Chapter 14: XIV

XIV Anne’s Confession On the Monday evening before the picnic Marilla came down from her room with a troubled face. “Anne,” she said to that small personage, who was shelling peas by the spotless table and singing “Nelly of the Hazel Dell” with a vigour and expression that did credit to Diana’s teaching, “did you see anything of my amethyst brooch? I thought I stuck it in my pincushion when I came home from church yesterday evening, but I can’t find it anywhere.” “I—I saw it this a…