Phil dashed out to the pantry and Anne betook herself to the orchard in company with Rusty . It was a moist , pleasantly-odorous night in early spring . The snow was not quite all gone from the park ; a little dingy bank of it yet lay under the pines of the harbor road , screened from the influence of April suns . It kept the harbor road muddy , and chilled the evening air . But grass was growing green in sheltered spots and Gilbert had found some pale , sweet arbutus in a hidden corner . He came up from the park , his hands full of it . Anne was sitting on the big gray boulder in the orchard looking at the poem of a bare , birchen bough hanging against the pale red sunset with the very perfection of grace . She was building a castle in air -- a wondrous mansion whose sunlit courts and stately halls were steeped in Araby 's perfume , and where she reigned queen and chatelaine . She frowned as she saw Gilbert coming through the orchard . Of late she had managed not to be left alone with Gilbert . But he had caught her fairly now ; and even Rusty had deserted her . Gilbert sat down beside her on the boulder and held out his Mayflowers . `` Do n't these remind you of home and our old schoolday picnics , Anne ? '' Anne took them and buried her face in them . `` I 'm in Mr. Silas Sloane 's barrens this very minute , '' she said rapturously . `` I suppose you will be there in reality in a few days ? '' `` No , not for a fortnight . I 'm going to visit with Phil in Bolingbroke before I go home . You 'll be in Avonlea before I will . '' `` No , I shall not be in Avonlea at all this summer , Anne .
I 've been offered a job in the Daily News office and I 'm going XXXXX take it . ''
against at down from of on through to under with