or deprecation. What she did say was a surprise to herself
then and ever afterwards.

"You shouldn't have twitted her about her looks, Rachel."
"Marilla Cuthbert, you don't mean to say that you are

upholding her in such a terrible display of temper as we've
just seen?" demanded Mrs. Rachel indignantly.

"No," said Marilla slowly, "I'm not trying to excuse her. She's
been very naughty and I'll have to give her a talking to about

it. But we must make allowances for her. She's never been
taught what is right. And you WERE too hard on her, Rachel."

Marilla could not help tacking on that last sentence,
although she was again surprised at herself for doing it.

Mrs. Rachel got up with an air of offended dignity.
"Well, I see that I'll have to be very careful what I say

after this, Marilla, since the fine feelings of orphans,
brought from goodness knows where, have to be considered

before anything else. Oh, no, I'm not vexed--don't worry
yourself. I'm too sorry for you to leave any room for anger

in my mind. You'll have your own troubles with that child.
But if you'll take my advice--which I suppose you won't

do, although I've brought up ten children and buried
two--you'll do that `talking to' you mention with a fair-

sized birch switch. I should think THAT would be the most
effective language for that kind of a child. Her temper

matches her hair I guess. Well, good evening, Marilla.
I hope you'll come down to see me often as usual. But you

can't expect me to visit here again in a hurry, if I'm
liable to be flown at and insulted in such a fashion.

It's something new in MY experience."
Whereat Mrs. Rachel swept out and away--if a fat woman who

always waddled COULD be said to sweep away--and Marilla with
a very solemn face betook herself to the east gable.

On the way upstairs she pondered uneasily as to what
she ought to do. She felt no little dismay over the

scene that had just been enacted. How unfortunate that
Anne should have displayed such temper before Mrs. Rachel

Lynde, of all people! Then Marilla suddenly became aware
of an uncomfortable and rebuking consciousness that she

felt more humiliation over this than sorrow over the
discovery of such a serious defect in Anne's disposition.

And how was she to punish her? The amiablesuggestion of
the birch switch--to the efficiency of which all of Mrs.

Rachel's own children could have borne smarting testimony--
did not appeal to Marilla. She did not believe she could

whip a child. No, some other method of punishment must
be found to bring Anne to a proper realization of the

enormity of her offense.
Marilla found Anne face downward on her bed, crying

bitterly, quite oblivious of muddy boots on a clean
counterpane.

"Anne," she said not ungently.
No answer.

"Anne," with greater severity, "get off that bed this
minute and listen to what I have to say to you."

Anne squirmed off the bed and sat rigidly on a chair
beside it, her face swollen and tear-stained and her eyes

fixed stubbornly on the floor.
"This is a nice way for you to behave. Anne! Aren't you

ashamed of yourself?"
"She hadn't any right to call me ugly and redheaded,"

retorted Anne, evasive and defiant.
"You hadn't any right to fly into such a fury and talk the

way you did to her, Anne. I was ashamed of you--
thoroughly ashamed of you. I wanted you to behave nicely

to Mrs. Lynde, and instead of that you have disgraced me.
I'm sure I don't know why you should lose your temper

like that just because Mrs. Lynde said you were redhaired
and homely. You say it yourself often enough."

"Oh, but there's such a difference between saying a
thing yourself and hearing other people say it," wailed

Anne. "You may know a thing is so, but you can't help
hoping other people don't quite think it is. I suppose you

think I have an awful temper, but I couldn't help it.
When she said those things something just rose right up in

me and choked me. I HAD to fly out at her."
"Well, you made a fine exhibition of yourself I must say.

Mrs. Lynde will have a nice story to tell about you
everywhere--and she'll tell it, too. It was a dreadful thing

for you to lose your temper like that, Anne."
"Just imagine how you would feel if somebody told you to your

face that you were skinny and ugly," pleaded Anne tearfully.
An old remembrance suddenly rose up before Marilla.

She had been a very small child when she had heard one
aunt say of her to another, "What a pity she is such a dark,

homely little thing." Marilla was every day of fifty before
the sting had gone out of that memory.

"I don't say that I think Mrs. Lynde was exactly right in
saying what she did to you, Anne," she admitted in a softer

tone. "Rachel is too outspoken. But that is no excuse for
such behavior on your part. She was a stranger and an

elderly person and my visitor--all three very good reasons
why you should have been respectful to her. You were

rude and saucy and"--Marilla had a saving inspiration of
punishment--"you must go to her and tell her you are

very sorry for your bad temper and ask her to forgive you."
"I can never do that," said Anne determinedly and darkly.

"You can punish me in any way you like, Marilla. You can
shut me up in a dark, damp dungeon inhabited by snakes

and toads and feed me only on bread and water and I shall
not complain. But I cannot ask Mrs. Lynde to forgive me."

"We're not in the habit of shutting people up in dark
damp dungeons," said Marilla drily, "especially as they're

rather scarce in Avonlea. But apologize to Mrs. Lynde
you must and shall and you'll stay here in your room until

you can tell me you're willing to do it."
"I shall have to stay here forever then," said Anne

mournfully, "because I can't tell Mrs. Lynde I'm sorry I
said those things to her. How can I? I'm NOT sorry. I'm

sorry I've vexed you; but I'm GLAD I told her just what I did.
It was a great satisfaction. I can't say I'm sorry when I'm

not, can I? I can't even IMAGINE I'm sorry."
"Perhaps your imagination will be in better working

order by the morning," said Marilla, rising to depart.
"You'll have the night to think over your conduct in and

come to a better frame of mind. You said you would try
to be a very good girl if we kept you at Green Gables, but

I must say it hasn't seemed very much like it this evening."
Leaving this Parthian shaft to rankle in Anne's stormy

bosom, Marilla descended to the kitchen, grievously
troubled in mind and vexed in soul. She was as angry with

herself as with Anne, because, whenever she recalled Mrs.
Rachel's dumbfounded countenance her lips twitched with

amusement and she felt a most reprehensible desire to laugh.