ANNE had been a fortnight at Green Gables before Mrs. Lynde arrived to inspect her. Mrs. Rachel, to do her justice, was not to blame for this. A severe and unseasonable attack of grippe had confined that good lady to her house ever since the occasion of her last visit to Green Gables. Mrs. Rachel was not often sick and had a well-defined contempt for people who were; but grippe, she asserted, was like no other illness on earth and could only be interpreted as one of the special visitations of . As soon as her doctor allowed her to put her foot out-of-doors she hurried up to Green Gables, bursting with curiosity to see Matthew and Marilla’s , concerning whom all sorts of stories and suppositions had gone abroad in Avonlea.  
Anne had made good use of every waking moment of that fortnight. Already she was acquainted with every tree and about the place. She had discovered that a lane opened out below the apple and ran up through a belt of woodland; and she had explored it to its furthest end in all its delicious of and bridge, fir coppice and wild cherry arch, corners thick with fern, and branching byways of and mountain ash.
 
She had made friends with the spring down in the hollow—that wonderful deep, clear icy-cold spring; it was set about with smooth red sandstones and in by great palm-like of water fern; and beyond it was a log bridge over the brook.
 
That bridge led Anne’s dancing feet up over a wooded hill beyond, where perpetual under the straight, thick-growing firs and spruces; the only flowers there were of delicate “June bells,” those shyest and sweetest of woodland blooms, and a few pale, aerial starflowers, like the spirits of last year’s blossoms. Gossamers like threads of silver among the trees and the fir and seemed to utter friendly speech.
 
All these voyages of exploration were made in the odd half hours which she was allowed for play, and Anne talked Matthew and Marilla half-deaf over her discoveries. Not that Matthew complained, to be sure; he listened to it all with a wordless smile of on his face; Marilla permitted the “chatter” until she found herself becoming too interested in it, whereupon she always Anne by a command to hold her tongue.
 
Anne was out in the orchard when Mrs. Rachel came, wandering at her own sweet will through the lush, tremulous grasses splashed with ruddy evening sunshine; so that good lady had an excellent chance to talk her illness over, describing every ache and pulse beat with such evident enjoyment that Marilla thought even grippe must bring its compensations. When details were Mrs. Rachel introduced the real reason of her call.
 
“I’ve been hearing some surprising things about you and Matthew.”
 
“I don’t suppose you are any more surprised than I am myself,” said Marilla. “I’m getting over my surprise now.”
 
“It was too bad there was such a mistake,” said Mrs. Rachel sympathetically. “Couldn’t you have sent her back?”
 
“I suppose we could, but we not to. Matthew took a fancy to her. And I must say I like her myself—although I admit she has her faults. The house seems a different place already. She’s a real bright little thing.”
 
Marilla said more than she had intended to say when she began, for she read in Mrs. Rachel’s expression.
 
“It’s a great responsibility you’ve taken on yourself,” said that lady gloomily, “especially when you’ve never had any experience with children. You don’t know much about her or her real , I suppose, and there’s no guessing how a child like that will turn out. But I don’t want to discourage you I’m sure, Marilla.”
 
“I’m not feeling discouraged,” was Marilla’s dry response, “when I make up my mind to do a thing it stays made up. I suppose you’d like to see Anne. I’ll call her in.”
 
Anne came running in presently, her face sparkling with the delight of her orchard rovings; but, at finding the delight herself in the unexpected presence of a stranger, she halted confusedly inside the door. She certainly was an odd-looking little creature in the short tight wincey dress she had worn from the , below which her thin legs seemed ungracefully long. Her were more numerous and than ever; the wind had her hatless hair into over-brilliant ; it had never looked redder than at that moment.
 
“Well, they didn’t pick you for your looks, that’s sure and certain,” was Mrs. Rachel Lynde’s comment. Mrs. Rachel was one of those and popular people who pride themselves on speaking their mind without fear or favor. “She’s terrible skinny and , Marilla. Come here, child, and let me have a look at you. heart, did any one ever see such freckles? And hair as red as carrots! Come here, child, I say.”
 
Anne “came there,” but not exactly as Mrs. Rachel expected. With one bound she crossed the kitchen floor and stood before Mrs. Rachel, her face with anger, her lips quivering, and her whole slender form trembling from head to foot.
 
“I hate you,” she cried in a choked voice, stamping her foot on the floor. “I hate you—I hate you—I hate you—” a louder stamp with each assertion of . “How dare you call me skinny and ugly? How dare you say I’m and redheaded? You are a rude, impolite, unfeeling woman!”
 
“Anne!” exclaimed Marilla in .
 
But Anne continued to face Mrs. Rachel undauntedly, head up, eyes blazing, hands , indignation from her like an atmosphere.
 
“How dare you say such things about me?” she repeated . “How would you like to have such things said about you? How would you like to be told that you are fat and clumsy and probably hadn’t a spark of imagination in you? I don’t care if I do hurt your feelings by saying so! I hope I hurt them. You have hurt mine worse than they were ever hurt before even by Mrs. Thomas’ husband. And I’ll never forgive you for it, never, never!”
 
Stamp! Stamp!
 
“Did anybody ever see such a temper!” exclaimed the Mrs. Rachel.
 
“Anne go to your room and stay there until I come up,” said Marilla, recovering her powers of speech with difficulty.
 
Anne, bursting into tears, rushed to the hall door, slammed it until the tins on the porch wall outside in sympathy, and fled through the hall and up the stairs like a whirlwind. A slam above told that the door of the east gable had been shut with equal .
 
“Well, I don’t envy you your job bringing that up, Marilla,” sai............