long before, you shouldn t talk that way. It s irreverent--positively
irreverent.
Anne s eyes marveled.
Why, I felt just as reverent as could be. I m sure I didn t mean to be
irreverent.
Well, I don t suppose you did--but it doesn t sound right to talk so
familiarly about such things. And another thing, Anne, when I send you
after something you re to bring it at once and not fall into mooning and
imagining before pictures. Remember that. Take that card and come right
to the kitchen. Now, sit down in the corner and learn that prayer off by
heart.
Anne set the card up against the jugful of apple blossoms she had
brought in to decorate the dinner table--Marilla had eyed that
decoration askance, but had said nothing--propped her chin on her hands,
and fell to studying it intently for several silent minutes.
I like this, she announced at length. It s beautiful. I ve heard it
before--I heard the superintendent of the asylum Sunday-school say it
over once. But I didn t like it then. He had such a cracked voice and
he prayed it so mournfully. I really felt sure he thought praying was a
disagreeable duty. This isn t poetry, but it makes me feel just the same
way poetry does. Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name.
That is just like a line of music. Oh, I m so glad you thought of making
me learn this, Miss--Marilla.
Well, learn it and hold your tongue, said Marilla shortly.
Anne tipped the vase of apple blossoms near enough to bestow a soft
kiss on a pink-cupped bud, and then studied diligently for some moments
longer.
Marilla, she demanded presently, do you think that I shall ever have
a bosom friend in Avonlea?
A--a what kind of friend?
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