tell her. But I think I can
promise you I won't if you promise me that you will never do it again,
whatever it is."

"No, I never will. Anyhow, it's not likely I'd find any more of them
this year. I found this one on the cellar steps."

"Davy, what is it you've done?"

"I put a toad in Marilla's bed. You can go and take it out if you like.
But say, Anne, wouldn't it be fun to leave it there?"

"Davy Keith!" Anne sprang from Davy's clinging arms and flew across the
hall to Marilla's room. The bed was slightly rumpled. She threw back the
blankets in nervous haste and there in very truth was the toad, blinking
at her from under a pillow.

"How can I carry that awful thing out?" moaned Anne with a shudder. The
fire shovel suggested itself to her and she crept down to get it while
Marilla was busy in the pantry. Anne had her own troubles carrying that
toad downstairs, for it hopped off the shovel three times and once she
thought she had lost it in the hall. When she finally deposited it in
the cherry orchard she drew a long breath of relief.

"If Marilla knew she'd never feel safe getting into bed again in her
life. I'm so glad that little sinner repented in time. There's Diana
signaling to me from her window. I'm glad . . . I really feel the need of
some diversion, for what with Anthony Pye in school and Davy Keith at
home my nerves have had about all they can endure for one day."

IX

A Question of Color

"That old nuisance of a Rachel Lynde was here again today, pestering me
for a subscription towards buying a carpet for the vestry room," said
Mr. Harrison wrathfully. "I detest that woman more than anybody I know.
She can put a whole sermon, text, comment, and application, into six
words, and throw it at you like a brick."

Anne, who was perched on the edge of the veranda, enjoying the charm
of a mild west wind blowing across a newly ploughed field on a gray
November twilight and piping a quaint little melody among the twisted
firs below the garden, turned her dreamy face over her shoulder.

"The trouble is, you and Mrs. Lynde don't understand one another," she
explained. "That is always what is wrong when people don't like each
other. I didn't like Mrs. Lynde at first either; but as soon as I came
to understand her I learned to."

"Mrs. Lynde may be an acquired taste with some folks; but I didn't keep
on eating bananas because I was told I'd learn to like them if I did,"
growled Mr. Harrison. "And