Anne Comes to Grief in an Affair of Honor

Anne had to live through more than two weeks, as it happened.
Almost a month having elapsed since the liniment cake episode,
it was high time for her to get into fresh trouble of some sort,
little mistakes, such as absentmindedly emptying a pan of skim
milk into a basket of yarn balls in the pantry instead of into
the pigs' bucket, and walking clean over the edge of the log
bridge into the brook while wrapped in imaginative reverie, not
really being worth counting.

A week after the tea at the manse Diana Barry gave a party.

"Small and select," Anne assured Marilla. "Just the girls in our class."

They had a very good time and nothing untoward happened until after tea,
when they found themselves in the Barry garden, a little tired of all
their games and ripe for any enticing form of mischief which might
present itself. This presently took the form of "daring."

Daring was the fashionable amusement among the Avonlea small fry
just then. It had begun among the boys, but soon spread to the girls,
and all the silly things that were done in Avonlea that summer because
the doers thereof were "dared" to do them would fill a book by themselves.

First of all Carrie Sloane dared Ruby Gillis to climb to a
certain point in the huge old willow tree before the front door;
which Ruby Gillis, albeit in mortal dread of the fat green
caterpillars with which said tree was infested and with the fear
of her mother before her eyes if she should tear her new muslin
dress, nimbly did, to the discomfiture of the aforesaid Carrie Sloane.
Then Josie Pye dared Jane Andrews to hop on her left leg around
the garden without stopping once or putting her right foot to the
ground; which Jane Andrews gamely tried to do, but gave out at
the third corner and had to confess herself defeated.

Josie's triumph being rather more pronounced than good taste
permitted, Anne Shirley dared her to walk along the top of the
board fence which bounded the garden to the east. Now, to "walk"
board fences requires more skill and steadiness of head and heel
than one might suppose who has never tried it. But Josie Pye, if
deficient in some qualities that make for popularity, had at
least a natural and inborn gift, duly cultivated, for walking
board fences. Josie walked the Barry fence with an airy
unconcern which seemed to imply that a little thing like that
wasn't worth a "dare." Reluctant admiration greeted her exploit,
for most of the other girls could appreciate it, having suffered
many things themselves in their efforts to walk fences. Josie
descended from her perch, flushed with victory, and darted a
defiant glance at Anne.

Anne tossed her red braids.