Anne Shirley was easy to like. Well, admittedly Mrs. Hammond was spiteful, but one can make allowances for a mother with three sets of twins. Diana adored her as only a kindred spirit can, and Matthew would have walked on hot coals for her. As it happened he ventured into the general store and bought her a dress with puffed sleeves which was even more terrifying. Marilla, whose capacity for warmth had dried up years ago, found a new reservoir of affection to bestow on the orphan, and even Rachel Lynde could not maintain her disapproval for long.

 

Then there is Gilbert. He who had a slate cracked over his head, and was the object of stalwart disdain loved Anne with unwavering devotion. All the dreamy eyed readers over a century could not budge Anne's heart to admit him any sooner than she did. But maybe it was worth the wait. 

 

Billy proposed by proxy, and Davy Keith, the obstreperous little boy Anne and Marilla adopted could not stay naughty forever. 

 

But the woman who floats in my thoughts on days when I find it hard to be kind is Josephine. She is the wealthy maiden aunt that pays for Diana's piano lessons, and has a reputation that does not involve camaraderie. Yet something about Anne's candor and expressive face makes it easy for Aunt Jo to enjoy her. Which is not usually the case for the spinster. 

 

Do I want to be the kind of person who only softens to the ready ones? That sounds like patting myself on the back for naming the top E on the eye chart. Or nabbing a prize at the carnival in one of those booths where someone behind the curtain pins a plastic whistle to your line. I love my granddaughter, but that hardly merits a trophy. Could anyone resist those blue eyes? 

 

The thing about Anne is, she was a master at finding kindred spirits in the unlikeliest of places. Which loosened the rusty hinges on doors that have stayed shut for too long.  Otherwise I could end up like Aunt Jo, with a circle of chums so small it could fit in a powder room.