Authors's Note: Oh, I know that I promised to have finished my story Lilies of the Valley three weeks ago, but things do get so crazy! (There, now, I feel very Anne-ish for my italics.) I did have a nice vacation, thanks, and when I got back life turned into a crazy flurry of activity. Between work, housecleaning, company most of this week and all of last, and school starting, I've been feeling breathless. But I did manage to write this little one-shot. The idea amused me, and I hope it amuses you also. You'll notice that I left Susan Baker out of the story; it convenienced me to do so. I disclaime everything Anne.

Gilbert Blythe, Almost Quoted

"Daddy!" Little Jem Blythe cried excitedly, pointing down the lane. Anne looked up from her sewing and saw someone tall and handsome approaching Ingleside. She thrilled from head to foot , smiling.

Jem's excitement was far less containable. He jumped up and down on the veranda, clapping his chubby hands.

"Can I go, Mummy? Can I?"

"You may go and meet your father at the gate," Anne assented readily, rumpling his already-unruly waves. He shot off just as fast as his legs could carry him, chanting gleefully, "Daddy's home! Daddy's home!" He bounced up and down at the gate, impatiently waiting for Gilbert to join him.

Anne, scarcely less eager to see her husband after his week away in Charlottetown, set aside her stitchery and scooped up a small bundle from the bassinet at her side and contented herself to wait at the bottom of the porch steps. After all, it woudn't do for a dignified doctor's wife—and proud mother of two—to conduct herself in such a fashion as Jem.

Gilbert, drawing closer, caught sight of his wife and sons and quickened his pace.

"There's my boy!" he cried as he threw Jem up onto his shoulders. The small boy laughed with delight. Gilbert took a few running steps to the porch, and a beaming Anne."

"My wife," he whispered at the end of a tender kiss. He reached down and softly stroked the tiny hand that peeked out from under the blanket in Anne's arms. The baby stretched and yawned.

"How's our Walter?" Gilbert asked as the family made its way to the living room.

"Sleepy," Anne answered, turning to go upstairs. "I think that a nap is in order."

She heard Jem's animated chatter as she laid Walter down in his crib. When she returned to the living room, looked just a bit prettier and fresher than she had before, Gilbert was reclined on the sofa, Jem bouncing excitedly at his knee. Anne sat down beside Gilbert, and he slipped his arm around her waist.

"Jem tells me that you've resumed your teaching ways, Mrs. Blythe. I hope this doesn't mean you're going to leave me."

"Nonsense," Anne scoffed with mock-scorn. "You did the leaving, and I taught Jem his colors while you were away."

"Oh! Let's see if you taught him correctly."

Gil's eyes twinkled in teasing, and Anne's chin rose in the air.

"Jem," she instructed in her best teacher-voice, "Can you show Daddy something blue?"

He toddled off to the kitchen, returning with a dish towel.

"Blue," he said, tossing it in Gilbert's lap. The doctor looked approval at his wife.

"Now, Jem, something green."

The child pointed a chubby finger at Gog and Magog on the hearth, indicating their spots.

"Green."

He squatted down and tapped Gilbert's shoe. "Brown."

"Good!" Gilbert praised proudly. Anne looked smug.

"Now, what about yellow?"

Jem pointed to a vase on the coffee table. "That," he said.

"And red?" His mother prodded.

Jem looked around, finally stumped. Though his mother was eyeing a red-bound book on the end of the mantle, Jem overlooked it and couldn't find anything red at all. He meandered around the living room, and even surveyed the kitchen.

When he emerged, his little shoulders had begun to slump in defeat, but his eyes suddenly lit up and a huge grin spread across his face.

He ran and jumped inot Anne's lap, throwing his arms around her neck.

"Red!" He cried triumphantly, patting down her previously un-mamed pompadour. "Red."

Anne looked blankly at her son, all smugness gone.

The excitement on Jem's face faded rapidly. Had he gotten it wrong? Had he disappointed Mother and Dad? He turned to his father. He didn't see the amusement that danced in Gilbert's eyes.

" 'S red, isn't it, Dad? Mama's hair is red?" He asked with pitiful uncertainty, turning to study his mother again.

"It is red!" He decleared after a pause. He faced Gilbert again. Father would know.

" 'S not orange," Jem continued with the tone of one who speaks great logic, " 'cause orange is like carrots."

Gilbert stared at the small boy incredulously. There was an indecipherable expression on Anne's face.

"That," she said sourly, "is your son, Gilbert Blythe."

The doctor shouted with laughter, unafraid of any schools slates that might crash down on his head. He leaned over, still laughing, and pressed his lips to Anne's. While it may be said that she felt just the tiniest bit injured—the words red and carrots in reference to her hair did not ellicit any good feelings—it cannot be said that she resisted her husband's kiss.

They parted only because a confused Jem placed a dimpled hand on each of their chins and pushed them apart.

"No, no, no," he fretted as he wriggled into place between them. He grasped Anne's hand and patted it emphatically.

"I'm yours, too, Mama." He tugged at one of his own wild, ruddy locks, bringing it down in front of his face; Anne had to resist giggling at his ridiculous cross-eyed expression.

"See?" He twisted the strand around his finger. "Red."

A/N: Ta-da! Wasn't that cute? Perhaps not in execution, but in theory… Please drop a review if you liked this at all. I promise that the conclusion of Lillies of the Valley will be up soon. I'm going to start typing right now. 'Till next time,

----SweetSinger2010