red that it couldn't have been read at all, and
vowed she was going to stop her subscription immediately. Anne took this
second rejection with the calmness of despair. She locked the story away
in the garret trunk where the old Story Club tales reposed; but first
she yielded to Diana's entreaties and gave her a copy.

"This is the end of my literary ambitions," she said bitterly.

She never mentioned the matter to Mr. Harrison, but one evening he asked
her bluntly if her story had been accepted.

"No, the editor wouldn't take it," she answered briefly.

Mr. Harrison looked sidewise at the flushed, delicate profile.

"Well, I suppose you'll keep on writing them," he said encouragingly.

"No, I shall never try to write a story again," declared Anne, with the
hopeless finality of nineteen when a door is shut in its face.

"I wouldn't give up altogether," said Mr. Harrison reflectively. "I'd
write a story once in a while, but I wouldn't pester editors with it.
I'd write of people and places like I knew, and I'd make my characters
talk everyday English; and I'd let the sun rise and set in the usual
quiet way without much fuss over the fact. If I had to have villains
at all, I'd give them a chance, Anne--I'd give them a chance. There are
some terrible bad men in the world, I suppose, but you'd have to go a
long piece to find them--though Mrs. Lynde believes we're all bad. But
most of us have got a little decency somewhere in us. Keep on writing,
Anne."

"No. It was very foolish of me to attempt it. When I'm through Redmond
I'll stick to teaching. I can teach. I can't write stories."

"It'll be time for you to be getting a husband when you're through
Redmond," said Mr. Harrison. "I don't believe in putting marrying off
too long--like I did."

Anne got up and marched home. There were times when Mr. Harrison was
really intolerable. "Pitching," "mooning," and "getting a husband." Ow!!

Chapter XIII

The Way of Transgressors

Davy and Dora were ready for Sunday School. They were going alone, which
did not often happen, for Mrs. Lynde always attended Sunday School. But
Mrs. Lynde had twisted her ankle and was lame, so she was staying home
this morning. The twins were also to represent the family at church, for
Anne had gone away the evening before to spend Sunday with friends in
Carmody, and Marilla had one of her headaches.

Davy came downstairs slowly. Dora was waiting in the hall for him,
having been made