By L. M. Montgomery
Jane and her mom reside in a depressing outdated mansion, the place their lives are governed via her ovebearing grandmother. for many of her existence Jane has believed that her father is lifeless. Then, one boring April morning, a letter comes. not just is her father alive and good, yet he wishes Jane to spend the summer season with him on Prince Edward Island.
For a pleased summer season she lives at her father's cottage on Lantern Hill, making neighbors, having adventures and getting to know that lifestyles could be remarkable in the end. and she or he dares to dream that there should be this sort of residence the place she, mom and dad may perhaps dwell jointly with no Grandmother's disapproval - a home which may be known as domestic.
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Extra resources for Jane of Lantern Hill
Sample text
The mackerel clouds . . only Jane didn't know then they were mackerel clouds . . in the eastern sky began to take fire. The sun rose without any unusual fuss. Jane was afraid to get up too early for fear of alarming Aunt Irene again but at last she rose and opened the window. Jane did not know she was looking out on the loveliest thing on earth . . a June morning in Prince Edward Island . . but she knew it all seemed like a different world from last night. A wave of fragrance broke in her face from the lilac hedge between Aunt Irene's house and the next one.
In that one moment Jane forgot that she had ever hated her father. She liked him . . she liked everything about him from the nice tobaccoey smell of his heather-mixture tweed suit to the firm grip of his arms around her. She wanted to cry but that was out of the question so she laughed instead . . " Father set Jane down and looked at her. All the sternness of his eyes had crinkled into laughter. " he said gravely. How she loved to be called "my Jane" like that! "No, father," she said with equal gravity.
We take the car ferry there across to the Island," Mrs Stanley explained. Mrs Stanley had given up trying to talk to her. She thought Jane quite the dumbest child she had ever encountered. She had not the slightest inkling that Jane's silence was her only bulwark against wild, rebellious tears. And Jane would not cry. It was not actually raining when they reached the Cape. As they went on board the car ferry the sun was hanging, a flat red ball, in a rift of clouds to the west. But it soon darkened down again.