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Miss Rogerson was a middle-aged lady who had taught a Sunday-school class for twenty years.

Her method of teaching was to ask the printed questions from the quarterly and look sternly over its edge at the particular little girl she thought ought to answer the question.

She looked very often at Anne, and Anne, thanks to Marilla's drilling, answered promptly; but it may be questioned if she understood very much about either question or answer.

She did not think she liked Miss Rogerson, and she felt very miserable; every other little girl in the class had puffed sleeves. Anne felt that life was really not worth living without puffed sleeves.

"Well, how did you like Sunday school?" Marilla wanted to know when Anne came home. Her wreath having faded, Anne had discarded it in the lane, so Marilla was spared the knowledge of that for a time.

"I didn't like it a bit. It was horrid."

"Anne Shirley!" said Marilla rebukingly.

Anne sat down on the rocker with a long sigh, kissed one of Bonny's leaves, and waved her hand to a blossoming fuchsia.

"They might have been lonesome while I was away," she explained.

"And now about the Sunday school.

I behaved well, just as you told me.

Mrs. Lynde was gone, but I went right on myself.

I went into the church, with a lot of other little girls, and I sat in the corner of a pew by the window while the opening exercises went on.

Mr. Bell made an awfully long prayer.

I would have been dreadfully tired before he got through if I hadn't been sitting by that window.

But it looked right out on the Lake of Shining Waters, so I just gazed at that and imagined all sorts of splendid things."

"You shouldn't have done anything of the sort. You should have listened to Mr. Bell."

"But he wasn't talking to me," protested Anne.

"He was talking to God and he didn't seem to be very much inter-ested in it, either.

I think he thought God was too far off though.

There was a long row of white birches hanging over the lake and the sunshine fell down through them, 'way, 'way down, deep into the water.

Oh, Marilla, it was like a beautiful dream! It gave me a thrill and I just said, 'Thank you for it, God,' two or three times."

"Not out loud, I hope," said Marilla anxiously.

"Oh, no, just under my breath.

Well, Mr. Bell did get through at last and they told me to go into the classroom with Miss Rogerson's class.

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