It is not every day one sees a soul ... even of a poem . '' `` I wonder what a soul ... a person 's soul ... would look like , '' said Priscilla dreamily . `` Like that , I should think , '' answered Anne , pointing to a radiance of sifted sunlight streaming through a birch tree . `` Only with shape and features of course . I like to fancy souls as being made of light . And some are all shot through with rosy stains and quivers ... and some have a soft glitter like moonlight on the sea ... and some are pale and transparent like mist at dawn . '' `` I read somewhere once that souls were like flowers , '' said Priscilla . `` Then your soul is a golden narcissus , '' said Anne , `` and Diana 's is like a red , red rose . Jane 's is an apple blossom , pink and wholesome and sweet . '' `` And your own is a white violet , with purple streaks in its heart , '' finished Priscilla . Jane whispered to Diana that she really could not understand what they were talking about . Could she ? The girls went home by the light of a calm golden sunset , their baskets filled with narcissus blossoms from Hester 's garden , some of which Anne carried to the cemetery next day and laid upon Hester 's grave . Minstrel robins were whistling in the firs and the frogs were singing in the marshes . All the basins among the hills were brimmed with topaz and emerald light . `` Well , we have had a lovely time after all , '' said Diana , as if she had hardly expected to have it when she set out . `` It has been a truly golden day , '' said Priscilla . `` I 'm really awfully fond of the woods myself , '' said Jane . Anne said nothing . She was looking afar into the western sky and thinking of little Hester Gray .
XIV A Danger Averted Anne , walking home from the post office one Friday evening , was joined XXXXX Mrs. Lynde , who was as usual cumbered with all the cares of church and state .
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