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    Chapter XII

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    CHAPTER XII

    A Solemn Vow and Promise

    It was not until the next Friday that Marilla heard the
    story of the flower-wreathed hat. She came home from
    Mrs. Lynde's and called Anne to account.

    "Anne, Mrs. Rachel says you went to church last Sunday
    with your hat rigged out ridiculous with roses and
    buttercups. What on earth put you up to such a caper?
    A pretty-looking object you must have been!"

    "Oh. I know pink and yellow aren't becoming to me," began Anne.

    "Becoming fiddlesticks! It was putting flowers on your
    hat at all, no matter what color they were, that was
    ridiculous. You are the most aggravating child!"

    "I don't see why it's any more ridiculous to wear flowers
    on your hat than on your dress," protested Anne. "Lots of
    little girls there had bouquets pinned on their dresses.
    What's the difference?"

    Marilla was not to be drawn from the safe concrete into
    dubious paths of the abstract.

    "Don't answer me back like that, Anne. It was very silly
    of you to do such a thing. Never let me catch you at such a
    trick again. Mrs. Rachel says she thought she would sink
    through the floor when she come in all rigged out like
    that. She couldn't get near enough to tell you to take
    them off till it was too late. She says people talked about
    it something dreadful. Of course they would think I had no
    better sense than to let you go decked out like that."

    "Oh, I'm so sorry," said Anne, tears welling into her eyes.
    "I never thought you'd mind. The roses and buttercups
    were so sweet and pretty I thought they'd look lovely
    on my hat. Lots of the little girls had artificial flowers
    on their hats. I'm afraid I'm going to be a dreadful trial
    to you. Maybe you'd better send me back to the asylum.
    That would be terrible; I don't think I could endure it;
    most likely I would go into consumption; I'm so thin as it is,
    you see. But that would be better than being a trial to you."

    "Nonsense," said Marilla, vexed at herself for having
    made the child cry. "I don't want to send you back to the
    asylum, I'm sure. All I want is that you should behave like
    other little girls and not make yourself ridiculous. Don't
    cry any more. I've got some news for you. Diana Barry came

    home this afternoon. I'm going up to see if I can borrow a
    skirt pattern from Mrs. Barry, and if you like you can
    come with me and get acquainted with Diana."

    Anne rose to her feet, with clasped hands, the tears still
    glistening on her cheeks; the dish towel she had been
    hemming slipped unheeded to the floor.

    "Oh, Marilla, I'm frightened--now that it has come I'm
    actually frightened. What if she shouldn't like me! It
    would be the most tragical disappointment of my life."
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