Marilla washed and put away the dishes grimly.

Then, wanting a candle to light her way down the cellar, she went up to the east gable for the one that generally stood on Anne's table.

Lighting it, she turned around to see Anne herself lying on the bed, face downward among the pillows.
"Mercy on us," said astonished Marilla, "have you been asleep, Anne ?" "No," was the muffled reply.
"Are you sick then ?" demanded Marilla anxiously, going over to the bed.
Anne cowered deeper into her pillows as if desirous of hiding herself forever from mortal eyes.
"No.

But please, Marilla, go away and don't look at me.

I'm in the depths of despair and I don't care who gets head in class or writes the best composition or sings in the Sunday-school choir any more.