Tuesday afternoon the Aid Society met at Green Gables. Anne hurried home
from school, for she knew that Marilla would need all the assistance she
could give. Dora, neat and proper, in her nicely starched white dress
and black sash, was sitting with the members of the Aid in the parlor,
speaking demurely when spoken to, keeping silence when not, and in every
way comporting herself as a model child. Davy, blissfully dirty, was
making mud pies in the barnyard.

"I told him he might," said Marilla wearily. "I thought it would keep
him out of worse mischief. He can only get dirty at that. We'll have our
teas over before we call him to his. Dora can have hers with us, but
I would never dare to let Davy sit down at the table with all the Aids
here."

When Anne went to call the Aids to tea she found that Dora was not in
the parlor. Mrs. Jasper Bell said Davy had come to the front door and
called her out. A hasty consultation with Marilla in the pantry resulted
in a decision to let both children have their teas together later on.

Tea was half over when the dining room was invaded by a forlorn figure.
Marilla and Anne stared in dismay, the Aids in amazement. Could that be
Dora . . . that sobbing nondescript in a drenched, dripping dress and hair
from which the water was streaming on Marilla's new coin-spot rug?

"Dora, what has happened to you?" cried Anne, with a guilty glance at
Mrs. Jasper Bell, whose family was said to be the only one in the world
in which accidents never occurred.

"Davy made me walk the pigpen fence," wailed Dora. "I didn't want to but