A/N: Ciryl, I was afraid the whole watch repair thing might be confusing, so I edited it to make it more clear. Also, Anne met Philippa in chapter 3 I think...or possibly 4...when she was at Redmond looking for the scholarship information. Thanks for your review!

Ipegasus, I'm a little confused about your Sense & Sensibility comments. I've seen the movie and read the book, but while I was writing this thing I didn't have it in mind at all. The only thing I can think of in this story that resembles S&S is when Roy gives Anne the pocket-sized Tennyson book. Didn't Willoughby give Marianne a book of Shakespeare sonnets? At any rate, I think the concept of a man wooing a lady by giving her a book of poetry is pretty common, and I certainly don't consider myself copying Austen by putting that in my story. Austen is my favorite author - I'd never intentionally use her ideas without giving her credit. But you also said that you have to keep telling yourself the characters in my story are LMM's and not Austen's, which I find bewildering. Which characters in my story remind you of ones from Sense & Sensibility? I guess it's possible that I unknowingly incorporated Austen's work into my story, but as for the characters, I'm trying very hard to make them remain true to LMM's representation. If you could give me some specific examples of how you think my story is similar to S&S, it would be helpful. Thanks for leaving the review though!

When Anne awoke the next morning, she was feeling much more sensible and calm than she had the day before. She was grateful for this. She resolved to think no more of Gilbert Blythe or his college friends. True, she had stayed up half the night writing the scholarship essay. And, she could not help admitting, it was probably the best thing she'd ever written. But that was no reason to get one's hopes up. The best essay written by a poorly educated orphan would doubtlessly look quaint and sappy when compared to the profound musings of erudite college students.

Besides, even if she did somehow win the scholarship, despite Gilbert's kindness, she had no reason to believe that anyone else would want to be her friend. She knew nothing of the rules of socialization, except what she had picked up in various novels and from working at the shop. She would be clumsy and awkward. Thank goodness she had come to her senses and decided against going to that picnic.

She went about her daily business, resolving to put all thoughts of friendship and Gilbert Blythe out of her head. She was surprised to hear a knock on the shop door below; everyone knew the shop was closed on Sundays, and she never had any visitors. She went down curiously and opened the door.

"There you are!" cried a radiant Philippa. "Honestly, Anne, did you really think I'd let you skip this picnic? Why, when Gilbert told me he ran into the red haired girl called Anne who works at the shop and invited her, I almost died. I was so afraid I'd never see you again after yesterday. My, how large your eyes get! But I know I'm acting like a fool. Anne Shirley, when I saw you yesterday I simply knew we had to be friends. And trust me honey, if you knew me at all, you'd realize what a big deal it is that I made up my mind so quickly on the matter. Well, what's the hold up? Let's go!"

Could it be that this pretty young woman had actually come to invite her, Anne, the poor orphan girl who'd hardly had a friend in her life, to a picnic? Anne's eyes brimmed with tears. Without realizing it, all resolutions to avoid the picnic and Gilbert's friends flew away from her.

"Oh, Miss Gordon – "

"Don't you 'Miss Gordon' me. I'm Phil; always have been, always will be."

"Very well, Phil then. I'd love to go, really, but I haven't anything to wear. Or to bring. I'd be an embarrassment."

"Nonsense. It's a picnic, Anne Shirley, not a ball. And the food and everything is all provided for. Our housekeeper took care of that. All you need bring is your lovely self."

Anne smiled, grabbed a shawl, and the two headed out.

"Now, I have to give you all the juice before we get there," said Phil significantly.

"The juice?"

"Absolutely. At the picnic will be all our most important comrades: me, Gil, Christine, Charlie Sloane, Moody Spurgeon, Roy Gardiner, Fred Wright, and Priscilla Grant. What a relief to have another girl in the clan!"

"Priscilla is a lovely name," said Anne.

"And a lovely person. You two will get along charmingly; I've no doubt. It's Christine you have to worry about."

"Really?" asked Anne curiously. "She came into the shop yesterday with Gilbert. She seemed nice enough."

"Ugh, sickeningly nice. No, she's harmless. But I have it out for her because she's secretly engaged to Gil."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"It's hard to explain. Once you know her, you'll understand. Christine's a sweet girl and wouldn't harm a fly. But when you get down to it, there really isn't much to her. Gil could do better."

"She is mightily pretty though. What I would have given to have raven locks and a rose leaf complexion in my earlier years. What I'd still give!" she added.

"I'm ten times prettier than her, Anne Shirley, even if I have chocolate tresses instead of shiny black ones. Have I said something shocking?" she said, noticing the surprised look on Anne's face. "Honey, I am ten times prettier than her. It's a fact. I'm not conceited. I'm just telling it like it is."

Anne silently agreed that most people would probably find Phil's beauty more stunning than Christine's. But she personally would always prefer the black haired, creamy skin combination.

"Well, she must have some merit if Gilbert is engaged to her."

"She has all the merit Gil could justifiably ask for. The two have known each other for centuries. Their families are close friends. Also, Christine's dad is a famous doctor, and will likely be of great service to Gil in his medical career. Well, there's no use hiding the truth from you, Anne Shirley. I'll tell you right now, though I haven't admitted this to another soul. I trust your undying secrecy, naturally," she said importantly. "Anne, I mean to have Gilbert Blythe for myself."

Anne's heart twisted funnily. "Are you in love with him?"

"Of course I am," said Phil practically. "As much in love as a girl like me can ever afford to be. Anyway, I'm far more in love with Gil than Gil is with Christine."

Anne remembered the look of annoyance that had flashed over Gilbert's face in the shop the other day, when Christine nagged him about the concert. Perhaps Phil was right. Anne was a little disappointed. Though she'd only known Gilbert a very short time, she would have guessed he'd be the type to marry for nothing short of passionate love.

"But Phil," Anne said suddenly very strongly, "You are friends with Christine. To go behind her back in this way and secretly plan to steal her fiancé is a terrible breech of loyalty. You know it is."

Phil sighed. "When you put it like that, it does sound mighty villainous. But don't elevate my friendship with Christine to something it isn't. She's a nice girl, but we're not close. Not like Priscilla and me, for instance. The only reason I ever see her is because she's engaged to Gil, one of my closest chums. Also, they haven't announced their engagement yet. So technically Gil is still fair game. What? Anne, it isn't as if I'm artfully plotting against her. I simply mean to sit in the background, flirt with Gil no more and no less than I flirt with any of the other boys, look dashingly pretty, and wait 'til he comes to his senses and pitches her."

Anne could not help laughing at that.

"Suit yourself, then," she said. "My, what a lovely day it is! Probably the last lovely day of the year," said Anne mournfully. "I love Autumn, but it does rather shrivel in comparison with the new born glory of Spring and the quiet warmth of Summer."

Intuitively, Phil grabbed Anne's hand and squeezed it. "Anne Shirley, you are dreamy. Oh, look! We're almost there. Lord, I can see Charlie Sloane's goggly eyes from this distance more clearly than Christine's entire head. Stop fussing over yourself, Anne" she said, noticing Anne's nervous smoothing of her hair. "You look very pretty. I always did admire red hair, though I'd look rather a fright with it, don't you think? Ah, here we are."

Gilbert's face brightened when he saw the two of them walking towards the river. He ran over to them and shook Anne's hand eagerly.

"We had all but given you up, Anne, when Phil insisted on going to fetch you. I'm so glad you came."

"I'll not lie that I did desperately want you, Anne," said Phil. "But Gil virtually made me go after you. He would have gone himself, of course, but…" she stopped suddenly, as Christine had just walked over.

"The shopkeeper gave you the day off, Miss Shirley?" Christine asked with the utmost politeness.

"We are never open on Sundays," Anne replied.

"How nice. Gilbert, do come lend me a hand with this fishing pole. I'm so clumsy with it!" she cried, awkwardly trying to cast the wire into the river.

Gilbert closed his eyes suddenly, as if trying to muster patience, and then went to help her. Phil looked at Anne and raised her eyebrows significantly.

Just then the other members of the "clan" came over. Phil performed the necessary introductions, and everyone except Gilbert and Christine – the latter of which was still struggling pathetically with the fishing pole – sat down on a large soft blanket that Priscilla had brought.

"Isn't this lovely? To think, the next time we have a picnic I'll likely have to put on my long underwear," said Phil scandalously. "What a bore! Charlie Sloane, do stop staring at poor Anne so intensely. We don't want to scare her off."

Charlie's face went from white to crimson, which only deepened when Anne gave him a sympathetic smile. After the group finished eating, it was decided by the boys that a game of football was in order.

"Anne, you must play with us!" Phil said, grabbing onto Anne's hands and pulling her up.

"But I don't know how…"

"Nonsense, it's the easiest thing in the world. Gil will tell you everything you need to know about it."

"But Phil, is it entirely, well…proper…for ladies to play football?"

"Well it's not entirely improper, and of course there won't be any tackling. So, are you in?"

She didn't really have much of a choice, for at that moment, Gilbert came bounding over, grabbed her hand, and led her over to the side of the field, where he proceeded to explain football to her.

"I'm not sure I understand at all," Anne confessed after he had finished. "But, at any rate, I'll have a fun time humiliating myself in front of you all."

"I'm sure you won't humiliate yourself, Anne – you've got quite an athletic build. You'll be great."

"I don't think so. I have a bad history with balls. Whenever a ball is present, it is sure to come slamming into my skull."

"Well then you better steer clear of Phil – she has the worst aim of anyone I've ever seen."

The two shared a chummy laugh. Just then Gilbert heard Christine calling for him.

"Gil, are you really going to play football with them? Won't you come read poetry with me under this lovely tree instead?"

"Christine, you know I'd love to, but we've already made the teams up – it'd spoil everything if I didn't play."

"I'm sure you're a fine football player," said Christine delicately, "but do you really mean to suggest that the game couldn't go on without you?"

"No, of course not, but – "

"Then come," she commanded, with a steely smile.

Anne perceived the slightest flexing of Gilbert's jaw, as he reluctantly began to walk over towards Christine. He had taken a few steps when he turned to look back at Anne. Anne, smiling charmingly, raised her eyebrow ever so slightly – almost imperceptibly – as if to say "I know you'd rather play football with me than read poetry with her, but you made your choice, and I shan't regret you in the least." Anne did not consciously realize that she felt that way about the situation. But Gilbert read the expression on her face, and in a moment made up his mind that he would make that stubborn redhead regret him – or, possibly, he thought, his mind racing with a sudden new awareness, she wouldn't have to regret him, perhaps…

He opened his mouth to say something – he hardly knew what – to Anne, but at that moment Roy Gardiner joined her. The two began chatting, and Gilbert felt there was no call for Anne to be so full of smiles and animation in her intercourse with Roy. Gilbert couldn't quite make out what they were saying to one another, but he saw Roy take off his watch and hand it to Anne, who began poking and prodding at it with great dexterity. What could the meaning of it be? After a few moments, she handed the watch back to Roy. He looked at it, his face lighting up into a smile, and he shouted out to her, "This beggar maid shall be my queen!"

Gilbert blinked. Had Roy Gardiner just called Anne Shirley a beggar maid? He couldn't wait to see the set-down Anne would surely give him. But to his utter astonishment, her eyes sparkled as she looked up at him, clasping her hands.

"Why that's Keats!" yelled Christine, leaping up from her seat under the tree. She was in her element. "It's from 'The Beggar Lady' – I'm absolutely sure. I was reading it just last week – "

"It's Tennyson," Anne whispered, never once letting her gaze stray from Roy's bright blue eyes. "My favorite poet."

"You can't be serious!" Roy cried. "Tennyson is my favorite poet too! I never go anywhere without this." He pulled out a pocket-sized book, The Complete Works of Alfred Lord Tennyson. Anne beamed at him.

"You know what," he said suddenly, holding the book out to her. "I want you to have it."

"Me? Oh, no, I could never…"

"I insist. You fixed my watch just now, Anne. That watch was the last thing my father gave me before he died. After I accidentally went swimming with it last week, I was sure it would be ruined forever. But you fixed it!"

"Seriously Mr. Gardiner – Roy – it was the easiest thing in the world – any repair person could have done it just as well. We sell watches very similar to those in the shop. I can't take your book; I just can't."

But he would not relent, and before long Anne was clasping the book to her breast. Gilbert looked on for a few moments, and then, with a sigh, returned to Christine.