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By
this
time
Anne
had
become
aware
that
Diana
was
staring
at
her
in
precisely
the
same
bewildered
fashion
as
Priscilla
had
done
.
It
was
really
too
much
.
“
Oh
,
Diana
,
don
’
t
look
at
me
so
,
”
she
implored
.
“
YOU
,
at
least
,
must
know
that
the
neatest
person
in
the
world
couldn
’
t
empty
feathers
from
one
tick
into
another
and
remain
neat
in
the
process
.
”
“
It
.
.
.
it
.
.
.
isn
’
t
the
feathers
,
”
hesitated
Diana
.
“
It
’
s
.
.
.
it
’
s
.
.
.
your
nose
,
Anne
.
”
“
My
nose
?
Oh
,
Diana
,
surely
nothing
has
gone
wrong
with
it
!
”
Anne
rushed
to
the
little
looking
glass
over
the
sink
.
One
glance
revealed
the
fatal
truth
.
Her
nose
was
a
brilliant
scarlet
!
Anne
sat
down
on
the
sofa
,
her
dauntless
spirit
subdued
at
last
.
“
What
is
the
matter
with
it
?
”
asked
Diana
,
curiosity
overcoming
delicacy
.
“
I
thought
I
was
rubbing
my
freckle
lotion
on
it
,
but
I
must
have
used
that
red
dye
Marilla
has
for
marking
the
pattern
on
her
rugs
,
”
was
the
despairing
response
.
“
What
shall
I
do
?
”
“
Wash
it
off
,
”
said
Diana
practically
.
