Mrs. Lynde."

Anne clasped her hands together, bowed her head, and
waited for the word of judgment.

There was no mistaking her sincerity--it breathed in
every tone of her voice. Both Marilla and Mrs. Lynde
recognized its unmistakable ring. But the former under-
stood in dismay that Anne was actually enjoying her valley
of humiliation--was reveling in the thoroughness of her
abasement. Where was the wholesome punishment upon
which she, Marilla, had plumed herself? Anne had turned
it into a species of positive pleasure.

Good Mrs. Lynde, not being overburdened with perception,
did not see this. She only perceived that Anne had
made a very thorough apology and all resentment vanished
from her kindly, if somewhat officious, heart.

"There, there, get up, child," she said heartily. "Of course
I forgive you. I guess I was a little too hard on you,
anyway. But I'm such an outspoken person. You just mustn't
mind me, that's what. It can't be denied your hair is
terrible red; but I knew a girl once--went to school with
her, in fact--whose hair was every mite as red as yours
when she was young, but when she grew up it darkened
to a real handsome auburn. I wouldn't be a mite surprised
if yours did, too--not a mite."

"Oh, Mrs. Lynde!" Anne drew a long breath as she rose