Anne reveled in the world of color about her.“Oh, Marilla,” she exclaimed one Saturday morning, coming dancing in with her arms full ofgorgeous boughs, “I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers. It would be terrible ifwe just skipped from September to November, wouldn’t it? Look at these maple branches. Don’tthey give you a thrill—several thrills? I’m going to decorate my room with them.”“Messy things,” said Marilla, whose aesthetic sense was not noticeably developed. “You clutterup your room entirely too much with out-of-doors stuff, Anne. Bedrooms were made to sleep in.”