such exceedingexternal neatness that even Green Gables would have

suffered by contrast. The house was a very old-fashioned one,
situated on a slope, which fact had necessitated the building of a

stone basement under one end. The house and out-buildings were all
whitewashed to a condition of blinding perfection and not a weed

was visible in the prim kitchen garden surrounded by its white paling.
"The shades are all down," said Diana ruefully. "I believe that nobody

is home."
This proved to be the case. The girls looked at each other in perplexity.

"I don't know what to do," said Anne. "If I were sure the platter
was the right kind I would not mind waiting until they came home.

But if it isn't it may be too late to go to Wesley Keyson's
afterward."

Diana looked at a certain little square window over the basement.
"That is the pantry window, I feel sure," she said, "because this

house is just like Uncle Charles' at Newbridge, and that is their
pantry window. The shade isn't down, so if we climbed up on the

roof of that little house we could look into the pantry and might
be able to see the platter. Do you think it would be any harm?"

"No, I don't think so," decided Anne, after due reflection, "since
our motive is not idle curiosity."

This important point of ethics being settled, Anne prepared to mount the
aforesaid "little house," a construction of lathes, with a peaked roof,

which had in times past served as a habitation for ducks. The Copp girls
had given up keeping ducks. . ."because they were such untidy birds". . .

and the house had not been in use for some years, save as an abode of
correction for setting hens. Although scrupulously whitewashed it had

become somewhat shaky, and Anne felt rather dubious as she scrambled up
from the vantage point of a keg placed on a box.

"I'm afraid it won't bear my weight," she said as she gingerly
stepped on the roof.

"Lean on the window sill," advised Diana, and Anne accordingly leaned.
Much to her delight, she saw, as she peered through the pane,

a willow-ware platter, exactly such as she was in quest of,
on the shelf in front of the window. So much she saw before the

catastrophe came. In her joy Anne forgot the precarious nature
of her footing, incautiously ceased to lean on the window sill,

gave an impulsive little hop of pleasure. . .and the next moment she
had crashed through the roof up to her armpits, and there she hung,

quite unable to extricate herself. Diana dashed into the duck
house and, seizing her unfortunate friend by the waist, tried to

draw her down.
"Ow. . .don't," shrieked poor Anne. "There are some long

splinters sticking into me. See if you can put something under my
feet. . .then perhaps I can draw myself up."

Diana hastily dragged in the previously mentioned keg and Anne
found that it was just sufficiently high to furnish a secure

resting place for her feet. But she could not release herself.
"Could I pull you out if I crawled up?" suggested Diana.

Anne shook her head hopelessly.
"No. . .the splinters hurt too badly. If you can find an axe you

might chop me out, though. Oh dear, I do really begin to believe
that I was born under an ill-omened star."

Diana searched faithfully" target="_blank" title="ad.忠实地；诚恳地">faithfully but no axe was to be found.
"I'll have to go for help," she said, returning to the prisoner.

"No, indeed, you won't," said Anne vehemently. "If you do the story
of this will get out everywhere and I shall be ashamed to show my face.

No, we must just wait until the Copp girls come home and bind them
to secrecy. They'll know where the axe is and get me out.

I'm not uncomfortable, as long as I keep perfectly still. . .
not uncomfortable in BODY I mean. I wonder what the Copp girls

value this house at. I shall have to pay for the damage I've done,
but I wouldn't mind that if I were only sure they would understand

my motive in peeping in at their pantry window. My sole comfort is
that the platter is just the kind I want and if Miss Copp will only

sell it to me I shall be resigned to what has happened."
"What if the Copp girls don't come home until after night. . .or

till tomorrow?" suggested Diana.
"If they're not back by sunset you'll have to go for other

assistance, I suppose," said Anne reluctantly, "but you mustn't go
until you really have to. Oh dear, this is a dreadful predicament.

I wouldn't mind my misfortunes so much if they were romantic, as
Mrs. Morgan's heroines' always are, but they are always just

simply ridiculous. Fancy what the Copp girls will think when they
drive into their yard and see a girl's head and shoulders sticking

out of the roof of one of their outhouses. Listen. . .is that a
wagon? No, Diana, I believe it is thunder."

Thunder it was undoubtedly, and Diana, having made a hasty
pilgrimage around the house, returned to announce that a very black

cloud was rising rapidly in the northwest.
"I believe we're going to have a heavy thunder-shower," she exclaimed

in dismay, "Oh, Anne, what will we do?"
"We must prepare for it," said Anne tranquilly. A thunderstorm

seemed a trifle in comparison with what had already happened.
"You'd better drive the horse and buggy into that open shed.

Fortunately my parasol is in the buggy. Here. . .take my hat
with you. Marilla told me I was a goose to put on my best hat

to come to the Tory Road and she was right, as she always is."
Diana untied the pony and drove into the shed, just as the first

heavy drops of rain fell. There she sat and watched the resulting
downpour, which was so thick and heavy that she could hardly see

Anne through it, holding the parasol bravely over her bare head.
There was not a great deal of thunder, but for the best part of an

hour the rain came merrily down. Occasionally Anne slanted back
her parasol and waved an encouraging hand to her friend; But

conversation at that distance was quite out of the question.
Finally the rain ceased, the sun came out, and Diana ventured

across the puddles of the yard.
"Did you get very wet?" she asked anxiously.

"Oh, no," returned Anne cheerfully. "My head and shoulders are
quite dry and my skirt is only a little damp where the rain beat

through the lathes. Don't pity me, Diana, for I haven't minded it
at all. I kept thinking how much good the rain will do and how glad

my garden must be for it, and imagining what the flowers and buds
would think when the drops began to fall. I imagined out a most

interesting dialogue between the asters and the sweet peas and the
wild canaries in the lilac bush and the guardian spirit of the garden.

When I go home I mean to write it down. I wish I had a pencil and
paper to do it now, because I daresay I'll forget the best parts

before I reach home."
Diana the faithful had a pencil and discovered a sheet of wrapping

paper in the box of the buggy. Anne folded up her dripping
parasol, put on her hat, spread the wrapping paper on a shingle

Diana handed up, and wrote out her garden idyl under conditions
that could hardly be considered as favorable to literature.

Nevertheless, the result was quite pretty, and Diana was
"enraptured" when Anne read it to her.

"Oh, Anne, it's sweet. . .just sweet. DO send it to the `Canadian Woman.'"
Anne shook her head.

"Oh, no, it wouldn't be suitable at all. There is no PLOT in it,
you see. It's just a string of fancies. I like writing such things,

but of course nothing of the sort would ever do for publication,
for editors insist on plots, so Priscilla says. Oh, there's

Miss Sarah Copp now. PLEASE, Diana, go and explain."
Miss Sarah Copp was a small person, garbed in shabby black, with a hat

chosen less for vain adornment than for qualities that would wear well.
She looked as amazed as might be expected on seeing the curious tableau

in her yard, but when she heard Diana's explanation she was all sympathy.