ard.
A minute later Anne dashed into the kitchen, wringing her hands.

"Anne Shirley, what's the matter now?"

"Oh, Marilla, whatever shall I do? This is terrible. And it's all my
fault. Oh, will I EVER learn to stop and reflect a little before doing
reckless things? Mrs. Lynde always told me I would do something dreadful
some day, and now I've done it!"

"Anne, you are the most exasperating girl! WHAT is it you've done?"

"Sold Mr. Harrison's Jersey cow . . . the one he bought from Mr. Bell
. . . to Mr. Shearer! Dolly is out in the milking pen this very minute."

"Anne Shirley, are you dreaming?"

"I only wish I were. There's no dream about it, though it's very like a
nightmare. And Mr. Harrison's cow is in Charlottetown by this time. Oh,
Marilla, I thought I'd finished getting into scrapes, and here I am in
the very worst one I ever was in in my life. What can I do?"

"Do? There's nothing to do, child, except go and see Mr. Harrison about
it. We can offer him our Jersey in exchange if he doesn't want to take
the money. She is just as good as his."

"I'm sure he'll be awfully cross and disagreeable about it, though,"
moaned Anne.

"I daresay he will. He seems to be an irritable sort of a man. I'll go
and explain to him if you like."

"No, indeed, I'm not as mean as that," exclaimed Anne. "This is all my
fault and I'm certainly not going to let you take my punishment. I'll go
myself and I'll go at once. The sooner it's over the better, for it will
be terribly humiliating."

Poor Anne got her hat and her twenty dollars and was passing out when
she happened to glance through the open pantry door. On the table
reposed a nut cake which she had baked that morning . . . a particularly
toothsome concoction iced with pink icing and adorned with walnuts. Anne
had intended it for Friday evening, when the youth of Avonlea were to
meet at Green Gables to organize the Improvement Society. But what were
they compared to the justly offended Mr. Harrison? Anne thought that
cake ought to soften the heart of any man, especially one who had to do
his own cooking, and she promptly popped it into a box. She would take
it to Mr. Harrison as a peace offering.

"That is, if he gives me a chance to say anything at all," she thought
ruefully, as she climbed the lane fence and started on a short cut
across the fields, golden in the light of the dreamy August evening. "I
know now just how people feel who are being led to execution."