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"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 amiable suggestion 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.

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