patiently for his tea in his corner. "She's gadding off somewhere

with Diana, writing stories or practicing dialogues or some such
tomfoolery, and never thinking once about the time or her duties.

She's just got to be pulled up short and sudden on this sort of thing.
I don't care if Mrs. Allan does say she's the brightest and sweetest

child she ever knew. She may be bright and sweet enough, but her head
is full of nonsense and there's never any knowing what shape it'll

break out in next. Just as soon as she grows out of one freak
she takes up with another. But there! Here I am saying the very

thing I was so riled with Rachel Lynde for saying at the Aid today.
I was real glad when Mrs. Allan spoke up for Anne, for if she hadn't

I know I'd have said something too sharp to Rachel before everybody.
Anne's got plenty of faults, goodness knows, and far be it from

me to deny it. But I'm bringing her up and not Rachel Lynde, who'd
pick faults in the Angel Gabriel himself if he lived in Avonlea.

Just the same, Anne has no business to leave the house like this when
I told her she was to stay home this afternoon and look after things.

I must say, with all her faults, I never found her disobedient or
untrustworthy before and I'm real sorry to find her so now."

"Well now, I dunno," said Matthew, who, being patient and wise
and, above all, hungry, had deemed it best to let Marilla talk

her wrath out unhindered, having learned by experience that she
got through with whatever work was on hand much quicker if not

delayed by untimelyargument. "Perhaps you're judging her too
hasty, Marilla. Don't call her untrustworthy until you're sure

she has disobeyed you. Mebbe it can all be explained--Anne's a
great hand at explaining."

"She's not here when I told her to stay," retorted Marilla. "I
reckon she'll find it hard to explain THAT to my satisfaction.

Of course I knew you'd take her part, Matthew. But I'm bringing
her up, not you."

It was dark when supper was ready, and still no sign of Anne,
coming hurriedly over the log bridge or up Lover's Lane,

breathless and repentant with a sense of neglected duties.
Marilla washed and put away the dishes grimly. Then, wanting a

candle to light her way down the cellar, she went up to the
east gable for the one that generally stood on Anne's table.

Lighting it, she turned around to see Anne herself lying on the bed,
face downward among the pillows.

"Mercy on us," said astonished Marilla, "have you been asleep, Anne?"
"No," was the muffled reply.

"Are you sick then?" demanded Marilla anxiously, going over to the bed.
Anne cowered deeper into her pillows as if desirous of hiding herself

forever from mortal eyes.
"No. But please, Marilla, go away and don't look at me. I'm in

the depths of despair and I don't care who gets head in class or
writes the best composition or sings in the Sunday-school choir

any more. Little things like that are of no importance now
because I don't suppose I'll ever be able to go anywhere again.

My career is closed. Please, Marilla, go away and don't look at me."
"Did anyone ever hear the like?" the mystified Marilla wanted to know.

"Anne Shirley, whatever is the matter with you? What have you done?
Get right up this minute and tell me. This minute, I say. There now,

what is it?"
Anne had slid to the floor in despairing obedience.

"Look at my hair, Marilla," she whispered.
Accordingly, Marilla lifted her candle and looked scrutinizingly

at Anne's hair, flowing in heavy masses down her back. It certainly
had a very strange appearance.

"Anne Shirley, what have you done to your hair? Why, it's GREEN!"
Green it might be called, if it were any earthly color--a queer,

dull, bronzy green, with streaks here and there of the original
red to heighten the ghastly effect. Never in all her life had

Marilla seen anything so grotesque as Anne's hair at that moment.
"Yes, it's green," moaned Anne. "I thought nothing could be as

bad as red hair. But now I know it's ten times worse to have
green hair. Oh, Marilla, you little know how utterly wretched I am."

"I little know how you got into this fix, but I mean to find
out," said Marilla. "Come right down to the kitchen--it's too

cold up here--and tell me just what you've done. I've been
expecting something queer for some time. You haven't got into

any scrape for over two months, and I was sure another one was
due. Now, then, what did you do to your hair?"

"I dyed it."
"Dyed it! Dyed your hair! Anne Shirley, didn't you know it was a

wicked thing to do?"
"Yes, I knew it was a little wicked," admitted Anne. "But I

thought it was worth while to be a little wicked to get rid of
red hair. I counted the cost, Marilla. Besides, I meant to be

extra good in other ways to make up for it."
"Well," said Marilla sarcastically, "if I'd decided it was worth

while to dye my hair I'd have dyed it a decent color at least. I
wouldn't have dyed it green."

"But I didn't mean to dye it green, Marilla," protested Anne
dejectedly. "If I was wicked I meant to be wicked to some

purpose. He said it would turn my hair a beautiful raven
black--he positivelyassured me that it would. How could I doubt

his word, Marilla? I know what it feels like to have your word
doubted. And Mrs. Allan says we should never suspect anyone of

not telling us the truth unless we have proof that they're not.
I have proof now--green hair is proof enough for anybody. But I

hadn't then and I believed every word he said IMPLICITLY."
"Who said? Who are you talking about?"

"The peddler that was here this afternoon. I bought the dye from him."
"Anne Shirley, how often have I told you never to let one of those

Italians in the house! I don't believe in encouraging them to come
around at all."

"Oh, I didn't let him in the house. I remembered what you told
me, and I went out, carefully shut the door, and looked at his

things on the step. Besides, he wasn't an Italian--he was a
German Jew. He had a big box full of very interesting things and

he told me he was working hard to make enough money to bring his
wife and children out from Germany. He spoke so feelingly about

them that it touched my heart. I wanted to buy something from
him to help him in such a worthy object. Then all at once I saw

the bottle of hair dye. The peddler said it was warranted to dye
any hair a beautiful raven black and wouldn't wash off. In a

trice I saw myself with beautiful raven-black hair and the
temptation was irresistible. But the price of the bottle was

seventy-five cents and I had only fifty cents left out of my
chicken money. I think the peddler had a very kind heart, for he

said that, seeing it was me, he'd sell it for fifty cents and
that was just giving it away. So I bought it, and as soon as he

had gone I came up here and applied it with an old hairbrush as
the directions said. I used up the whole bottle, and oh,

Marilla, when I saw the dreadful color it turned my hair I
repented of being wicked, I can tell you. And I've been

repenting ever since."
"Well, I hope you'll repent to good purpose," said Marilla

severely, "and that you've got your eyes opened to where your
vanity has led you, Anne. Goodness knows what's to be done. I

suppose the first thing is to give your hair a good washing and
see if that will do any good."

Accordingly, Anne washed her hair, scrubbing it vigorously with
soap and water, but for all the difference it made she might as