evening.

"I don't see what you want to be traipsing about after dark for,"
said Marilla shortly. "You and Diana walked home from school

together and then stood down there in the snow for half an hour
more, your tongues going the whole blessed time, clickety-clack.

So I don't think you're very badly off to see her again."
"But she wants to see me," pleaded Anne. "She has something very

important to tell me."
"How do you know she has?"

"Because she just signaled to me from her window. We have
arranged a way to signal with our candles and cardboard. We set

the candle on the window sill and make flashes by passing the
cardboard back and forth. So many flashes mean a certain thing.

It was my idea, Marilla."
"I'll warrant you it was," said Marilla emphatically. "And the

next thing you'll be setting fire to the curtains with your
signaling nonsense."

"Oh, we're very careful, Marilla. And it's so interesting. Two
flashes mean, `Are you there?' Three mean `yes' and four `no.'

Five mean, `Come over as soon as possible, because I have
something important to reveal.' Diana has just signaled five

flashes, and I'm really suffering to know what it is."
"Well, you needn't suffer any longer," said Marilla

sarcastically. "You can go, but you're to be back here in just
ten minutes, remember that."

Anne did remember it and was back in the stipulated time,
although probably no mortal will ever know just what it cost her

to confine the discussion of Diana's important communication
within the limits of ten minutes. But at least she had made good

use of them.
"Oh, Marilla, what do you think? You know tomorrow is Diana's

birthday. Well, her mother told her she could ask me to go home
with her from school and stay all night with her. And her

cousins are coming over from Newbridge in a big pung sleigh to
go to the Debating Club concert at the hall tomorrow night. And

they are going to take Diana and me to the concert--if you'll let
me go, that is. You will, won't you, Marilla? Oh, I feel so

excited."
"You can calm down then, because you're not going. You're better

at home in your own bed, and as for that club concert, it's all
nonsense, and little girls should not be allowed to go out to

such places at all."
"I'm sure the Debating Club is a most respectable affair,"

pleaded Anne.
"I'm not saying it isn't. But you're not going to begin gadding

about to concerts and staying out all hours of the night. Pretty
doings for children. I'm surprised at Mrs. Barry's letting

Diana go."
"But it's such a very special occasion," mourned Anne, on the

verge of tears. "Diana has only one birthday in a year. It
isn't as if birthdays were common things, Marilla. Prissy

Andrews is going to recite `Curfew Must Not Ring Tonight.' That
is such a good moral piece, Marilla, I'm sure it would do me lots

of good to hear it. And the choir are going to sing four lovely
pathetic songs that are pretty near as good as hymns. And oh,

Marilla, the minister is going to take part; yes, indeed,
he is; he's going to give an address. That will be just about

the same thing as a sermon. Please, mayn't I go, Marilla?"
"You heard what I said, Anne, didn't you? Take off your boots

now and go to bed. It's past eight."
"There's just one more thing, Marilla," said Anne, with the air

of producing the last shot in her locker. "Mrs. Barry told
Diana that we might sleep in the spare-room bed. Think of the

honor of your little Anne being put in the spare-room bed."
"It's an honor you'll have to get along without. Go to bed,

Anne, and don't let me hear another word out of you."
When Anne, with tears rolling over her cheeks, had gone

sorrowfully upstairs, Matthew, who had been apparently sound
asleep on the lounge during the whole dialogue, opened his eyes

and said decidedly:
"Well now, Marilla, I think you ought to let Anne go."

"I don't then," retorted Marilla. "Who's bringing this child up,
Matthew, you or me?"

"Well now, you," admitted Matthew.
"Don't interfere then."

"Well now, I ain't interfering. It ain't interfering to have
your own opinion. And my opinion is that you ought to let Anne

go."
"You'd think I ought to let Anne go to the moon if she took the

notion, I've no doubt" was Marilla's amiable rejoinder. "I might
have let her spend the night with Diana, if that was all. But I

don't approve of this concert plan. She'd go there and catch
cold like as not, and have her head filled up with nonsense and

excitement. It would unsettle her for a week. I understand that
child's disposition and what's good for it better than you,

Matthew."
"I think you ought to let Anne go," repeated Matthew firmly.

Argument was not his strong point, but holding fast to his
opinion certainly was. Marilla gave a gasp of helplessness and

took refuge in silence. The next morning, when Anne was washing
the breakfast dishes in the pantry, Matthew paused on his way out

to the barn to say to Marilla again:
"I think you ought to let Anne go, Marilla."

For a moment Marilla looked things not lawful to be uttered.
Then she yielded to the inevitable and said tartly:

"Very well, she can go, since nothing else'll please you."
Anne flew out of the pantry, dripping dishcloth in hand.

"Oh, Marilla, Marilla, say those blessed words again."
"I guess once is enough to say them. This is Matthew's doings

and I wash my hands of it. If you catch pneumoniasleeping in a
strange bed or coming out of that hot hall in the middle of the

night, don't blame me, blame Matthew. Anne Shirley, you're
dripping greasy water all over the floor. I never saw such a

careless child."
"Oh, I know I'm a great trial to you, Marilla," said Anne

repentantly. "I make so many mistakes. But then just think of
all the mistakes I don't make, although I might. I'll get some

sand and scrub up the spots before I go to school. Oh, Marilla,
my heart was just set on going to that concert. I never was to a

concert in my life, and when the other girls talk about them in
school I feel so out of it. You didn't know just how I felt

about it, but you see Matthew did. Matthew understands me, and
it's so nice to be understood, Marilla."

Anne was too excited to do herself justice as to lessons that
morning in school. Gilbert Blythe spelled her down in class and

left her clear out of sight in mentalarithmetic. Anne's
consequent humiliation was less than it might have been, however,

in view of the concert and the spare-room bed. She and Diana
talked so constantly about it all day that with a stricter

teacher than Mr. Phillips dire disgrace must inevitably have
been their portion.

Anne felt that she could not have borne it if she had not been
going to the concert, for nothing else was discussed that day in

school. The Avonlea Debating Club, which met fortnightly all
winter, had had several smaller free entertainments; but this was

to be a big affair, admission ten cents, in aid of the library.
The Avonlea young people had been practicing for weeks, and all

the scholars were especially interested in it by reason of older
brothers and sisters who were going to take part. Everybody in