But when Leslie came over a few evenings later she was so pleasant, so friendly, so frank, and witty, and winsome, that Anne was charmed into forgiveness and forgetfulness.
Only, she never mentioned her darling hope to Leslie again; nor did Leslie ever refer to it.

But one evening, when late winter was listening for the word of spring, she came over to the little house for a twilight chat; and when she went away she left a small, white box on the table.

Anne found it after she was gone and opened it wonderingly.
In it was a tiny white dress of exquisite workmanship--delicate embroidery, wonderful tucking, sheer loveliness.

Every stitch in it was handwork; and the little frills of lace at neck and sleeves were of real Valenciennes.

Lying on it was a card--"with Leslie's love." "What hours of work she must have put on it," said Anne.