I do not own the Anne of Green Gables characters or stories, they are the property of the estate of L. M. Montgomery. This story is only for fun, and I don't get any compensation for it.

Marybeth was about to drop her bag in the mud when she felt a hand on her arm.

"Can I help you with those bags?" Marybeth looked up to see a tall, pleasant looking man looking down at her. She recognized him as her neighbor, across the road and up the hill a little ways. Their children played together. She smiled at him.

"That would be wonderful, thank you." She nudged the heaviest bags at him and he lifted them with ease. Then she gracefully lowered herself to her little daughter's height and comforted the crying child. She had lost half her candies in the mud puddle, but, as Marybeth pointed out to her, she still had half left. She did the best she could to clean the mud off her daughter's face with a handkerchief, then sighed and stood up and looked at the man smiling at her so kindly. Jomishie was still sniffling

"Thank you so much for coming to my rescue. Mud puddles and bags of candies just dont mix. Especially in the hands of a seven year old."

"You're welcome, ma'am. No, that's okay, we're walking in the same direction, " he said when she tried to take her bags back. Marybeth took the child's hand, instead.

"I guess I shouldn't have tried to walk to the store with just Jomishie, but it was such a beautiful day. I guess I just threw caution to the winds." She laughed.

"Well, maybe this can make up a little for my earlier rudeness" Marybeth looked at him questioningly. The man continued. "I should have visited you earlier to welcome you to the neighborhood. But," he paused, embarrassed "I must confess I allowed other matters to take my attention away from my neighborly duties. My name is Mr. Meredith."

"I suppose I can forgive you, " Marybeth said, laughing. "My name is Mrs Hamilton, and I'm sure you know our children are already well aquainted. They just love playing with your children down at Rainbow Valley with the Blythes. They just have the most fun. My children have never known any Manse children before, and your children are so friendly and well-mannered, I enjoy having them in for cookies when they come looking for my children."

John Meredith glowed under the praise of his children. He also enjoyed listening to Mrs. Hamilton's voice, with it's delicate Southern accent. American southerners rarely vacationed this far north. He seemed to remember hearing that she was an aquaintance of Mrs. Blythe, that the two had met somehow and struck up a correspondence. She also had a friendly, vivacious air. But everyone knew Southern ladies were like that.

Mrs. Hamilton asked him a little about himself and he found himself telling her about the children, how much he liked Glen St. Mary and even a little about Cecilia. She understood. She told him how she had been a widow these past several years, how her husband had had a law practice in Atlanta, but they had decided to try their hand at homesteading and had a farm in Wisconsin. Her older boys were working the farm this summer, learning to help their manager and that they had hired some hands to help. Mr. Meredith didn't know a lot about farming, but he concluded that it must be a prosperous farm if Mrs. Hamilton could afford a manager, farm hands, and to keep her younger children with her in Canada for the summer. Not that he would ever ask. That would be rude.

They walked quietly for a while when Mrs. Hamilton asked him, "What's that book you're reading?"

"Oh, this. Writings of St. Augustine."

Mrs. Hamilton nodded. They continued to walk, and she had a little frown on her face. Mr. Meredith didn't expect a reply, and his mind was drifting away from the subject when suddently Mrs. Hamilton spoke.

"When he wrote about the properties of time--that there was no time as we know it before God created the world--you could probably explain it better than me, but you know what I'm talking about. Anyway, I had the most difficult time understanding that passage. But you know?" She paused and turned to look at him. "Sometimes, when I'm outside at night, and look at the endless stars, and everything is quiet...I almost start to comprehend..." She turned and and started walking again.

Mr. Meredith was stunned. The ladies of his aquaintance, good and worthy women that they were, generally had their heads full of domestic matters, the price of eggs, the best remedies for children's coughs. Even his Cecilia had never read his theological books, and she had a fine mind. But here was Mrs. Hamilton discussing Augustine as casually as one might discuss weeding the garden. And she wasn't showing off. She admitted her difficulties in understanding the passage. It would be pleasant to have an intellectual person to talk to. He thought quickly.

"Mrs. Hamilton, I have a book of commentaries of his writings. Would you like to borrow it?"

She flashed him dazzling smile. "Why thank you. I'd love to read it."

He saw her off at her gate and handed the bags back to her.

"Jomishie, say good-bye to Mr. Meredith."

"G'bye"

Mr. Meredith smiled at the little girl, who turned to run off. When she was out of

earshot, he gave an inquiring look to the mother.

"What an unusual name. Where did you hear it?"

Mrs. Hamilton laughed. " That's not her real name. Her real name is Joanna-Michelle, but when she was born, her brother, Henry, couldn't say it. He called her Jomishie, and she's been Jomishie ever since."

She smiled at him and turned and walked towards the door. Mr. Meredith watched her for a moment before he headed up the road to his own house. He was definitely pleased about his new neighbor. And he would send that commentary to her house before the day was out.