knew your
mother never does. I happened to think of it, for a wonder . . . I'm
always forgetting it . . . so I popped a spoonful in."

"It's a case of too many cooks, I guess," said Marilla, who had listened
to this dialogue with a rather guilty expression. "I didn't think you'd
remember about the sugar, Anne, for I'm perfectly certain you never did
before . . . so _I_ put in a spoonful."

The guests in the parlor heard peal after peal of laughter from the
kitchen, but they never knew what the fun was about. There were no green
peas on the dinner table that day, however.

"Well," said Anne, sobering down again with a sigh of recollection, "we
have the salad anyhow and I don't think anything has happened to the
beans. Let's carry the things in and get it over."

It cannot be said that that dinner was a notable success socially.
The Allans and Miss Stacy exerted themselves to save the situation and
Marilla's customary placidity was not noticeably ruffled. But Anne
and Diana, between their disappointment and the reaction from their
excitement of the forenoon, could neither talk nor eat. Anne tried
heroically to bear her part in the conversation for the sake of her
guests; but all the sparkle had been quenched in her for the time being,
and, in spite of her love for the Allans and Miss Stacy, she couldn't
help thinking how nice it would be when everybody had gone home and she
could bury her weariness and disappointment in the pillows of the east
gable.

There is an old proverb that really seems at times to be inspired . . .
"it never rains but it pours." The measure of that day's tribulations
was not yet full. Just as Mr. Allan had finished returning thanks there
arose a strange, ominous sound on the stairs, as of some hard, heavy
object bounding from step to step, finishing up with a grand smash
at the bottom. Everybody ran out into the hall. Anne gave a shriek of
dismay.

At the bottom of the stairs lay a big pink conch shell amid the
fragments of what had been Miss Barry's platter; and at the top of the
stairs knelt a terrified Davy, gazing down with wide-open eyes at the
havoc.

"Davy," said Marilla ominously, "did you throw that conch down ON
PURPOSE?"

"No, I never did," whimpered Davy. "I was just kneeling here, quiet as
quiet, to watch you folks through the bannisters, and my foot struck
that old thing and pushed it off . . . and I'm awful hungry . . . and I
do wish you'd lick a fellow and have done with