away. You'll stay and have tea with me, won't you? It's so
lonesome to have tea all by oneself. YOU know, teacher. I've had serious
thoughts of asking Young Mary Joe to sit down and eat her tea with me,
but I expect Grandma wouldn't approve. She says the French have to be
kept in their place. And anyhow, it's difficult to talk with Young Mary
Joe. She just laughs and says, 'Well, yous do beat all de kids I ever
knowed.' That isn't my idea of conversation."

"Of course I'll stay to tea," said Anne gaily. "I was dying to be asked.
My mouth has been watering for some more of your grandma's delicious
shortbread ever since I had tea here before."

Paul looked very sober.

"If it depended on me, teacher," he said, standing before Anne with his
hands in his pockets and his beautiful little face shadowed with sudden
care, "You should have shortbread with a right good will. But it depends
on Mary Joe. I heard Grandma tell her before she left that she wasn't to
give me any shortcake because it was too rich for little boys' stomachs.
But maybe Mary Joe will cut some for you if I promise I won't eat any.
Let us hope for the best."

"Yes, let us," agreed Anne, whom this cheerful philosophy suited
exactly, "and if Mary Joe proves hard-hearted and won't give me any
shortbread it doesn't matter in the least, so you are not to worry over
that."

"You're sure you won't mind if she doesn't?" said Paul anxiously.

"Perfectly sure, dear heart."

"Then I won't worry," said Paul, with a long breath of relief,
"especially as I really think Mary Joe will listen to reason. She's not
a naturally unreasonable person, but she has learned by experience that
it doesn't do to disobey Grandma's orders. Grandma is an excellent woman
but people must do as she tells them. She was very much pleased with
me this morning because I managed at last to eat all my plateful of
porridge. It was a great effort but I succeeded. Grandma says she thinks
she'll make a man of me yet. But, teacher, I want to ask you a very
important question. You will answer it truthfully, won't you?"

"I'll try," promised Anne.

"Do you think I'm wrong in my upper story?" asked Paul, as if his very
existence depended on her reply.

"Goodness, no, Paul," exclaimed Anne in amazement. "Certainly you're
not. What put such an idea into your head?"

"Mary Joe . . . but she didn't know I heard her. Mrs. Peter Sloane's
hired girl, Veronica, came to see Mary Joe last evening and I