Una took it and ate it with a better appetite.

“I’m very fond of doughnuts,” she confessed “Aunt Martha never makes any.  But Miss Susan at Ingleside does, and sometimes she lets us have a plateful in Rainbow Valley.  Do you know what I do when I’m hungry for doughnuts and can’t get any, Mrs. Elliott?”

“No, dearie.  What?”

“I get out mother’s old cook book and read the doughnut recipe—­and the other recipes.  They sound so nice.  I always do that when I’m hungry—­especially after we’ve had ditto for dinner.  Then I read the fried chicken and the roast goose recipes.  Mother could make all those nice things.”

“Those manse children will starve to death yet if Mr. Meredith doesn’t get married,” Miss Cornelia told her husband indignantly after Una had gone.  “And he won’t—­and what’s to be done?  And shall we take this Mary-creature, Marshall?”

“Yes, take her,” said Marshall laconically.

“Just like a man,” said his wife, despairingly.”  ’Take her’—­as if that was all.  There are a hundred things to be considered, believe me.”

“Take her—­and we’ll consider them afterwards, Cornelia,” said her husband.

In the end Miss Cornelia did take her and went up to announce her decision to the Ingleside people first.

“Splendid!” said Anne delightedly.  “I’ve been hoping you would do that very thing, Miss Cornelia.  I want that poor child to get a good home.  I was a homeless little orphan just like her once.”

“I don’t think this Mary-creature is or ever will be much like you,” retorted Miss Cornelia gloomily.  “She’s a cat of another colour.  But she’s also a human being with an immortal soul to save.  I’ve got a shorter catechism and a small tooth comb and I’m going to do my duty by her, now that I’ve set my hand to the plough, believe me.”

Mary received the news with chastened satisfaction.

“It’s better luck than I expected,” she said.

“You’ll have to mind your p’s and q’s with Mrs. Elliott,” said Nan.

“Well, I can do that,” flashed Mary.  “I know how to behave when I want to just as well as you, Nan Blythe.”

“You mustn’t use bad words, you know, Mary,” said Una anxiously.

“I s’pose she’d die of horror if I did,” grinned Mary, her white eyes shining with unholy glee over the idea.  “But you needn’t worry, Una.  Butter won’t melt in my mouth after this.  I’ll be all prunes and prisms.”

“Nor tell lies,” added Faith.

“Not even to get off from a whipping?” pleaded Mary.

“Mrs. Elliott will never whip you—­never,” exclaimed Di.

“Won’t she?” said Mary skeptically.  “If I ever find myself in a place where I ain’t licked I’ll think it’s heaven all right.  No fear of me telling lies then.  I ain’t fond of telling ’em—­I’d ruther not, if it comes to that.”