"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Anne, tears welling into her eyes. "I never
thought you'd mind. The roses and buttercups were so sweet and pretty
I thought they'd look lovely on my hat. Lots of the little girls had
artificial flowers on their hats. I'm afraid I'm going to be a dreadful
trial to you. Maybe you'd better send me back to the asylum. That would
be terrible; I don't think I could endure it; most likely I would go
into consumption; I'm so thin as it is, you see. But that would be
better than being a trial to you."