`` Anne Shirley , whatever is the matter with you ? What have you done ? Get right up this minute and tell me . This minute , I say . There now , what is it ? '' Anne had slid to the floor in despairing obedience . `` Look at my hair , Marilla , '' she whispered . Accordingly , Marilla lifted her candle and looked scrutinizingly at Anne 's hair , flowing in heavy masses down her back . It certainly had a very strange appearance . `` Anne Shirley , what have you done to your hair ? Why , it 's GREEN ! '' Green it might be called , if it were any earthly color -- a queer , dull , bronzy green , with streaks here and there of the original red to heighten the ghastly effect . Never in all her life had Marilla seen anything so grotesque as Anne 's hair at that moment . `` Yes , it 's green , '' moaned Anne . `` I thought nothing could be as bad as red hair . But now I know it 's ten times worse to have green hair . Oh , Marilla , you little know how utterly wretched I am . '' `` I little know how you got into this fix , but I mean to find out , '' said Marilla . `` Come right down to the kitchen -- it 's too cold up here -- and tell me just what you 've done . I 've been expecting something queer for some time .
You have n't got XXXXX any scrape for over two months , and I was sure another one was due .
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