Where is my conscience, Anne?
I want to know.

Is it in my stomach ?" "No, it's in your soul," answered Anne, thankful for the darkness, since gravity must be preserved in serious matters.
"I s'pose I can't get clear of it then," said Davy with a sigh.

"Are you going to tell Marilla and Mrs.Lynde on me, Anne ?" "No, dear, I'm not going to tell any one.

You are sorry you were naughty, aren't you ?" "You bet!" "And you'll never be bad like that again." "No, but--" added Davy cautiously, "I might be bad some other way." "You won't say naughty words, or run away on Sundays, or tell falsehoods to cover up your sins ?" "No.

It doesn't pay," said Davy.
"Well, Davy, just tell God you are sorry and ask Him to forgive you." "Have YOU forgiven me, Anne ?" "Yes, dear." "Then," said Davy joyously, "I don't care much whether God does or not." "Davy!" "Oh--I'll ask Him--I'll ask Him," said Davy quickly, scrambling off the bed, convinced by Anne's tone that he must have said something dreadful.
"I don't mind asking Him, Anne .-- Please, God, I'm awful sorry I behaved bad today and I'll try to be good on Sundays always and please forgive me .-- There now, Anne." "Well, now, run off to bed like a good boy." "All right.