"What are you doing, Gwen o'mine?" Grandfather asked fondly, wandering down to Rainbow Valley one afternoon to see his granddaughter sprawled full-length under one of the maple trees, elbows on the ground, chin propped up on her hands.

Though none of the Blythe children had ever had fair hair ("So common" Susan Baker used to sniff), if Grandfather squinted just a little bit he could almost pretend Gwen was her mother at age fifteen. Gwen inherited her colouring from her father's side of the family, but her slender figure and the shape of her face were very reminiscent of her mother—as was the breathless anticipation with which she greeted each new day, just waiting for its wonderful possibilities to come forth.

That anticipation had vanished from all his children during the War. Grandfather frowned and shook the thought away. He wouldn't let past sorrows ruin today.

Gwen looked up at him and beamed. She was still wearing her track uniform, sweat-stained and wrinkled though it was. "I've been watching a chipmunk, Grandfather. He's the cutest little thing I ever saw. He keeps darting out between the roots, then he sees me and darts back, and he can't quite make up his mind if I'm safe or not."

Grandfather stifled a groan as he lowered himself to the ground beside her. "Your Uncle Walter used to write letters between two chipmunks, when he was a lad. Susan saved all of them—I wonder what happened to them after she passed on? I'll have to see if your grandmother still has them."

"Oh, do! Jo would love to read them. That's just the sort of thing he would do. He's been writing letters from Teddy and Bluebell to the stuffed animals back home ever since we arrived, and he insists on mailing them every week, 'care of' Jeremy, who he left with strict instructions to see to it that the animals get them."

Grandfather laughed. "Will Jeremy have to break a window to keep that promise?"

"No, he slides them in under the door, and Jo is convinced that the animals will come downstairs and collect them. Phil and I are already planning that whichever of us gets to the house first, after we come home next winter, will quick grab the letters and take them up to Jo's room for him."

"You want to help him keep his fantasies alive," Grandfather nodded.

"As long as we possibly can," Gwen agreed firmly.

"That's good," Grandfather said. "I know it's not the fashion these days, but I truly think children should believe in fairies and the like as long as they can."

Gwen flipped over onto her back, looking up, up, up through the latticework of the green branches overhead to the blue sky. "It's easy to believe in fairies here," she said dreamily.

"I don't see fairies here," Grandfather said with a little sigh, "but I do see ghosts."

Gwen shuddered. "Ghosts? In our Rainbow Valley? I don't believe it!"

"These are good ghosts," Grandfather reassured her. "Not the sort of ghosts your grandmother and Diana Barry used to concoct." He pointed down to the brook. "There, you see, I can see a little red-headed chap fishing, with a brown boy sitting next to him, intently watching his every move."

"Uncle Jem and Uncle Shirley," Gwen said, catching on immediately.

"Underneath the White Lady," that old, venerable birch, "is your Uncle Walter as he was when he was Phil's age: black hair; silver eyes; white face; a dreamer of great dreams." Grandfather's voice quivered just slightly, and Gwen laid her slim white hand over his brown one where it lay on the green grass. Grandfather grasped it tight and continued in a stronger voice.

"He's reading his poetry to your mother, of course. She is all red hair and green eyes and freckled limbs, as young and beautiful as you are now, my Gwen. Rilla, with her curly reddish-brown hair and chubby legs, is hovering nearby jealously, wishing Walter would pay the same ('thame,' as she would have said) attention to her that he is to Di."

"And where is Aunt Nan?" Gwen asked, shivering just a little. It was the middle of the day—and the May sun was shining—but just the same, Grandfather's fancies unnerved her slightly.

Grandfather pointed to a patch of emerald moss. "There, lying on her back with her arms behind her nut-brown head, dreaming up some sort of fancy. Most likely she's imagining that she's an elvish princess on her couch of moss. The manse children and Leslie and Owen's two are nearby—I can hear them calling out their greetings—but it's our seven that I see."

"Seven?" Gwen wondered.

Grandfather refocused his gaze on her. "I don't suppose you've ever heard about Joy."

"Who is Joy?"

"Joyce Blythe—our first baby, your grandmother and me. Our little daughter who only lived one day." Grandfather's eyes were misty as he spoke. "We named her Joyce, and called her Joy for all the happiness she brought to our lives. Just one day … but it was a day of joy, Gwen."

Gwen felt tears well up in her own eyes. "Nobody ever told me about her," she whispered. "I always thought Uncle Jem was the first."

"Your grandmother and I never talked about her much, not even to each other, and certainly not to the children. They knew that there had been a baby before Jem who hadn't lived, and that was the end of it. None of them had ever met her, so it never seemed very real to them, I suppose."

Gwen wiped her eyes with the backs of her hand. "What was she like?"

"She had very fair skin—like yours—and great big grey-green eyes like Lee's. Her hair was very dark brown, like Aunt Nan's, and she was just perfect, Gwennie, except for the fact that she couldn't live."

"I'm sorry," Gwen said, her heart breaking over an ancient sorrow.

Grandfather cleared his throat. "Don't be. Your grandmother and I have lost two children, one at birth and one to war. Of the two, Joy's death is by far the easier to bear. Besides, I can still see her, along with the rest of my children's ghosts. She's over by Jem and Shirley, holding Shirley's hand and teasing Jem about something. He's pretending to ignore her, but I can see the smile lurking in the corner of his mouth. None of the children can resist their big sister."

As he spoke, Gwen could almost see the scene herself. She saw a young woman right about her own age, maybe a year or so older, wearing a white dress. Her brown hair was pulled back in a simple braid with a few wisps working their way loose to frame her face. Her eyes shone with the same luminescence that Mother's always did. Uncle Shirley—such a funny, sturdy little boy!—was looking at her with undisguised adoration, and Uncle Jem had given up trying to look indifferent and was laughing outright.

Then Joy lifted her gaze and met Gwen's eyes. She smiled, nodded, and in the blink of an eye, they all vanished.

"Oh," Gwen said, startled.

"You saw them too, didn't you?" Grandfather said. "Your grandmother is the dreamer, but whenever I'm in Rainbow Valley, I swear I'm under a spell that makes me see things."

"Oh, I—I wish they were still here," Gwen said confusedly. "I mean—I know Uncle Jem and Uncle Shirley and Aunt Rilla and Mother and Aunt Nan are all still here—but I wish they could be here as children, with Uncle Walter and Joy—" she couldn't think of that radiant young woman as an aunt, somehow— "all playing together, and being our friends."

"And somehow," Grandfather mused, "a little red-headed orphan and young lad hungry for friendship joining in as well." He smiled. "Maybe in heaven we'll all be the same age, and be companions."

"Oh, I like that idea!" Gwen exclaimed happily. "And I think you must have been just like Jack when you were a boy, Grandfather."

"Well, knowing in what high regard you all hold Jack, I consider that a very great compliment," Grandfather told her. He rose stiffly to his feet. "Oo-ooh! These old bones don't care very much for sitting on the ground anymore. Best come inside soon, Gwen. Lynde won't be happy if she sees that uniform like that."

"Oops." Gwen looked down at her shorts and lightweight sweater guiltily. "I forgot that I hadn't bothered changing after practice. I snuck here the back way, so I wouldn't meet anyone."

"Well, that's a relief, at least," Grandfather twinkled at her. "Wouldn't want anyone to think we were raising a hussy here."

"No," Gwen laughed. "Just a hoyden!"

The next day was Saturday, their "day of freedom," as Jo dramatically called it. As usual, Lee was down at the House of Dream with Leigh, but the other three Blake children were lolling in Rainbow Valley after breakfast when Jack, Oliver, and Fanny found them.

"What are we up to today, kids?" Jack asked agreeable. Gwen would have bristled at being called a "kid" by anyone else, but coming from Jack it was acceptable. Besides, she was too busy trying not to blush at the sight of Oliver to bristle at anything.

"Recovering," Jo said with a huge sigh.

"Recovering from what?" Fanny asked, her eyes wide with alarm.

"School," Jo answered.

"We were thinking about doing some fishing today," Jack said, and Gwen noticed that he and Oliver were both carrying rods and creels. "Care to join us?"

"And how," Phil said with alacrity. "C'mon Jo, let's get our gear." He paused right before dashing up to the house. "Gwen, do you want us to get yours, too?"

Fanny squeaked with dismay. "Gwen, you fish?"

"Gwen's the best out of all of us," Phil said proudly.

"Not Jeremy," Jo reminded him. "Nobody's better than Jeremy."

"I meant out of us, we four," Phil explained. "Well, Gwen?"

Gwen hesitated. She did love to fish, but she didn't want to leave Fanny out, either. "Not today," she decided reluctantly.

Jo rolled his eyes, but Phil gave her a little smile and nod, showing that he understood her choice, and approved it. Gwen grinned back at him.

"I wouldn't want to make you all look bad."

Jack sputtered out a laugh as Phil grinned back and raced after Jo up the hill, and after a moment Oliver's rich, deep laugh joined his.

"I'd say that sounds like a challenge, eh, Oliver?" Jack asked, nudging his friend in the ribs.

"Not one I'll take," Oliver said, shaking his head. "Everyone knows I'm the worst fisherman in the Glen. I'll be lucky if I bring one home."

"I wouldn't say that," Jack said, considering. "One might leap out of my creel and into yours. You never know."

The boys rejoined them then, and the little group walked down to the Glen pond, Jack and Jo in the lead, and Fanny and Gwen trailing.

"School's almost out for the year," Fanny said. "Are you getting nervous about exams?"

Gwen shook her head. "I'm more nervous about the final meet next week."

"But you've been winning everything all season," Fanny said. "How can you be more nervous about that than exams?"

"I already know everything I'm going to learn, regarding exams," Gwen said. "Whether I pass or fail has already been decided. But the meet … well, this is our biggest, and I don't want to let Coach or the girls down."

"Or the rest of the school," Phil added, turning his head to join the conversation. "Everyone expects you to win."

Gwen made a face at him. "Thank you very much for making me more nervous!"

"Just stating the facts," Phil said calmly.

"You'll do fine, Gwen," Oliver reassured her.

"Thank you," Gwen said, wishing she didn't feel so tongue-tied around him.

"Shh!" Jo turned around to glare at them. "We're getting close to the pond. Do you want the fish to hear you?"

"Sorry, Jo-Jo," Gwen whispered.

While the four boys fished, Gwen and Fanny sat a short distance away (far enough that Jo deemed it safe) and chatted. Fanny couldn't stop worrying about exams, and Gwen couldn't take her thoughts from the final meet. Coach and everyone else thought she was going to be wonderful (except for Margie MacAllister, who had already told her she thought Gwen was going to trip and make a fool of herself in front of everyone), and she was so afraid of letting them all down.

If only Mother was there to give her good advice and practical comfort! She'd written encouragingly, of course, but it wasn't the same as having her right there.

Beside her, Fanny suddenly stopped talking and sighed.

"What?" Gwen asked, afraid she had missed something important.

"Do you think he'll ever notice I'm alive?" Fanny asked plaintively.

Gwen followed the direction of her eyes. "Jack? Of course he knows you're alive. You're one of his friends."

Fanny looked at her in exasperation. "Not like that. I mean, you know."

"Oh," Gwen said slowly, light dawning. "You mean, like a boy-friend."

Fanny blushed so virulently her face almost glowed. "He's just … he's so nice, and he's smart, and handsome …"

"Do you want me to ask him if he likes you?" Gwen offered.

"No!" Fanny squeaked. "I don't want him to know."

"I wouldn't tell him that you wanted to know, of course," Gwen said. "I would just say that I had been wondering, since you're the smartest girl in school, and he'e one of the smartest boys, and everyone knows how pretty you are …"

Fanny shook her head violently. "No! Thank you, though. I just don't want him even thinking about it, unless it's from him."

Gwen shrugged. "If you change your mind, let me know." Personally, she thought her plan was both sensible and discreet. Phil would have been proud.

"What about you and Oliver?" Fanny asked.

Gwen gulped. "What do you mean?" Now it was her turn to blush.

Fanny rolled her eyes. "There you go again. Every time someone even mentions his name, you blush! When he talks to you, you can barely function."

"That's not true!"

"Close enough."

"We're just friends," Gwen said. "I don't understand why I blush around him, but I think it's because everyone else is half in love with him, and that makes me nervous." She watched him help Jo take a small sunfish off his hook, laughing and congratulating the younger boy. "I do admire him, but not romantically." At least, she didn't think it was romance.

"Too bad," Fanny said.

"Why? Does he like me?" And why did that make her both excited and nervous?

"No," Fanny said calmly, then corrected herself. "At least, not that I know of. No, I just thought that if you and Oliver were a couple, and Jack and I were a couple … we'd have lots of fun, that's all."

Gwen ordered her stomach to settle back where it belonged. "We have plenty of fun now," she said decisively. "And all without romance. I'm too young to fall in love, anyway."

"Well, I'm not!" Fanny laughed. "As much as I'm looking forward to graduating from high school and going on to university, I'm looking forward just as much to having a boy-friend, and going steady in a few years!"

"I just want to get through the rest of this year," Gwen said. "I'm not thinking about university or boy-friends or anything—at least, not until Mother and Dad come home!"