Anne's Impressions of Sunday-School

"Oh, I AM grateful," protested Anne. "But I'd be ever
so much gratefuller if--if you'd made just one of them
with puffed sleeves. Puffed sleeves are so fashionable now.
It would give me such a thrill, Marilla, just to wear a dress
with puffed sleeves."

"Well, you'll have to do without your thrill. I hadn't any
material to waste on puffed sleeves. I think they are
ridiculous-looking things anyhow. I prefer the plain,
sensible ones."

"But I'd rather look ridiculous when everybody else does than
plain and sensible all by myself," persisted Anne mournfully.

"Trust you for that! Well, hang those dresses carefully
up in your closet, and then sit down and learn the Sunday
school lesson. I got a quarterly from Mr. Bell for you and
you'll go to Sunday school tomorrow," said Marilla, disap-
pearing downstairs in high dudgeon.

Anne clasped her hands and looked at the dresses.

"I did hope there would be a white one with puffed
sleeves," she whispered disconsolately. "I prayed for one,
but I didn't much expect it on that account. I didn't
suppose God would have time to bother about a little
orphan girl's dress. I knew I'd just have to depend on
Marilla for it. Well, fortunately I can imagine that one
of them is of snow-white muslin with lovely lace frills and
three-puffed sleeves."

The next morning warnings of a sick headache prevented
Marilla from going to Sunday-school with Anne.