, as Jane says, I believe there is an occasional child who can't be influenced in any other way and who, in short, needs a whipping and could be improved by it. Corporal punishment as a last resort is to be my rule."

It was a very diplomatic answer, and Gilbert hoped it would please both sides. However, diplomacy was not what Anne wanted. She looked at him, disappointment emanating from every muscle in her face, and Gilbert felt the both his shoulders and his heart sag.

Beside him, Jane said something, but Gilbert wasn't listening. His attention was focused solely on Anne and her unmistakable dissatisfaction. After a moment, she turned from Gilbert and said, "I shall never whip a child. I feel sure it isn't either right or necessary."

Gilbert should have thought that Anne's talk was slightly hypocritical, for she had once punished him by cracking a slate over his head, but he didn't. Instead, he ruminated over Anne's wholly good heart, and that just the thought of hurting a child hurt her.

Jane was still arguing with Anne, questioning her hypothetical disciplinary methods, causing Anne to straighten her slender shoulders and raise her chin slightly. "I'd rather have my pupils love me and look back to me in after years as a real helper than be on the roll of honor," Anne announced, referring to the annual teaching inspection organized by the board of trustees.

"Wouldn't you punish children at all, when they misbehaved?" asked a curious Gilbert, desperate to know the inner recesses of Anne's mind.

Anne nodded. "Oh, yes," she told him. "I suppose I shall have to, although I know I'll hate to do it. But you can keep them in at recess or stand them on the floor or give them lines to write."

Jane looked from Gilbert to Anne, a slight smile forming on her face. "I suppose," she began, her voice sly and full of mirth, "you won't punish the girls by making them sit with the boys?"

A wide, floppy grin spread across Gilbert's face as he looked at Anne rather unabashedly. To his delight, she smiled back, clearly remembering the day that Mr. Phillips had forced Anne to sit with Gilbert. Anne had been mortified, and she had refused to return to school for months afterwards.

Minutes later, the three of them said their goodbyes, each walking in separate directions towards their respective homesteads. Gilbert turned north, and then paused momentarily to look over his shoulder. Anne was walking merrily in the direction of Green Gables, her eyes lifted upwards towards the stars and her head in the clouds. Gilbert watched her for a long moment before shaking his head and turning back to home.

xxx

Gilbert stared out across the small classroom, and twenty pairs of childish eyes stared back at him. They were extremely attentive to his every move, which filled Gilbert with a mix of anxiety and gratitude.

His first day had not gone perfectly, but it had gone well. He stumbled over a few names on the roll—one a disadvantage of teaching in a town he had not grown up in was that he did not know every student he taught. The girls—even the young ones—stared up at him in awe of both his looks and his amiable, authoritative personality, and the boys respected him, perhaps for the same reasons.

At the beginning of the day, little Emma Conner had stridden confidently up to Gilbert's desk, a bright red apple in her hands. She was seven years old, and when she smiled at Gilbert her lips turned over the empty gums where her two front teeth had once been.

"Here you go, Teacher," she said, handing over the fruit delicately. "Mother wanted me to welcome you to White Sands with one of our apples."

Gilbert smiled gratefully and accepted the apple accordingly. "Thank you so much," he told her, and she beamed. "And be sure to thank your mother for me as well."

Afterwards, Emma returned to her designated seat and Gilbert called the class to order. He held their rapt attention as he guided them through their testaments, followed by readers and then math problems. As they read silently, Gilbert sat down at his desk, picked up his bright, uneaten apple, and stared out at the young minds whose education he was now responsible for.

Isaac Wright's tongue stuck out of the side of his mouth as he worked diligently on his slate. Clara Kirk—a young, teenage girl whose disposition was not unlike Ruby Gillis's—giggled as Freddy McGinnis tossed her a note from across the aisle. Tommy Blewett, whom Gilbert heard had quite a reputation for troublemaking, was currently studying his reader, but every once and awhile he would glance up at Gilbert. Flora Jane Spencer, the biological daughter of Mrs. Spencer, sat in the back row, her cheeks turning pink whenever Gilbert caught her looking at him.

Gilbert had been nervous upon entering the White Sands schoolhouse for the first time. He wondered if his students would hate him, if he would fail as a schoolmaster…if he would have to use corporal punishment on his first day, disappointing Anne forever. Yet he soon learned that his fears were unfounded, and the day passed rather splendidly, as though it was a dream Gilbert was merely passing through.

At the end of the day, Emma Conner hugged him and promised to see him tomorrow, a slip of paper fell out of Freddy McGinnis's pocket as he left the classroom, and Lily Jones tugged on Flora Jane's braid so hard that she cried aloud. Since Lily was Flora Jane's adoptive sister and class had already been let out, Gilbert let the act go undisciplined.

He whistled a low tune as he packed up for the day, stopping to pick up Freddy's before he left. He meant to merely throw it away, but idle curiosity got the better of him and Gilbert found himself unfolding it. Your hair is awful pretty, it read. Gilbert could not help the smile that spread across his face as he tossed it into the wastebasket.

During his time in White Sands, Gilbert was boarding with Mr. and Mrs. Bloom, a middle-aged couple who were eager to take in a boarder after their only child and son had gotten married the previous summer and moved to Toronto. They were both extremely friendly and welcoming, brashly outspoken yet easy to get along with. Their forwardness was the exact opposite of what Gilbert was used to, as his parents were both very soft-spoken unless Gilbert crossed one of them, which happened rarely. Yet Gilbert found that he enjoyed his time with the Blooms immensely, and when the first week of school was over, he almost regretted that he had to leave them for Avonlea.

Almost.

On the way home, Gilbert made what he told himself was an unplanned detour—even though it had, in fact, been entirely planned—to Green Gables. He made it just after dinnertime, when the stars began to twinkle and the moon winked down at Prince Edward Island. Gilbert, who hadn't intended for his visit to be a long sojourn, was thankful that Anne was sitting on the Green Gables porch when he rode up to the house. Her face lit up when she saw him, and she stood up immediately, walking over to greet him as he jumped from his buggy.

"Gil!" she said happily, gripping his arms. "I wasn't expecting to see you until tomorrow at our A.V.I.S. meeting—this certainly is a surprise."

"A good one, I hope," Gilbert laughed.

Anne nodded her head, causing some of her small red curls to fall from their binding. "I was beginning to get rather lonesome out here, although the stars are fine company to keep."

"I can't stay long, I'm afraid," Gilbert told her. "I'm expected home soon and I'm sure my mother has a feast set out for my return."

Anne chuckled, thinking of Mrs. Blythe. She had never had dinner at the Blythe homestead, but she'd heard talk that Mrs. Blythe was an astounding cook. "I'm sure she has," Anne agreed. Together, they had walked up the steps of the porch and sat down beside one another on an outdoor sofa.

"I want to hear all about your first week teaching, Anne," Gilbert said softly.

"There isn't much to tell—yet," Anne replied, looking out at the sunset in the distance, behind the tips of the pine trees. "The children are little angels, although I'm sorry to say the same cannot be said for their parents. A very stern Mrs. Donnell paid me a visit on my first day. Mrs. Lynde says she's crazy, but I'm inclined to say that she's just eccentric."

Gilbert nodded. "Well, it's nice to hear that your students are behaving," he said. There was a gleam in his eye that Anne knew well—it meant that a teasing remark was on the tip of his tongue. "I suppose you haven't had to punish any of them, then?"

"I kept Anthony Pye in at lunch on Thursday," Anne admitted. "He's quite the Pye, but I'm determined to charm him."

Gilbert gazed at her from underneath his eyelashes, not bothering to hide his adoration. Anne noticed and looked away, but Gilbert foolishly persisted. "You could charm anyone, Anne."

Anne looked down at her hands, which were folded neatly in her lap. At once, Gilbert realized his mistake, but it was far too late to take it back. "I'm sure my determination will eventually win his respect," Anne said at last. "How is White Sands?"

"Oh, it's fine," Gilbert answered, eager to make up for the awkwardness in their conversation. "One of my students brings me a fresh apple every morning and gives me a hug before she leaves every day."

Anne laughed. "It sounds like she fancies you, Mr. Blythe."

"Oh, I don't think so. She's seven." The sun had fully disappearing beneath the wooded landscape, and Gilbert rose from his seat. "I should make my way home now, Anne," he told her regretfully.

"Yes," Anne agreed, standing as well. "I'll see you tomorrow for the meeting?"

Gilbert nodded and smiled at her. He wouldn't miss an A.V.I.S. meeting for the world. Then they said their farewells, and Gilbert returned to his buggy. Anne watched from the porch, one hand shielding her eyes, as Gilbert rode away.

xxx

A cool breeze blew through the Green Gables kitchen, a sure sign that winter was quickly approaching. The house was quiet, a rare occurrence ever since Marilla had adopted Davy and Dora Keith. Anne and Gilbert were bent over some schoolbooks and lessons from their correspondence classes, and while their intention had been to focus on school, the two of them found themselves discussing ambitions and fancies alike.

Gilbert had always held high ambitions although he did not yet have the means to achieve them—school, and then a mildly successful career along with the family to take care of were first and foremost in his mind. Yet until recently he hadn't a clue as to what career he wanted to pursue. Now he knew, and he'd been meaning to tell Anne since he had decided. She would be the first to know.

"I've made up my mind, Anne," he said slowly. "I'm going to be a doctor."

"Why, that's very noble," Anne told him. "I think you would make a splendid doctor."

"Well, it's a splendid profession. A fellow has to fight something all through life…didn't somebody once define man as a fighting animal?…and I want to fight disease and pain and ignorance…which are all members one of another. I want to do my share of honest, real work in the world, Anne…add a little to the sum of human knowledge that all the good men have been accumulating since it began. The folks who lived before me have done so much for me that I want to show my gratitude by doing something for the folks who will live after me. It seems to me that is the only way a fellow can get square with his obligations to the race."

Anne looked at him, thinking over his words, but after a moment it was clear she was lost to the fancies of her mind. "I'd like to add some beauty to life," she said with a dreamy sigh. "I don't exactly want people to know more…though I know that is the noblest ambition…but I'd love to make them have a pleasanter time because of me…to have some little joy or happy thought that would never have existed if I hadn't been born."

Gilbert could do nothing else but stare at her. Anne was in some far-off place…a kingdom of beauty, perhaps…and she did not notice his admiring gaze. "I think you're fulfilling that ambition every day," Gilbert told her appreciatively.

xxx

Gilbert sat in the parlor of his parents' home, pouring over a mathematics textbook with a pencil in one hand and piece of paper in the other. It was odd, to be both a student and a teacher, but Gilbert was getting by easily and preparing himself for college…if he ever made enough money to go.

Mrs. Blythe was in the kitchen, preparing dinner for both Gilbert and Mr. Blythe, who was out in the fields with their hired boy. Gilbert had felt guilty at first, opting to stay in and study instead of helping his father out with the workload, but Mr. Blythe assured him that he understood. And so Gilbert sat in the parlor, textbook in front of him, as the sweet smells of his mother's cooking wafted through the house.

Just as the sun set, Mr. Blythe and the hired boy, Jimmy Barnes, clamored through the house. Mr. Blythe went straight to the kitchen to wash his hands while Jimmy stopped in front of Gilbert.

"You're a member of that improvement society, right?" he asked Gilbert, who squinted up at him. It was hard adjusting from small text to a person's face.

"President of the improvement society, as a matter of fact," Gilbert told him. "Why?"

"You haven't heard?" Jimmy said, kneeling beside Gilbert. "Joshua Pye finished paintin' the hall today. Why on Earth did you guys go with that awful blue?"

Gilbert's eyebrows drew together in confusion. The Avonlea Village Improvement Society, of which he was president even though Anne was the brains behind the operation, had taken it upon themselves to paint the shabby town hall a very pretty green. Joshua Pye, of Carmody, had been commissioned to paint it, and he was scheduled to finish that day. Gilbert, who was leaving for White Sands the next evening, had made plans to drive past as he left Avonlea.

"Blue? It's supposed to be green," he told Jimmy.

Jimmy let out a long, low whistle. "Well then, somebody made a mistake. The hall's a bright blue—bluer than anything I've ever seen, I can tell you that."

Gilbert dropped his pencil and closed his textbook in one swift movement. He excused himself from Jimmy's presence and ran out the house, leaving his coat on the rack.

"Gilbert Blythe!" his mother shouted from the kitchen. "Be home by dinner!"

For the first time in his life, Gilbert paid no mind to his mother. He ran faster than he ever had—certainly faster than he had for the recreational football games he played occasionally—and by the time Fred Wright joined him, he was nearly out of breath.

"Have you seen the hall, Gil?" he asked, managing to keep pace with Gilbert's long legs.

"No," Gilbert answered. "I'm off to Green Gables now. Anne ought to know if it's true or not."

"Mrs. Lynde saw it, and she told everybody," Fred said. "We should have known better than to trust the Pyes."

By the time they arrived at the gate of Green Gabes, a crowd had formed. Anne was at the center, as expected, and she was surrounded by Diana and Jane.

"It isn't true, surely, Anne?" he exclaimed as soon as he was within earshot of Anne. She looked positively despondent, and she didn't need to speak to confirm Gilbert's question.

"It's true," she replied. Her expression was forlorn and her voice was tragic, encapsulating every depressing feeling one could possibly have. "Mrs. Lynde called on her way from Carmody to tell me. Oh, it is simply dreadful! What is the use of trying to improve anything?"

More people arrived, and soon they all dispersed. By the time Gilbert had returned home for dinner, a cloud of gloom had formed above his head, and he sullenly ate the food that his mother set out in front of him. The next day, as he drove to back to White Sands, he passed the horrid hall, and for the rest of the week, he could not banish the awful image of the blue paint from his head.

xxx

The year ended and faded into a new one without further incident from A.V.I.S. Gilbert had spent most of the winter indoors with his studies and his teachings, and with the exception of his friends and family, Gilbert had become marginally less involved in Avonlea affairs.

Gilbert was making good, hard-earned money as a teacher, and if his calculations were correct, he would have enough money to attend college in two or three more years. Despite his monetary issues, thoughts of his future prospects excited him. They were only marred by the fact that Anne was staying in Avonlea indefinitely.

One evening in February, Gilbert met up with Anne and Jane near the edge of the Cuthbert property. He had not been in Avonlea long and had yet to catch up with the latest going-ons.

"Hello, Anne, Jane," he greeted, raising his hand to wave at them even though they were close by.

"Hi, Gil," Jane greeted. "Anne and I have just been discussing the merits of corporal punishment."

Inwardly, Gilbert groaned. He had no desire to rehash the old argument that had disappointed Anne so grievously.

"I still believe that corporal punishment is no means to keep order," Anne defended, her face flushing slightly at Jane's gloated expression. "Anthony Pye was just one exception. The only exception."

Gilbert's eyes widened. "Anne…did you whip Anthony Pye?"

Anne moaned, dropping her face in her hands. When she looked back up at Gilbert, her eyes were wide with regret. "It had been such a Jonah day, Gilbert, and Anthony had been such a nuisance! I assure you I felt absolutely sullen afterwards, and I shall never whip another pupil. But it did seem to earn Anthony's respect. He's positively chipper whenever he sees me!"

"I suppose you charmed him after all," Gilbert said, resisting the urge to laugh.

"By whipping him!" Anne moaned. "I've certainly learned my lesson, and I hope Anthony Pye has learned his."

Gilbert finally let out a chuckle at Anne's goodhearted melodramatics, and he felt quite smug in the fact that Anne had whipped one of her pupils before he did. Yet he said nothing, and he spent the rest of the evening enjoying the good company of Jane and Anne, who cheered up considerably after the subject of corporal punishment was laid to rest forever.

Reviews are better than ripe apples on the first day of school!