answered Anne dreamily.

This was satisfactory--or should have been so. But Marilla
could not rid herself of the notion that something in her
scheme of punishment was going askew. Anne had no business
to look so rapt and radiant.

Rapt and radiant Anne continued until they were in the
very presence of Mrs. Lynde, who was sitting knitting by
her kitchen window. Then the radiance vanished. Mournful
penitence appeared on every feature. Before a word was
spoken Anne suddenly went down on her knees before the
astonished Mrs. Rachel and held out her hands beseechingly.

"Oh, Mrs. Lynde, I am so extremely sorry," she said
with a quiver in her voice. "I could never express all
my sorrow, no, not if I used up a whole dictionary. You
must just imagine it. I behaved terribly to you--and
I've disgraced the dear friends, Matthew and Marilla, who
have let me stay at Green Gables although I'm not a boy.
I'm a dreadfully wicked and ungrateful girl, and I deserve
to be punished and cast out by respectable people forever.
It was very wicked of me to fly into a temper because you
told me the truth. It WAS the truth; every word you said
was true. My hair is red and I'm freckled and skinny and
ugly. What I said to you was true, too, but I shouldn't
have said it. Oh, Mrs. Lynde, please, please, forgive me.
If you refuse it will be a lifelong sorrow on a poor little
orphan girl, would you, even if she had a dreadful temper?
Oh, I am sure you wouldn't. Please say you forgive me,