Chapter XIV - Page 2

sharply. "I know you are. There now, don't say anything more
unless you are prepared to tell the whole truth. Go to your room
and stay there until you are ready to confess."

"Will I take the peas with me?" said Anne meekly.

"No, I'll finish shelling them myself. Do as I bid you."

When Anne had gone Marilla went about her evening tasks in a very
disturbed state of mind. She was worried about her valuable
brooch. What if Anne had lost it? And how wicked of the child
to deny having taken it, when anybody could see she must have!
With such an innocent face, too!

"I don't know what I wouldn't sooner have had happen," thought
Marilla, as she nervously shelled the peas. "Of course, I don't
suppose she meant to steal it or anything like that. She's just
taken it to play with or help along that imagination of hers.
She must have taken it, that's clear, for there hasn't been a
soul in that room since she was in it, by her own story, until I
went up tonight. And the brooch is gone, there's nothing surer.
I suppose she has lost it and is afraid to own up for fear she'll
be punished. It's a dreadful thing to think she tells falsehoods.
It's a far worse thing than her fit of temper. It's a fearful
responsibility to have a child in your house you can't trust.
Slyness and untruthfulness--that's what she has displayed.
I declare I feel worse about that than about the brooch. If
she'd only have told the truth about it I wouldn't mind so much."

Marilla went to her room at intervals all through the evening and
searched for the brooch, without finding it. A bedtime visit to
the east gable produced no result. Anne persisted in denying
that she knew anything about the brooch but Marilla was only the
more firmly convinced that she did.

She told Matthew the story the next morning. Matthew was
confounded and puzzled; he could not so quickly lose faith in
Anne but he had to admit that circumstances were against her.

"You're sure it hasn't fell down behind the bureau?" was the only
suggestion he could offer.

"I've moved the bureau and I've taken out the drawers and I've
looked in every crack and cranny" was Marilla's positive answer.
"The brooch is gone and that child has taken it and lied about it.
That's the plain, ugly truth, Matthew Cuthbert, and we might as
well look it in the face."

"Well now, what are you going to do about it?" Matthew asked
forlornly, feeling secretly thankful that Marilla and not he had
to deal with the situation. He felt no desire to put his oar in
this time.

"She'll stay in her room until she confesses," said Marilla
grimly, remembering the success of this method in the former
case. "Then we'll see. Perhaps we'll be able to find the