Sitting by himself at a corner desk was Anthony Pye. He had a dark,
sullen little face, and was staring at Anne with a hostile expression in
his black eyes. Anne instantly made up her mind that she would win that
boy's affection and discomfit the Pyes utterly.

In the other corner another strange boy was sitting with Arty Sloane. . .
a jolly looking little chap, with a snub nose, freckled face, and big,
light blue eyes, fringed with whitish lashes . . . probably the DonNELL
boy; and if resemblance went for anything, his sister was sitting across
the aisle with Mary Bell. Anne wondered what sort of mother the child
had, to send her to school dressed as she was. She wore a faded pink
silk dress, trimmed with a great deal of cotton lace, soiled white
kid slippers, and silk stockings. Her sandy hair was tortured into
innumerable kinky and unnatural curls, surmounted by a flamboyant bow
of pink ribbon bigger than her head. Judging from her expression she was
very well satisfied with herself.

A pale little thing, with smooth ripples of fine, silky, fawn-colored
hair flowing over her shoulders, must, Anne thought, be Annetta Bell,
whose parents had formerly lived in the Newbridge school district, but,
by reason of hauling their house fifty yards north of its old site were
now in Avonlea. Three pallid little girls crowded into one seat were
certainly Cottons; and there was no doubt that the small beauty with
the long brown curls and hazel eyes, who was casting coquettish looks at
Jack Gills over the edge of her Testament, was Prillie Rogerson, whose
father had recently married a second wife and brought Prillie home from
her grandmother's in Grafton. A tall, awkward girl in a back seat, who
seemed to have too many feet and hands, Anne could not place at all, but
later on discovered that her name was Barbara Shaw and that she had come