Right into the middle of Mr. Allan's prayer burst a series of piercing
shrieks. The minister stopped appalled and opened his eyes. Every head
in the congregation flew up. Lauretta White was dancing up and down in
her pew, clutching frantically at the back of her dress.

"Ow . . . mommer . . . mommer . . . ow . . . take it off . . . ow . . .
get it out . . . ow . . . that bad boy put it down my neck . . . ow . . .
mommer . . . it's going further down . . . ow . . . ow . . . ow. . . ."

Mrs. White rose and with a set face carried the hysterical, writhing
Lauretta out of church. Her shrieks died away in the distance and Mr.
Allan proceeded with the service. But everybody felt that it was a
failure that day. For the first time in her life Marilla took no notice
of the text and Anne sat with scarlet cheeks of mortification.

When they got home Marilla put Davy to bed and made him stay there for
the rest of the day. She would not give him any dinner but allowed him a
plain tea of bread and milk. Anne carried it to him and sat sorrowfully
by him while he ate it with an unrepentant relish. But Anne's mournful
eyes troubled him.

"I s'pose," he said reflectively, "that Paul Irving wouldn't have
dropped a caterpillar down a girl's neck in church, would he?"

"Indeed he wouldn't," said Anne sadly.

"Well, I'm kind of sorry I did it, then," conceded Davy. "But it was
such a jolly big caterpillar . . . I picked him up on the church steps
just as we went in. It seemed a pity to waste him. And say, wasn't it
fun to hear that girl yell?"