can't help speaking out just what I think and folks must take me as they
find me. If that cow had been in my cabbages now . . . but never mind, she
wasn't, so it's all right. I think I'd rather have your cow in exchange,
since you want to be rid of her."

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Harrison. I'm so glad you are not vexed. I was
afraid you would be."

"And I suppose you were scared to death to come here and tell me, after
the fuss I made yesterday, hey? But you mustn't mind me, I'm a terrible
outspoken old fellow, that's all . . . awful apt to tell the truth, no
matter if it is a bit plain."

"So is Mrs. Lynde," said Anne, before she could prevent herself.

"Who? Mrs. Lynde? Don't you tell me I'm like that old gossip," said Mr.
Harrison irritably. "I'm not . . . not a bit. What have you got in that
box?"

"A cake," said Anne archly. In her relief at Mr. Harrison's unexpected
amiability her spirits soared upward feather-light. "I brought it over
for you . . . I thought perhaps you didn't have cake very often."

"I don't, that's a fact, and I'm mighty fond of it, too. I'm much
obliged to you. It looks good on top. I hope it's good all the way
through."

"It is," said Anne, gaily confident. "I have made cakes in my time that
were NOT, as Mrs. Allan could tell you, but this one is all right. I
made it for the Improvement Society, but I can make another for them."