"Bless my soul, do you mean to say she's got into my wheat?"

"No . . . no . . . not the wheat. But . . ."

"Then it's the cabbages! She's broken into my cabbages that I was
raising for Exhibition, hey?"

"It's NOT the cabbages, Mr. Harrison. I'll tell you everything . . .
that is what I came for--but please don't interrupt me. It makes me so
nervous. Just let me tell my story and don't say anything till I get
through--and then no doubt you'll say plenty," Anne concluded, but in
thought only.

"I won't say another word," said Mr. Harrison, and he didn't. But
Ginger was not bound by any contract of silence and kept ejaculating,
"Redheaded snippet" at intervals until Anne felt quite wild.

"I shut my Jersey cow up in our pen yesterday. This morning I went to
Carmody and when I came back I saw a Jersey cow in your oats. Diana and
I chased her out and you can't imagine what a hard time we had. I was
so dreadfully wet and tired and vexed--and Mr. Shearer came by that very
minute and offered to buy the cow. I sold her to him on the spot for
twenty dollars. It was wrong of me. I should have waited and consulted
Marilla, of course. But I'm dreadfully given to doing things without
thinking--everybody who knows me will tell you that. Mr. Shearer took
the cow right away to ship her on the afternoon train."

"Redheaded snippet," quoted Ginger in a tone of profound contempt.

At this point Mr. Harrison arose and, with an expression that would have
struck terror into any bird but a parrot, carried Ginger's cage into an
adjoining room and shut the door. Ginger shrieked, swore, and otherwise
conducted himself in keeping with his reputation, but finding himself
left alone, relapsed into sulky silence.

"Excuse me and go on," said Mr. Harrison, sitting down again. "My
brother the sailor never taught that bird any manners."

"I went home and after tea I went out to the milking pen. Mr.
Harrison," . . . Anne leaned forward, clasping her hands with her old
childish gesture, while her big gray eyes gazed imploringly into Mr.
Harrison's embarrassed face . . . "I found my cow still shut up in the
pen. It was YOUR cow I had sold to Mr. Shearer."

"Bless my soul," exclaimed Mr. Harrison, in blank amazement at this
unlooked-for conclusion. "What a VERY extraordinary thing!"

"Oh, it isn't in the least extraordinary that I should be getting myself
and other people into scrapes," said Anne mournfully. "I'm noted for
that. You might s