‘That was the right way for her to take it,’ said Anne; ’but I still think Mrs. Staunton must be an excessively silly person.  Of course one would wish to keep from hurting people’s feelings, but it really is hardly possible to help it, if they will ride out to meet offence in such a way.’

‘Yet, Anne,’ said her mother, ’you may comfort yourself with knowing that as long as you do what is commanded, set a watch before your lips, you are not likely to wound the feelings of others, however sensitive.’

‘I know, Mamma,’ said Anne, ’that would correct every fault of that kind; but then I hardly know how to do so thoroughly.  And I think sensitiveness is a good thing—­at least, it makes people know better what will hurt others.’

’Be sensitive for others, without being ready to take offence for yourself, then, Anne,’ said Lady Merton.  ’And now that you have fitted the moral to my story, I must go down and help Mrs. Woodbourne to entertain Mrs. Hazleby.’

‘I pity you,’ said Anne.  ’If everyone, or indeed if half the world were like her, I should be more violent in my opinions than Lizzie is.’

‘And what are you going to do?’ asked Lady Merton.

‘I am going to sit in the school-room,’ said Anne; ’I had a special invitation from Dora this morning.’

On going down-stairs, Anne found that Katherine and Harriet had gone to spend the morning with the Mrs. Turner mentioned during the walk to St. Austin’s, as her daughter, Miss Wilhelmina, had engaged to teach Harriet to make wax flowers.  Lucy was up-stairs, writing to Major Hazleby; and Helen was sitting in the school-room, where Elizabeth was teaching the children.  Little Winifred had just finished her lessons, and was skipping off in high glee with her medal round her neck, to tell her mamma that she had gained four good marks.  Dora was perched on a high stool, at Elizabeth’s desk, with a broadly ruled paper before her, on the top of which the words, ’My dear Horace, St. Austin’s Church was consecrated yesterday,’ were to be seen in fair round hand.  No more was visible, for the little girl laughingly laid down her rosy cheek, and all her light wavy curls, flat upon the letter, as Anne advanced and made a stealthy attempt to profit by the intelligence she was sending to her brother.  Edward was standing by Elizabeth, reading Mrs. Trimmer’s Fabulous Histories, for, though five years old, he made very slow progress in English literature, being more backward in learning to read than any of the others had been, excepting Helen.  He did not like the trouble of spelling, and was in the habit of guessing at every word he did not know; and on his very composedly calling old Joe the gardener, ’the old gander,’ Anne burst into an irrepressible giggle, and Helen, sedate as she was, could not help following her example.  They had just composed themselves, when Edward made another blunder, which set them off again, and Elizabeth, who when alone with the children, could bear anything with becoming gravity, also gave way.