[Editorial] pedler -> peddler

src/epub/text/chapter-11.xhtml

@@ -12,7 +12,7 @@
 				<p epub:type="title">Anne’s Impressions of Sunday-School</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>“Well, how do you like them?” said Marilla.</p>
-			<p>Anne was standing in the gable room, looking solemnly at three new dresses spread out on the bed. One was of snuffy coloured gingham which Marilla had been tempted to buy from a pedler the preceding summer because it looked so serviceable; one was of black-and-white checked sateen which she had picked up at a bargain counter in the winter; and one was a stiff print of an ugly blue shade which she had purchased that week at a Carmody store.</p>
+			<p>Anne was standing in the gable room, looking solemnly at three new dresses spread out on the bed. One was of snuffy coloured gingham which Marilla had been tempted to buy from a peddler the preceding summer because it looked so serviceable; one was of black-and-white checked sateen which she had picked up at a bargain counter in the winter; and one was a stiff print of an ugly blue shade which she had purchased that week at a Carmody store.</p>
 			<p>She had made them up herself, and they were all made alike⁠—plain skirts fulled tightly to plain waists, with sleeves as plain as waist and skirt and tight as sleeves could be.</p>
 			<p>“I’ll imagine that I like them,” said Anne soberly.</p>
 			<p>“I don’t want you to imagine it,” said Marilla, offended. “Oh, I can see you don’t like the dresses! What is the matter with them? Aren’t they neat and clean and new?”</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-27.xhtml

@@ -37,11 +37,11 @@
 			<p>“Well,” said Marilla sarcastically, “if I’d decided it was worthwhile to dye my hair I’d have dyed it a decent colour at least. I wouldn’t have dyed it green.”</p>
 			<p>“But I didn’t mean to dye it green, Marilla,” protested Anne dejectedly. “If I was wicked I meant to be wicked to some purpose. He said it would turn my hair a beautiful raven black⁠—he positively assured me that it would. How could I doubt his word, Marilla? I know what it feels like to have your word doubted. And <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Allan says we should never suspect anyone of not telling us the truth unless we have proof that they’re not. I have proof now⁠—green hair is proof enough for anybody. But I hadn’t then and I believed every word he said <em>implicitly</em>.”</p>
 			<p>“Who said? Who are you talking about?”</p>
-			<p>“The pedler that was here this afternoon. I bought the dye from him.”</p>
+			<p>“The peddler that was here this afternoon. I bought the dye from him.”</p>
 			<p>“Anne Shirley, how often have I told you never to let one of those Italians in the house! I don’t believe in encouraging them to come around at all.”</p>
-			<p>“Oh, I didn’t let him in the house. I remembered what you told me, and I went out, carefully shut the door, and looked at his things on the step. Besides, he wasn’t an Italian⁠—he was a German Jew. He had a big box full of very interesting things and he told me he was working hard to make enough money to bring his wife and children out from Germany. He spoke so feelingly about them that it touched my heart. I wanted to buy something from him to help him in such a worthy object. Then all at once I saw the bottle of hair dye. The pedler said it was warranted to dye any hair a beautiful raven black and wouldn’t wash off. In a trice I saw myself with beautiful raven-black hair and the temptation was irresistible. But the price of the bottle was seventy-five cents and I had only fifty cents left out of my chicken money. I think the pedler had a very kind heart, for he said that, seeing it was me, he’d sell it for fifty cents and that was just giving it away. So I bought it, and as soon as he had gone I came up here and applied it with an old hairbrush as the directions said. I used up the whole bottle, and oh, Marilla, when I saw the dreadful colour it turned my hair I repented of being wicked, I can tell you. And I’ve been repenting ever since.”</p>
+			<p>“Oh, I didn’t let him in the house. I remembered what you told me, and I went out, carefully shut the door, and looked at his things on the step. Besides, he wasn’t an Italian⁠—he was a German Jew. He had a big box full of very interesting things and he told me he was working hard to make enough money to bring his wife and children out from Germany. He spoke so feelingly about them that it touched my heart. I wanted to buy something from him to help him in such a worthy object. Then all at once I saw the bottle of hair dye. The peddler said it was warranted to dye any hair a beautiful raven black and wouldn’t wash off. In a trice I saw myself with beautiful raven-black hair and the temptation was irresistible. But the price of the bottle was seventy-five cents and I had only fifty cents left out of my chicken money. I think the peddler had a very kind heart, for he said that, seeing it was me, he’d sell it for fifty cents and that was just giving it away. So I bought it, and as soon as he had gone I came up here and applied it with an old hairbrush as the directions said. I used up the whole bottle, and oh, Marilla, when I saw the dreadful colour it turned my hair I repented of being wicked, I can tell you. And I’ve been repenting ever since.”</p>
 			<p>“Well, I hope you’ll repent to good purpose,” said Marilla severely, “and that you’ve got your eyes opened to where your vanity has led you, Anne. Goodness knows what’s to be done. I suppose the first thing is to give your hair a good washing and see if that will do any good.”</p>
-			<p>Accordingly, Anne washed her hair, scrubbing it vigourously with soap and water, but for all the difference it made she might as well have been scouring its original red. The pedler had certainly spoken the truth when he declared that the dye wouldn’t wash off, however his veracity might be impeached in other respects.</p>
+			<p>Accordingly, Anne washed her hair, scrubbing it vigourously with soap and water, but for all the difference it made she might as well have been scouring its original red. The peddler had certainly spoken the truth when he declared that the dye wouldn’t wash off, however his veracity might be impeached in other respects.</p>
 			<p>“Oh, Marilla, what shall I do?” questioned Anne in tears. “I can never live this down. People have pretty well forgotten my other mistakes⁠—the liniment cake and setting Diana drunk and flying into a temper with <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Lynde. But they’ll never forget this. They will think I am not respectable. Oh, Marilla, ‘what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive.’ That is poetry, but it is true. And oh, how Josie Pye will laugh! Marilla, I <em>cannot</em> face Josie Pye. I am the unhappiest girl in Prince Edward Island.”</p>
 			<p>Anne’s unhappiness continued for a week. During that time she went nowhere and shampooed her hair every day. Diana alone of outsiders knew the fatal secret, but she promised solemnly never to tell, and it may be stated here and now that she kept her word. At the end of the week Marilla said decidedly:</p>
 			<p>“It’s no use, Anne. That is fast dye if ever there was any. Your hair must be cut off; there is no other way. You can’t go out with it looking like that.”</p>