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Anne of Avonlea [Paperback]

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  • Category: Books
  • Author:  Montgomery, L.M.
  • Author:  Montgomery, L.M.
  • ISBN-10:  1402288972
  • ISBN-10:  1402288972
  • ISBN-13:  9781402288975
  • ISBN-13:  9781402288975
  • Publisher:  Sourcebooks Fire
  • Publisher:  Sourcebooks Fire
  • Pages:  304
  • Pages:  304
  • Binding:  Paperback
  • Binding:  Paperback
  • Pub Date:  01-Jul-2014
  • Pub Date:  01-Jul-2014
  • SKU:  1402288972-11-MING
  • SKU:  1402288972-11-MING
  • Item ID: 100317684
  • Seller: ShopSpell
  • Ships in: 2 business days
  • Transit time: Up to 5 business days
  • Delivery by: Oct 28 to Oct 30
  • Notes: Brand New Book. Order Now.

<p><strong>A classic for all ages, this official, unabridged edition of <em>Anne of Avonlea </em>features the unforgettable character of Anne Shirley and special memories, exclusively from L.M. Montgomery's granddaughter.</strong></p><p>At sixteen, Anne is both exhilarated and slightly terrified to be teaching at the Avonlea schoolhouse. But she's determined to win the heart of every student—especially troublemaker Anthony Pye. After all, she still knows a thing or two about troublemaking herself...</p><p>With rambunctious six-year-old twins staying at Green Gables, a village "improvement" project that goes disastrously wrong, and her college entrance exams to study for, Anne will more than have her hands full. At least her best friend Diana and tormentor-turned-ally, the dashing Gilbert Blythe, will be there to help see her through.</p><p>Inspiring the dreamer in all of us, Anne is hailed as a favorite by everyone from Mark Twain to Duchess Kate.</p><p><b>Chapter 1</b></p><p><b>An Irate Neighbor</b></p><p>A tall, slim girl, "half-past sixteen," with serious gray eyes and hair which her friends called auburn, had sat down on the broad red sandstone doorstep of a Prince Edward Island farmhouse one ripe afternoon in August, firmly resolved to construe so many lines of Virgil.</p><p>But an August afternoon, with blue hazes scarfing the harvest slopes, little winds whispering elfishly in the poplars, and a dancing splendor of red poppies outflaming against the dark coppice of young firs in a corner of the cherry orchard, was fitter for dreams than dead languages. The Virgil soon slipped unheeded to the ground, and Anne, her chin propped on her clasped hands, and her eyes on the splendid mass of fluffy clouds that were heaping up just over Mr. J. A. Harrison's house like a great white mountain, was far away in a delicious world where a certain schló,

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