Emma knew and answered promptly and cheerfully. She would be whipped, and that severely.
Anne turned this over in her mind. She was very much afraid of the rod which had seldom been used to correct her—but a whipping did not last long, after all, and it would be far worse to give up her beautiful new playhouse. If Miss Farlow wished to whip her for going there, why, Miss Farlow would have to do it. Grown-up people had to have their way. But she wondered if Miss Farlow would not just as lief whip her before she went as after she came back. It would be a pity to spoil the beautiful afternoon with expectation of punishment.
After prayers next Saturday morning, Anne lingered near Miss Farlow's desk.
"Do you wish to speak to me, Anne Lewis?" asked that lady, frowning over a handful of bills.
"If you please—wouldn't you as soon—won't you please whip me before I go out of bounds?" she requested.
"What's that you're saying, Anne Lewis? What do you mean?" asked Miss Farlow.
Anne explained.
"Pity sake!" the bewildered lady exclaimed. She looked at Anne over her spectacles, then took them off and stared as if trying to find out what kind of a queer little creature this was. "Do you mean," she inquired solemnly, "that you'd rather be a bad girl and go out of bounds and be whipped—rather than be good and stay in bounds?"
"If you please, Miss Farlow." Anne stood her ground bravely though her knees were shaking.
"Anne Lewis, if whipping will not make you obey, we must—must try something else," Miss Farlow said severely. She considered awhile, then she asked: "Why are you so anxious to go out of bounds?"