"Oh, but it's good to be alive and to be going home."

Anne smiled gently as she leaned against the white fence, her eyes fixed on the white house before her. Her heart was still beating fast from her exercise and the musing that had followed it, but she was breathing steadily now, determined to calm down her nerves completely before walking inside and meeting Marilla in a rather close proximity.

Her sadness wasn't gone; but at least now she felt strong enough to believe and hope that it soon could be.

"Who are you talking to again?" a voice roused her from her meditation. "Bell isn't here, and I'm definitely not listening."

"Jerry!" she exclaimed, surprised, turning rapidly towards the boy, only too see him smirk at her with careless satisfaction; she huffed, resigned. "Will you ever learn that it's wrong to eavesdrop?"

"How can I eavesdrop when I'm not listening to you? I've just said that I wasn't."

Anne frowned at him. "If you weren't, how could you tell I was talking at all?"

"I don't need to listen to 'ear you. You talk way too loudly for your own good."

Anne snorted in response, deciding to ignore Jerry's words as well as the smug grin he was wearing, clearly happy with his own show of wit. She climbed on the fence and jumped off it, landing swiftly on the Cuthbert ground.

"I don't think it's very ladylike to climb fences like this," the boy remarked again, resting on the fork he'd been carrying. "Personally, I don't think you're much of a lady anyway, but Miss Cuthbert would definitely scold you for doing it. Or are you going to play a boy again?"

"First of all, stop saying definitely, and second, no, I am not. But I'm also not going to walk around the yard only because I happen to be wearing a dress."

"Must be uncomfortable."

"It's perfectly alright, thank you."

"For you, maybe. But even if you're not a lady, you're still a girl and girls don't do that."

"You mean, Diana Barry doesn't?" Anne asked in a sudden rush of inspiration, grinning teasingly. Her strategy had worked perfectly, and Jerry looked away, mumbling something about her being ridiculous and blushing madly as he did, to which Anne laughed quietly on her part and ruffled the boy's hair playfully. Jerry only glared at her.

She set off towards the house right after, humming nothing in particular, trying hard to keep her mind focused on the memory of flustered Jerry rather than on the events from during and after her classes. Just like her little scheme from moments before, it worked remarkably well – until she reached the porch and stopped, realising she might need a plan for this next encounter, too.

She didn't know what time it was. True, she had left school earlier than usually, but she had no idea how big the difference really was, nor how much her journey had taken her. She might have run, too, and run fast; but she had also spent quite a while pondering over her own misfortunes and how much that had taken remained a perfect mystery.

All she could do was hope that she was not too late.

With a deep, calming breath Anne pushed the door and crossed the threshold, ears strained expectantly for any kind of indication. Was Marilla at home? Was it the tea time or had she missed it already – and if she had, how late she was exactly?

Luckily for her, all of her questions were soon to be answered as Marilla was indeed at home, in the kitchen and just about to pour the water for their upcoming tea. Anne sighed with relief and began to undress quietly.

Her Guardian noticed her as soon as she did.

"You're home early," she commented with the slightest surprise, so well concealed that it could only be observed by those who knew her best. Anne hung her hat on the rack and turned abruptly towards her.

"Oh, right. Miss Stacy let us go earlier," she explained vigorously. "She said that whoever would finish the final exercise for today could leave before the usual time and, well, that's exactly what I did."

Marilla raised an eyebrow and smiled teasingly at her ward. "And you didn't stay to discuss another theory of yours with her? Why, that would be the first time!"

"She was busy helping others at the time," Anne said hesitantly, biting her lip. "And I'm feeling a little tired, so I thought it best to take the chance and head home when I could. I'll have plenty of time to talk to her after the weekend."

"Tired? And why would you be?"

"It has just been a long day, I suppose. With an early start in the morning and quite some work at school, it's only natural that I feel a little weary. Now, what can I do to help?"

"You can start with lifting your hat from the floor," Marilla's voice echoed with the usual sternness as she waved a cloth towards the rack. "It fell down as soon as you turned around, but I suppose you were too caught up with whatever is going through that head of yours to notice. Truly, Anne, I thought you'd get rid of at least some of your skittishness by now."

"Oh, but I was only focused on what you were saying and you surely you can't blame me for that!" Anne responded with a small chuckle. "But of course, I'll go fetch my hat immediately."

"You should also carry your books to your room instead of leaving them on the table around meal time," Marilla was unforgivable. "Put them in place and do the same with your apron, and then you can come downstairs and prepare the tea."

Anne nodded and did as she was told, feeling Marilla's eyes on her. She walked towards the kitchen table and glanced up with a grin. "I feel like if I was back to the first weeks of my stay here, with you telling me exactly what and how to do. It feels strange – but somehow nice at the same time."

"Well, I wouldn't have done it if you behaved like a sensible girl I naively hoped you had finally become. What is it with you today, child?"

"Oh no, now you're calling me child too, just like you did at first," Anne gasped. "I hope you're not thinking of sending me away again?"

What was meant to be an innocent joke somehow managed to stir her up when an unpleasant thought crossed her mind that even if ungrounded, the idea wasn't as queer as it might have seemed.

"Now, what nonsense is this," Marilla's answer brought her back to reality. "I've called you a child because that's what you still are, and for no other reason. Although you're right, it feels strange to me as well, when I think about it."

"You're going to keep calling me Anne, then?" the girl laughed shortly, a little more at ease now.

Marilla pursed her lips, hiding a smile of her own. "I am, but unless you get down to fulfilling your duties at last, I am going to make sure I pronounce it with no e in it. Now, scat!"

Anne laughed openly this time and gathered her books, before running towards and up the stairs. She was back in no time, ready to do whatever was expected of her. She filled the kettle and set it over the hearth, prepared the tea and preserves, and bread, all in perfect pace and order, as if she'd been trying to show her Guardian that she had indeed grown in both skills and wisdom and that the many lessons life – and Marilla herself – had given her, were not in vain in the least.

The truth was, Anne was barely thinking of impressing anyone at the moment. If she had, it would have ended like many times before, with her being so focused on her quest that she would have forgotten about half of the things in the process, probably breaking a cup or two before even getting close to the end of it. Now, however, she was merely tending to the task she had practised enough times to feel more than comfortable doing it.

Once more, she thought it was exactly what home should feel like.

She was done with it soon, and all that was lacking was Matthew's presence – but that inconvenience was soon gone as the man in question had appeared in the room. They all sat down, said their prayers, and began to eat, all of them enjoying the peacefulness of the moment, Anne most of all.

"You're awful quiet today, Anne," Matthew remarked eventually, looking fondly at the girl next to him. "I was hoping for some more of your school stories, but it seems like it was rather boring today."

"Oh, no, not at all," she protested wholeheartedly. "It's never boring, not with Miss Stacy anyway, and I think I've reached the point where I could appreciate school for its own sake, even if the teacher wasn't any good. Of course, it is far nicer to have Miss Stacy over Mr Phi... over anyone else, but I am convinced I would still manage to find joy in learning itself, even if with a little less enthusiasm. I don't think my ambitions would ever allow me to be truly bored again."

"Isn't that great, then," Matthew commented with a smile.

"It most certainly is! I think it's delightful to have ambitions. I surely am glad I have such a lot."

"Speaking of ambitions," Marilla joined the conversation as she put down her cup with a small clink. "How are your grades? Are you still coming first in class?"

"Well -" Anne hesitated. "It's really hard to tell, now that Gilbert has given up his extra studies and is back on our course on normal terms. He can be a rival, you know, and sometimes it's difficult to keep up with him – he definitely is better at geometry but I think I can safely say I'm considerably better at English – and the rest is more or less a draw, I guess."

Marilla hummed in acknowledgement, but said no more. Anne was once again left to her own musing, something she very much appreciated, although at the same time, she thought it would have been a little easier if she had a conversation to hold onto. Preferably a conversation that would not involve Gilbert Blythe in it.

She clung to the first idea that came to her mind. "How was your trip to Carmody, Matthew?"

The man looked up at her. "It was good enough, alright. Nothing in particular to tell, though, I'm afraid."

Anne nodded, a little disappointed. She hadn't expected Matthew to spoil her with stories, of course, but she had hoped his answer would have been at least a little more than the two sentences he had just produced. She sighed and decided to focus on her meal.

"I think I saw Gilbert Blythe circling around Lover's Lane," Matthew threw in unexpectedly some time later, right when Anne had managed to chase the last of her thoughts of the boy away. She jerked up her head and fixed her eyes on Matthew once more, while he added, "Though I don't know what he could be doing there at this time of day."

"He must have decided he had too much time on his hands and taken a longer path home," she offered quietly. "Although why he would walk by Green Gables, I can't hope to know."

"Gilbert doesn't seem to be a boy with too much time at all," Marilla opposed. "He may not be studying that much anymore, but he still has a farm to look for and such work is never really done."

"Maybe he just assumed he deserved a break this time," Anne explained coolly, determined not to let her own agitation show. "He finished earlier, too."

"Did he, now?"

"Yes. We were..." she hesitated. "We were sort of working together on this particular task, so we obviously finished around the same time. He needed to finish something, so he left after me – I don't know when exactly, but it couldn't have been much later."

Marilla raised her eyebrows at her. "And how is working with Gilbert?"

"Enlightening," Anne answered, with a little too much sarcasm ringing in her voice. "So much that I don't think I could handle it again any time soon."

"Why, you sound terribly harsh now," Marilla frowned. "I thought you two were getting along. What did poor Gilbert do this time to make you speak of him like this?"

"Oh, nothing new really, although I can hardly agree to call him poor. We were interpreting a poem, and I might have been a little too focused on my own thoughts, so he decided to catch my attention by calling me a vegetable again. I suppose I should be grateful that he didn't pull my braid this time."

"A vegetable?" Matthew asked in amused astonishment.

"A very specific, orange vegetable."

"Good Heaven," Marilla sighed deeply, raising her eyes to the ceiling, as if she prayed to the Lord above that what she'd heard wasn't true. "I hope you didn't break another slate on his head, did you?"

Anne straightened up with dignity and denied, "No, I didn't. I have come to learn that physical violence of this kind is not a proper way of solving problems. Besides, if it hadn't worked the first time, there was little chance it would be any different now."

"Thank goodness," Marilla sighed, visibly relaxed. "It was bad enough the first time it happened."

"I told you, Marilla, that I never make the same mistake twice. Now if you excuse me -" Anne said, rising from her seat. "I have some studying to do. If people want to remember me as nothing more than a red-head, then so be it; but I want them to remember me as an educated one at least."