On the first day of December, Ingleside woke up to an early snowfall – and a telegram. A telegram had once been a terrible thing to receive – the folks at Ingleside had dreaded them – but now that the war was over they had learned again to expect good news. And they had all been expecting this telegram for some time – and the news it heralded.

"It is from Jem!" cried Mrs. Blythe. "Oh, read it, Gilbert, please!"

The message was:

BABY BOY BLYTHE BORN LAST PM STOP MOTHER AND BABY WELL

LETTER TO FOLLOW STOP JAMES BLYTHE

"Oh, if I only had wings!" cried the proud grandmother. "My imagination shall simply torment me without end until I see him! Do you think he will look like Little Jem, Gilbert? Oh, do you think he has red hair?"

"I hope so," twinkled the doctor – proud grandfather that he was.

Anne's imagination did not have to torment her for long. The promised letter arrived in two weeks, and with it, a photograph. The house was full to bursting with Blythes and Merediths and well-wishers from the Glen and beyond. By the time the letter had been in the house for a day it was nearly read to pieces!

"Faith's mouth," said John Meredith dreamily, looking over the picture. And unless he was mistaken there was something about this little boy's chin that reminded him of his lost Cecilia. How wonderful that she could live again in this little boy when she herself had been gone for so long!

"He has Jem's nose – my nose," said Anne Blythe, brimming with happiness. "Oh, I knew that nose would serve me well!"

"And Jem's ears, as well," was Susan's verdict. "And that is all that matters, Mrs. Dr. dear, for noses and all else have been known to change but ears never do."

"I think he looks like Walter," said Rilla, when she saw the photo. "He is fair, like Faith, but his eyes – there is something about the shape and the dreaminess of them. Jem writes that they are blue now, but he thinks they will be gray in the end."

That was not all Jem wrote.

"He is a good baby – he rarely ever cries. Faith and I expected him to be loud and naughty like us but he is quite contented to be quiet and simply take in everything around him. He wasn't an hour old before he held up his head and looked at me, and Mother – Dad – I felt that I knew him – had always known him – for once in my life I went weak at the knees. He's smart, too – always examining his fingers and toes and everything he sees. I tell you, I've never been prouder of anything as much as I am of Little Walt.

"Is that what they're calling him?" asked Rosemary Meredith eagerly.

"Yes, that's what we're calling him – Walter Blythe," the doctor read on. "It's a name that worked well for us before, didn't it? Tried and true is the best, I say. Faith wanted to name him Jonas for a moment. 'Who's Jonas?' I asked her.

"But we compromised, and we've tacked it on as his middle. Walter Jonas Blythe – I think it will wear well but there's no telling for sure until Susan makes her pronouncement. Our Hawaiian friends love him almost as much as we do and have taken to calling him 'Walaka' – that's Walter in their language. The bring gifts to our doorstep like the magi brought to the manger – they can barely afford to bring them but they do, and we dare not refuse them. The natives have never seen anything like our boy, with his blond hair and blue eyes. There is a legend that a baby with hair like the sun will be blessed by the gods – and I believe it. There is something in store for this young man-child of mine – something great. I am sure of it with a certainty that awes me.

"Tell Rilla to have her baby soon and to make it a boy, too so that he and Wally can be friends as well as cousins. Tell her I'm sorry we beat her to the punch again but we wanted to make sure parenthood was all it was cracked up to be. It is."

"And he promises to send photos of the christening," finished Mrs. Blythe – Grandmother Blythe.

At this Susan gave a sniff. She was still thinking of Jem's use of the plural when talking about deities, and was not entirely sure that a christening on an island of heathens would even be a proper christening. The doctor seemed to know what that sniff meant and his ever-present dimple deepened.

"The missionaries at Jem's hospital are Presbyterians, Susan," he said mock-seriously.

"Of a sort," said Susan without batting an eyelash.

"This calls for a celebration," said the Rev. Meredith, raising his glass. "To Walter Jonas Blythe, born half a world away – the first child of a new generation of Blythes and Merediths – and a new generation that will change the world. To him – and all of those children who will be!"

"To Walter," said Mrs. Blythe, after pressing her lips together in a smile of remberance. "May he live a long life and see all of his dreams come true."

"To Walter!" echoed Shirley.

"To Walter!" The doctor and Rosemary raised their glasses, and even Susan chimed in with their cheer.

"To Walter," repeated Rilla. "Oh – how I wish he was here."