has such a roll to it--just like a big organ playing. You couldn t quite
call it poetry, I suppose, but it sounds a lot like it, doesn t it?
We re not talking about poetry, Anne--we are talking about saying your
prayers. Don t you know it s a terrible wicked thing not to say your
prayers every night? I m afraid you are a very bad little girl.
You d find it easier to be bad than good if you had red hair, said
Anne reproachfully. People who haven t red hair don t know what trouble
is. Mrs. Thomas told me that God made my hair red _on purpose_, and I ve
never cared about Him since. And anyhow I d always be too tired at night
to bother saying prayers. People who have to look after twins can t be
expected to say their prayers. Now, do you honestly think they can?
Marilla decided that Anne s religious training must be begun at once.
Plainly there was no time to be lost.
You must say your prayers while you are under my roof, Anne.
Why, of course, if you want me to, assented Anne cheerfully. I d do
anything to oblige you. But you ll have to tell me what to say for this
once. After I get into bed I ll imagine out a real nice prayer to say
always. I believe that it will be quite interesting, now that I come to
think of it.
You must kneel down, said Marilla in embarrassment.
Anne knelt at Marilla s knee and looked up gravely.
Why must people kneel down to pray? If I really wanted to pray
I ll tell you what I d do. I d go out into a great big field all
alone or into the deep, deep woods, and I d look up into the
sky--up--up--up--into that lovely blue sky that looks as if there was
no end to its blueness. And then I d just _feel_ a prayer. Well, I m
ready. What am I to say?
Marilla felt more embarrassed than ever. She had intended to teach Anne
the childish classic, Now I lay me down to sleep. But she had, as I
have told you, the glimmerings of a sense of humor--which is simply
another name for a sense of the fitness of things; and it suddenly
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