P8. Anne sighed. She didn’t want her name written up. But it was a little humiliating to know that there was no danger of it.
Q8. whose black eyes and glossy tresses had played such havoc with the hearts of Avonlea schoolboys that her name figured on the porch walls in half a dozen take-notices.
R8 — he was looking at Prissy Andrews —
S8. “Gertie Pye actually went and put her milk bottle in my place in the brook yesterday. Did you ever? I don’t speak to her now[.]”
T8 and driving crickets, harnessed to strings, up and down the aisle.
U8 and her eyes fixed on the blue glimpse of the Lake of Shining Waters that the west window afforded,