Marilla found Anne face downward on her bed, crying
bitterly, quite oblivious of muddy boots on a clean
counterpane.

"Anne," she said not ungently.

No answer.

"Anne," with greater severity, "get off that bed this
minute and listen to what I have to say to you."

Anne squirmed off the bed and sat rigidly on a chair
beside it, her face swollen and tear-stained and her eyes
fixed stubbornly on the floor.

"This is a nice way for you to behave. Anne! Aren't you
ashamed of yourself?"

"She hadn't any right to call me ugly and redheaded,"
retorted Anne, evasive and defiant.

"You hadn't any right to fly into such a fury and talk the
way you did to her, Anne. I was ashamed of you--
thoroughly ashamed of you. I wanted you to behave nicely
to Mrs. Lynde, and instead of that you have disgraced me.
I'm sure I don't know why you should lose your temper
like that just because Mrs. Lynde said you were red-haired
and homely. You say it yourself often enough."