at touch of that thin little hand in her own--a throb
of the maternity she had missed, perhaps. Its very
unaccustomedness and sweetness disturbed her. She
hastened to restore her sensations to their normal
calm by inculcating a moral.

"If you'll be a good girl you'll always be happy, Anne.
And you should never find it hard to say your prayers."

"Saying one's prayers isn't exactly the same thing as praying,"
said Anne meditatively. "But I'm going to imagine that I'm
the wind that is blowing up there in those tree tops. When I
get tired of the trees I'll imagine I'm gently waving down here
in the ferns--and then I'll fly over to Mrs. Lynde's garden and
set the flowers dancing--and then I'll go with one great swoop
over the clover field--and then I'll blow over the Lake of
Shining Waters and ripple it all up into little sparkling waves.
Oh, there's so much scope for imagination in a wind! So I'll not
talk any more just now, Marilla."

"Thanks be to goodness for that," breathed Marilla in
devout relief.




CHAPTER XI

Anne's Impressions of Sunday-School