"Oh," Marilla said with a long sigh of delight, "how lovely it is to have sisters! and--and a father! If I couldn't have but one I think I'd take the father. Isn't Mr. Warren just splendid and sweet and charming? There's a book of poems at Miss Armitage's that has one such beautiful thing--'The Children's Hour.' And they have it here. The hour after dinner if there are no visitors belongs to the children. The smaller ones take possession of his lap and Edith sits on the arm of the chair. I sat on the other," and she laughed with such a happy sound. "And they tell him everything, what they have read and studied, and the little troubles and differences and perplexities, and he listens and explains and laughs with them when it is funny, and everything is so nice. I didn't suppose fathers could be so dear and sweet, but I never knew any real father except Mr. Borden, and Jack was a torment. He wanted to pound and bang and wrinkle up things and ask silly questions. Maybe the twins will be different, and perhaps he will love girls the best."