“No, I thank you,” laughed Anne.  “She doesn’t want to be a William Tell’s child or a Daniel in the lions’ den.  I was so glad you sent me word to bring Honey-Sweet, Mrs. Patterson,” she continued joyously.  “I wanted to bring her, and it’s so much nicer when she’s invited.”

“I want you to lend her to me a little while,” Mrs. Patterson answered.  “I’ll not make her a William Tell’s child or a Daniel in the lions’ den.  I—­let me whisper it so she’ll not hear—­I want to get her a Christmas present and it is one I can’t select in her absence.”

They made the round of the shops, gay with Christmas decorations and thronged with merry shoppers.  Anne was full of eager excitement.  Mrs. Patterson gave her a little purse full of shining silver pieces, which she was to spend as she pleased.

Anne clapped her hands with delight.  “I’ll buy a present for Elsie,” she said, “and perhaps I’ll get something for Miss Morris and Louise.”

“I would buy a gift for each of my classmates, if I were you,” Mrs. Patterson suggested.  “It is pleasant to remember every one.”

“O—­oh!” Anne’s face clouded.  “But if they haven’t been nice—­”

“Those are the very ones to remember at Christmas time,” interrupted Mrs. Patterson.  “Peace and good will!  If there is any one who has been especially un-nice to you, this is such a good time to be specially nice to that person.”

“But I’m not going to forgive Amelia,” Anne asserted quietly but positively.

“Well, well, dearie! we’ll not talk about anything disagreeable to-day,” said Mrs. Patterson.  “But do you know, I think it would be fun to give Amelia the nicest present of all?”

“Mademoiselle Duroc was pretty bad, too,” said Anne.

“Then what about a nice present for Mademoiselle?” inquired Mrs. Patterson.  “But just as you like, dear.  This is do-as-you-please day for you and Pat.  Now Honey-Sweet and I are going to do a little shopping alone and then we’ll rest and wait for you in the ladies’ room.”

“I like to do what you say,” said Anne, thoughtfully.  “Maybe I won’t hate so bad to give them presents if I make a play of it.  I’ll try.”

She counted out her silver pieces and decided on the price of the gifts that she would choose for each of her teachers and classmates.  Then she shut her eyes and when she opened them she ‘made pretend’ she was Mademoiselle Duroc, moving slow and stately like a parade or a procession, and she chose a stiff little jet-and-gold hair ornament.  Next Anne was Miss Morris.  For a minute she puffed out her cheeks and flapped her arms, imitating the turkey-cock mood.  Then she thrust out her chin, drew down her brows, and hurried along, with her fingers clenched as if she held a handful of exercises.  That was the busy, hard-working, kind-hearted Miss Morris for whom she selected a silver-mounted ink-stand.  There was an enamelled belt pin for finery-loving Annette, a gay set of paper dolls for little Bebe,