"I don''t know. It doesn''t look-exactly-as if the occupants
would bekindred spirits，Anne，does it？"
The house was a large，substantial affair，painted such a vivid
green thatthe landscape seemed quite faded by contrast. There was
an orchard behind it，and a nicely kept lawn before
it，but，somehow，there was a certain barenessabout it. Perhaps its
neatness was responsible for this; the whole
establishment，house，barns，orchard，garden，lawn and lane，was so
starkly neat.
"It doesn''t seem probable that anyone with that taste in paint
could beVERY kindred，" acknowledged Anne，"unless it were an
accident-like our blue hall. I feel certain there are no children
there，at least. It''s even neater thanthe old Copp place on the Tory
road，and I never expected to see anything neater than that."
They had not met anybody on the moist，red road that wound along
the harbor shore. But just before they came to the belt of birch
which hid their home，Anne saw a girl who was driving a flock of
snow-white geese along the crest of a velvety green hill on the
right. Great，scattered firs grew along it. Between their trunks one
saw glimpses of yellow harvest fields，gleams of golden
sand-hills，and bits of blue sea. The girl was tall and wore a dress
of pale blue print. She walked with a certain springiness of step
and erectness of bearing. She and her geese came out of the gate at
the foot of the hill as Anne and Gilbert passed.
……
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