it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no
mistakes in it yet?"

"I'll warrant you'll make plenty in it," said Marilla. "I never saw your
beat for making mistakes, Anne."

"Yes, and well I know it," admitted Anne mournfully. "But have you ever
noticed one encouraging thing about me, Marilla? I never make the same
mistake twice."

"I don't know as that's much benefit when you're always making new
ones."

"Oh, don't you see, Marilla? There must be a limit to the mistakes one
person can make, and when I get to the end of them, then I'll be through
with them. That's a very comforting thought."

"Well, you'd better go and give that cake to the pigs," said Marilla.
"It isn't fit for any human to eat, not even Jerry Boute."

CHAPTER XXII. Anne is Invited Out to Tea

"And what are your eyes popping out of your head about. Now?" asked
Marilla, when Anne had just come in from a run to the post office. "Have
you discovered another kindred spirit?" Excitement hung around Anne like
a garment, shone in her eyes, kindled in every feature. She had come
dancing up the lane, like a wind-blown sprite, through the mellow
sunshine and lazy shadows of the August evening.

"No, Marilla, but oh, what do you think? I am invited to tea at the
manse tomorrow afternoon! Mrs. Allan left the letter for me at the post
office. Just look at it, Marilla. 'Miss Anne Shirley, Green Gables.'
That is the first time I was ever called 'Miss.' Such a thrill as it
gave me! I shall cherish it forever among my choicest treasures."

"Mrs. Allan told me she meant to have all the members of her
Sunday-school class to tea in turn," said Marilla, regarding the
wonderful event very coolly. "You needn't get in such a fever over it.
Do learn to take things calmly, child."

For Anne to take things calmly would have been to change her nature. All
"spirit and fire and dew," as she was, the pleasures and pains of life
came to her with trebled intensity. Marilla felt this and was vaguely
troubled over it, realizing that the ups and downs of existence would
probably bear hardly on this impulsive soul and not sufficiently
understanding that the equally great capacity for delight might more
than compensate. Therefore Marilla conceived it to be her duty to drill
Anne into a tranquil uniformity of disposition as impossible and alien
to her as to a dancing sunbeam in one of the brook shallows. She did not
make much headway, as she sorrowfully admitted