'Anne,' said Davy, sitting up in bed and propping his chin on his hands, 'Anne, where is sleep?
People go to sleep every night, and of course I know it’s the place where I do the things I dream, but I want to know where it is and how I get there and back without knowing anything about it . and in my nighty too. Where is it?
' Anne was kneeling at the west gable window watching the sunset sky that was like a great flower with petals of crocus and a heart of fiery yellow.
She turned her head at Davy’s question and answered dreamily, '‘Over the mountains of the moon, Down the valley of the shadow.
’' Paul Irving would have known the meaning of this, or made a meaning out of it for himself, if he didn’t; but practical Davy, who, as Anne often despairingly remarked, hadn’t a particle of imagination, was only puzzled and disgusted. 'Anne, I believe you’re just talking nonsense.
' 'Of course, I was, dear boy. Don’t you know that it is only very foolish folk who talk sense all the time? ' 'Well, I think you might give a sensible answer when I ask a sensible question,' said Davy in an injured tone.
'Oh, you are too little to understand,' said Anne. But she felt rather ashamed of saying it; for had she not, in keen remembrance of many similar snubs administered in her own early years, solemnly vowed that she would never tell any child it was too little to understand?
Yet here she was doing it . so wide sometimes is the gulf between theory and practice. 'Well, I’m doing my best to grow,' said Davy, 'but it’s a thing you can’t hurry much. If Marilla wasn’t so stingy