saffron

Anne evidently got through her visit without any serious breach of “etiquette,” for she came home through the twilight, under a great, high-sprung sky gloried over with trails of saffron and rosy cloud, in a beatified state of mind and told Marilla all about it happily, sitting on the big red-sandstone slab at the kitchen door with her tired curly head in Marilla’s gingham lap.

Beyond, the Avonlea hills came out darkly against the saffron sky.

“We have an inspector who makes a specialty of Saffron Hill and the Italian Quarter.