She looked very often at Anne, and Anne, thanks to Marilla's drilling, answered promptly; but it may be questioned if she understood very much about either question or answer.
She did not think she liked Miss Rogerson, and she felt very miserable; every other little girl in the class had puffed sleeves.

Anne felt that life was really not worth living without puffed sleeves.
"Well, how did you like Sunday school ?" Marilla wanted to know when Anne came home.

Her wreath having faded, Anne had discarded it in the lane, so Marilla was spared the knowledge of that for a time.
"I didn't like it a bit.

It was horrid." "Anne Shirley!" said Marilla rebukingly.
Anne sat down on the rocker with a long sigh, kissed one of Bonny's leaves, and waved her hand to a blossoming fuchsia.
"They might have been lonesome while I was away," she explained.

"And now about the Sunday school.