Newspaper headlines unequivocally proclaimed the continuation of the great German offensive on the Marne River that had been going on since May. The atmosphere in Ingelside was tense, despite the splendor of June's flowers. Mumsy and Gertrude Olivier often talked on the veranda, in the evenings, and sometimes the twins joined them. Rilla had noticed that a couple of days ago Gertrude Olivier had been having a lively conversation with Di afterwards Di's eyes had flashed.

It was nice that the twins were temporarily back in Ingelside, because the house didn't feel so empty, but Rilla still felt like they were somewhere else, mentally that is. Nan's shadowy hazel eyes seemed to devour all the international news, and Di seemed to be sneaking away at regular intervals somewhere, writing probably, in the bosom of nature like Walter used to do. Sometimes in clear evening hours, she was alternating with the piano with Gertrude Olivier.

And the music sparkled, bright, clear and sometimes also strange, full of jagged edges and swooping trills. But the beautiful, comforting, lullaby-like song that Gertrude had once played, Di did not play, despite Rilla's pleas. Di had glanced inquisitively at Rilla and said with a slight sting, "Ah, Spider, Dvořák, then. No, I don't have those notes here." And when she heard that surprising confession, Rilla noticed that Nan seemed to startle a little.

Afterwards, Rilla happened to hear passing in the kitchen, which smelled of rice pudding, Marilla's old recipe, which Susan had glanced at and nodded her approval, Nan's low voice remarking with uncharacteristic sharpness, "Di, don't take your frustrations out on Rilla, it's not fair. And where are those Dvořák notes anyway? For there were times when I was forced to listen to it, even though I wanted to scream if you practiced it again, but I didn't say anything because it was so important to you. So if our long-suffering little sister, who has borne her losses so bravely, wants to hear it, you play it ."

Di's response was a bit sulky, "You got it wrong, Nanlet. I'd play, but there aren't any notes. They're in Kingsport."

There was a tone in Nan's voice that made Rilla take a few steps back, it was a haunting echo of Rilla´s very own cold pale tone, as she remarked, " Find a copy then. Surely she has a copy, or three that you can borrow."

Intrigued, Rilla leaned closer to hear more, but then Susan's voice came from across the yard, "Rilla, Rilla, Betty Meade came to see you!"

Rilla was slightly vainly pleased about her new Butterick pattern pale summer dress, of which Nan had remarked warmly, "Darling, you look like a shimmering pale butterfly with that on." Rilla walked down Glen street proudly wearing her new straw hat, decorated with colorful ribbons that Nan had brought from Kingsport, and decided to stop by Glen's town hall to check that everything was in order for the Junior Reds' upcoming bake sale event, all for Allies, which was in a couple of days. Almost every household in the Glen and Upper Glen was busy baking.

Yesterday, after Reverend Meredith's sermon, Rilla had heard Mary Vance boast to Una Meredith in her usual style, "My light sponge cake will surely sell." Rilla had noticed that Una's dark blue eyes had twinkled faintly as she had remarked, "It's very possible."

Mary Vance had curiously inquired, "What are you going to bake?" Una had twisted her dark blue skirt in her narrow fingers as she had done a half-aborted shrug, with her narrow shoulders, as she had murmured, "There are alternatives, maybe Madeleines."

Mary Vance had raised her eyebrows and said with a surprising gentleness that was not at all used to the girl Rilla knew, "Very patriotic, as French soldiers are fighting alongside our boys in Belgium and the countryside of France and France-Comte, if the newspaper headlines are to be believed."

Arcoss church-isle there had been something amiss in the Howards' pew, but with satisfaction Rilla hoped that perhaps Irene had sprained her ankle.

Glen's Town hall glistened in the sun, as Rilla carefully opened the door with her gloved hand. But to her surprise, the large bright space was not empty. For she heard Irene's honeyed voice remark, "Why would anyone want to lounge on a grand piano like that, dearest Di?"

Rilla nodded to her sister and noticed that Di was indeed sitting upon it, her slender ankles crossed. The reddish-brown piano lid glistened in the light, as Di replied in the light teasing patented Blythe style that Rilla knew always infuriated Irene Howard, "Dear Irene, there are many things one can do, like this, for instance. And I've noticed that the public in general always love that kind of thing, but only if performer knows how to do it. It is a delicate balance."

And with a theatrical, flowing gesture, Di, descended to the floor level, she swept her fingers on the shiny Ivory keys, softly, as she played a light intoxicating fragment, strains of Roses of Picardy shimmered with melting scales, in the wide room.

When the music ended, Di remarked, "If I understood correctly, Irene, you may have some thanks for getting this Wyatt here, because you brought it up at a Junior Reds meeting. Of course, my own family's contacts in Toronto brought it here, but still."

Rilla enjoyed immensely when she saw how the smile froze on Irene's face, as she swept out of the town hall, in clearly in the grips of a middling dungeon of a fury. Rilla laughed lightly as she remarked, "Oh Di, clearly your Redmond years have sharpened your claws, as you put Irene in her place brilliantly."

A slight shadow flickered across Di's face as she glanced at the piano bathed in light, as she said, "Irene happened to interrupt me earlier, so this was good pay for that." Slightly hesitant, Rilla asked, "Did you think about Walter?"

The green was clear in Di's eyes as she replied, "Our brother is never very far from my thoughts. Especially like this in June, but in answer to your question, no."

On a bright Wednesday afternoon, Glen's Town hall was full of tables that were literally dripping with goodies; spongecakes, genose cakes, oswego cakes to galore, lemon drizzles, and various biscuits, all done with Borden's ration's orders in mind. Susan Baker and wizened Cornelia Elliot examined the tables' offerings with critical eyes, and the old adversaries shook their heads several times. For even the naked eye could see that this was going to be the worst bake-sale ever, and it was not the fault of the Junior Reds, but the fault of the Union Government, which had poked its nose into the home front-every kitchen with its regulations. A decent frosted cake could not be made in these conditions, nor anything that required decent ingredients. And because of this, all the cakes looked really inferior, even if they were on shiny inherited family flower china or even in some cases silver trays.

There was an Allied flag on the hall wall and the room was decorated with bright patriotic ribbons. Gertrude Olivier and Una Meredith played the piano, alternately, patriotic tunes, for the glory of the commonwealth.

Rosemary Meredith walked through the crowd, nodding as the Reverend's wife did. A red-cheeked, beaming Rilla Blythe walked quickly past her towards the small stage where the core of the Junior Reds were assembled, as that cotierie of lasses seemed to be applauded by the locals for the success of the arrangements.

Anne Blythe leaned contentedly on Gilbert's arm as she remarked softly, "Gil, look how happy our girls look." Nan was chatting merrily with Olive Kirke, and Di was standing near the piano, talking to Una Meredith. There were red spots from the heat shining on Una's alabaster cheeks, as Una nodded to Rilla, who beckoned Una towards the stage, as slender Una slipped carefully to her indicated spot, in the row. Mary Vance's pale blue eyes seemed to be observing everything carefully as always, as she put her arm out to support Cornelia.

But as so often of late dearest Gilbert seemed distant, as he murmured, " as you say dearest." Anne noticed that there was a small deep crease between Gilbert's brows.

That night, with the misty moon shining in the sky, Anne pulled Gilbert's curly head to her bosom, softly, as she whispered, earthily, "What's the matter? Whatever it is you can't solve it now, so tell me if it won't break your oath?"

Gilbert's lips, dry from the summer heat, touched Anne's cool, silky skin as he said, "I got a letter from Dick Parker. A strain of flu has reached Lowbridge, and it seems things are bad there. And Dick advised me to tell nobody to go to Lowbridge and I naturally passed the information on earlier. "

Anne squeezed Gilbert's secure shoulders with her suddenly cold hands as she whispered, "So shall we talk about quarantine?"

Tiredly, Gilbert caressed Anne's ring as he whispered gruffly, "I don't know, probably not. Luckily there's a bit of distance between Lowbridge and the Glen. That we're not like Over Harbor and the Glen."

A sudden restlessness like a moth in her soul, Anne Blythe crept through the sleeping Ingelside, just as she had once years and years ago, but this time the rooms of her beloved sons were empty and silent. Rilla and lovable Jims slept peacefully. Nan's breathing was calm, and serene, but Di seemed restless, as she tossed and turned, the sheets twisted under her limbs, and one delicate, long-fingered hand outstretched, as if waiting, but what, or rather who? There were slight murmurs, as Di talked in her sleep, as she sometimes did, but Anne couldn't make out what Di was saying, it was all jumbled up.

The large windows in Ingelside's living room were transparently bright, as the moonlight streamed through them, and for a moment it seemed to Anne as if her ruined garden had been a front line, and the shadows like fighting troops.

Gertrude Oliver slept, her dark curls resting on a pale herb-scented pillow, as she slept she saw, as she had once before, the web of opportunity chance spreading like a silver wave, a wave that would not crush but bring victory, just as it had in 1914. Intoxicated, feeling elated, Gertrude jolted awake, in her Lowbridge home. She looked out the window in the dark. Dr. Parker's house on the hill had lights in the windows, they glowed with flickering light. And with a sudden shiver Gertrude wrapped herself in her shawl, as a faint pale girlish shadow was seen glimmering in the garden, momentarily, and then it turned and walked in with hasty steps.

Dick Parker wiped his face with a cold cloth. He was so tired that even his fingernails ached. But now it seemed that the worst might be over for Lowbridge. Because none of the residents had invited him for the last week, or so. Except upstairs, that is. Extremely worried, over the continuous Strauss tunes that bubbled up from under Alice's fingers, Dick climbed the stairs to his bedroom where Therese was resting.

His dear wife's face was completely bloodless, and her cuticles had a light blue tint, and her hoarse, muffled breathing rattled, like wind in the autumn leaf piles. With careful, soft hands, Dick listened to Therese's heart once more, first warming the cold stethoscope, but it didn't help, because the heat emanating from Therese's clammy skin was too high, and it didn't seem to subside in any way, despite cold cloths and medicinal ampoules that were on the side table. Dick had even ended up drying certain herbs, wondering if they would help.

Therese's eyelids trembled, and carefully she whispered, "Dick, it hurts to breathe."

Dick stroked Therese's hand, and pressed a light kiss to her tawny curls, which showed more gray streaks than before, as he murmured, "I know, my love, do you want some water?"

Therese softly, pressed her hand down, denying, as the music echoed distantly, dreamily, sparkling, as she murmured, "Read me something, like newspaper headlines?"

With tears blurring his eyes, Dick opened the nearest newspaper, cleared his throat and read, " British, French and Italian governments declare support of national aspirations of Poles, Czecho-Slovaks and Yugo-Slavs. United States government announces a view that all Slav Races should be free of German and Austrian rule."

Therese, with an extreme effort, opened her eyes, and looked at Dick. Fatigue and stress had aged him, and his golden red hair had thinned even further. But his eyes were as sharply lovingly warm and attentive as ever, as he said gravely, "Shall I call Alice?" Therese nodded.

Alice extremely carefully sat down on the edge of the bed, as Papa had indicated that she could. Mother looked terrible, and she seemed so weak, as she was lying there, but her fingers gripped Alice's wrist with a surprisingly strong grip, and Alice looked up at her Mother's disease-worn face, as the cracked lips tried to pull into a smile, and the deep-set violet-blue eyes tried to smile, as she whispered, "I am so proud of you, meine liebe Nachtigall."

Faintly, Therese motioned to a drawer on the dressing table and upon opening it, Alice noticed a delicate wooden jewelry box. Hissing, Therese drew air into her pained lungs, and Alice heard the insidious mucus rustle and Alice leaned closer as Therese whispered a few broken sentences into her ear.

Alice felt Papa's fierce grip on her shoulder, as Alice rose, and began to hum;

Když mne stará matka

zpívat,

zpívat učívala,

podivno, že často,

často slzívala.

A teď také pláčem snědé líce mučím,

když cigánské děti hrát a zpívat,

hrát a zpívat učím!

One day telephone wires vibrated in the bright sunlight, as the phone rang in Ingelside, fiercely, demandingly, as the news of Mrs Parkers demise was told. Newspaper headlines proclaimed Anglo-German conference on prisoners of war takes place in the Hague. Battle of the Piave begins in Italy.

Now there might have been better hope for Jem's fate. The quiet ignorance, the exact course of events, the hopelessness, was extremely painful. Rilla's eyes no longer shone as the hot days of June rolled by.

Di sat pale-cheeked in the living room, and Anne noticed that she was holding a beautiful orchid pendant as she flashed to Gilbert, "How come I can't go and visit Lowbridge? Especially when I went there to pick up a sheet of music from Alice about a week ago, or perhaps it was little more now. Although it was strange that she dropped the sheet music folder for me in the garden from one of the windows, because she was busy. Usually I've had at least tea at the Parkers, but now I couldn't even get from the garden to the porch steps of the house. Alice needs support of friends especially now!"

Gilbert was adamant as he said, "No. Dick knows how to comfort his child, outsiders are not needed. And I don't want to risk you, any of you." Anne noticed how hearing Di's words, Gilbert paled a bit and he said fiercely, "You don't feel feverish or sick do you?"

Di shook her head. Nan pointedly observed, "Perhaps Lowbridge has the same disease that was raging in Redmond?"

The clatter of Susan's pans was an eerie counterpoint to the soft, atmospheric scales as shaking her hands Di said, nodding to Rilla, who was sitting on the carpet with Jims, in her lap, "I promised to play this."

Anne leaned against Gilbert almost boneless, as a bright, sad atmospheric notes of Dvořák sparkled like waterfall might. Nan's thoughts revolved around Jerry, his recent batch of letters, dated in March-April had been quite gloomy in tone. The light sparkled in the frame of Walter's photo as the scent of restorative Susans grade tea wafted from the kitchen into the living room, Gog and Magog kept watch over them all as ever.