Anne sat by, with Honey-Sweet clasped in her arms, and meekly answered,
"Yes, Miss Morris," or "No, Miss Morris," as the occasion demanded.

It was luncheon-time when the unpacking was finished and in the
dining-room Anne met her five room-mates. Fat, freckle-faced, stupid
Amelia Harvey and clever, idle Madge Allison were cousins in charge of
Madge's older sister who was studying art. Annette and Bébé Girard were
pretty, dark-eyed chatterboxes whose father was consul at Havre. Fair,
chubby, even-tempered Elsie Hart was the daughter of a clergyman who was
travelling in the Holy Land.

Anne, who had never in her life had to do a certain thing at a certain
time, did not find it easy to adjust her habits to the routine of school
life. Her morning toilette was especially troublesome. She tumbled out
of bed a little behind time at Louise's summons and during each
operation of the dressing period she fell a little farther behind. In
vain Louise reproved and hurried her.

One Wednesday morning, Anne was especially provoking. Not that she meant
to be. It just happened so. She dawdled over her bath, and when Louise
tried to hurry her, she stopped quite still to argue the matter.

"You want me to be clean, don't you?" she asked.

"But yes! Not to the scrub-off of the skin," protested Louise.

Anne continued to rub her ears. "It's a--a 'sponsibility to wash my own
corners. And Mrs. Patterson says it's a disgrace to be dingy," she
explained.