a petition to the school trustees, humbly praying that a fence be put around the school grounds; and a plan was also to be discussed for planting a few ornamental trees by the church, if the funds of the society would permit of it . . . for, as Anne said, there was no use in starting another subscription as long as the hall remained blue. The members were assembled in the Andrews’ parlour and Jane was already on her feet to move the appointment of a committee which should find out and report on the price of said trees, when Gertie Pye swept in, pompadoured and frilled within an inch of her life. Gertie had a habit of being late . . . “to make her entrance more effective,” spiteful people said. Gertie’s entrance in this instance was certainly effective, for she paused dramatically on the middle of the floor, threw up her hands, rolled her eyes, and exclaimed,
“I’ve just heard something perfectly awful. What do you think? Mr. Judson Parker is going to rent all the road fence of his farm to a patent medicine company to paint advertisements on.”
For once in her life Gertie Pye made all the sensation she desired. If she had thrown a bomb among the complacent Improvers she could hardly have made more.
“It can’t be true,” said Anne blankly.
“That’s just what I said when I heard it first, don’t you know,” said Gertie, who was enjoying herself hugely. “I said it couldn’t be true . . . that Judson Parker wouldn’t have the heart to do it, don’t you
