27 Anne Of Avonlea Read By Stephanie Poppins

Hello.

Welcome to Sleep Stories with Steph,

Your go-to romantic podcast that guarantees you a calm and entertaining transition into a great night's sleep.

Come with me as we immerse ourselves in a romantic journey to a time long since forgotten.

But before we begin,

Let's take a moment to focus on where we are now.

Take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out with a long sigh.

Now close your eyes and feel yourself sink deeper into the support beneath you.

It is time to relax and fully let go.

There is nothing you need to be doing now and nowhere you need to go.

Happy listening.

Anne of Avonlea This is the second book in the Anne of Green Gables series.

I am delighted to present to you Anne as she has now grown up into an elegant teenager.

Come with me as we hear all the trials and tribulations as she continues on her journey to womanhood.

Chapter 27 An Afternoon at the Stone House Where are you going all dressed up Anne?

Davy wanted to know.

You look bully in that dress.

Anne had come down to dinner in a new dress of pale green muslin,

The first colour she'd worn since Matthew's death.

It became her perfectly,

Bringing out all the delicate flower-like tints of her face and the gloss and burnish of her hair.

Davy,

How many times have I told you,

You mustn't use that word,

She rebuked.

I'm going to Echo Lodge.

Take me with you,

Entreated Davy.

I would if I were driving,

But I'm going to walk and it's too far for your eight-year-old legs.

Besides,

Paul is going with me and I fear you don't enjoy yourself in his company.

Oh,

I like Paul lots better than I did,

Said Davy,

Beginning to make fearful inroads into his pudding.

Since I've got pretty good myself,

I don't mind his being good so much.

If I can keep on,

I'll catch up with him someday,

Both in legs and goodness.

Besides,

Paul's really nice to us second-primer boys in school.

He won't let the other boys meddle with us and he shows us lots of games.

How came Paul to fall into the brook at noon hour yesterday,

Then?

Asked Anne.

I met him on the playground,

Such a dripping figure,

I sent him promptly home for clothes without waiting to find out what had happened.

Well,

It was part of his accident,

Explained Davy.

He stuck his head in on purpose,

But the rest of him fell in accidentally.

We was all down at the brook and Prilly Rogerson got mad at Paul about something.

She's awful mean and horrid anyway,

If she is pretty,

And said that his grandmother put his hair up in curl rags every night.

Paul wouldn't mind what she said,

I guess,

But Gracie Handel laughed and Paul got awful red,

Because Gracie's his girl,

You know,

He's cling gone on her.

Brings her flowers and carries her books as far as the shore road.

He got as red as a beet and said his grandmother didn't do any such thing and his hair was born curly.

And then he laid down on the bank and stuck his head right into the spring to show them.

Now it wasn't the spring we drank out of,

Seeing a horrified look on Marina's face,

It was the little one lower down.

But the bank's awfully slippy and Paul went right in.

He made a bully splash.

Oh Anne,

Anne,

I didn't mean to say that,

It just slipped out,

I thought.

He made a splendid splash,

But he looked so funny when he crawled out all wet and muddy.

The girls laughed more than ever,

But Gracie didn't laugh.

She looked sorry.

Gracie's a nice girl,

But she's got a snub nose.

When I get big enough to have a girl,

I won't have one with a snub nose.

I'll pick one with a pretty nose like yours,

Anne.

A boy who makes such a mess of syruple over his face when he's eating his pudding will never get a girl to look at him,

Said Marilla severely.

But I'll wash my face before I go call tin,

Protested Davy,

Trying to improve matters by rubbing the back of his hand over the smears.

And I'll wash behind my ears too,

Without being told.

I remember too this morning,

Marilla,

I don't forget half as often as I did.

But there's so many corners about a fellow,

It's awful hard to remember them all.

Well,

If I can't go to Miss Lavender's,

I'll go over and see Mrs.

Harrison.

She's an awful nice woman,

I'll tell you.

She keeps a jar of cookies in her pantry,

A purpose for little boys,

And she always gives me the scrapings out of the pan she's mixed up her plum cake in.

A good many plums stick to the sides,

You see.

Mr.

Harrison was always a nice man,

But he's twice as nice since he got married over again.

I guess getting married makes foes nicer.

Why don't you get married,

Marilla?

I want to know.

Marilla's state of single-blessedness had never been a sore point with her,

So she answered amiably with an exchange of significant looks with Anne that she supposed it was because nobody would have her.

But maybe you never asked anybody to have you,

Protested Davy.

Oh,

Davy,

Said Dora,

Primly shocked into speaking without being spoken to.

It's the men that have to do the asking.

I don't know why they have to do it always,

Grumbled Davy.

Seems to me everything's put on the man in this world.

Can I have some more pudding,

Marilla?

We've had as much as was good for you,

Said Marilla,

But she gave him a moderate second helping.

I wish people could live on pudding.

Why can't they live on pudding,

Marilla?

I want to know.

Because they soon get tired of it.

I'd like to try that out for myself,

Said sceptical Davy,

But I guess it's better to have pudding only on fish and company days than none at all.

They never have any at Milty Bolter's.

Milty says when company comes,

His mother gives him cheese and cuts it herself.

One little bit apiece and one over for manners.

If Milty Bolter talks like that about his mother,

At least you needn't repeat it,

Said Marilla severely.

Bless my soul.

Davy had picked this expression up from Mr Harrison and used it with great gusto.

Milty meant it as a compliment.

He's awful proud of his mother.

His folks said she could scratch a living on a rock.

I suppose them pesky hens are in my pansy bed again,

Said Marilla,

Rising and going out hurriedly.

The slandered hens were nowhere near the pansy bed and Marilla did not even glance at it.

Instead,

She sat down on the cellar hatch and laughed until she was ashamed of herself.

When Anne and Paul reached the stone house that afternoon,

They found Miss Lavender and Charlotta IV in the garden,

Weaking,

Raiding,

Clipping and trimming as if for dear life.

Miss Lavender herself,

All gay and sweet in the frills and laces she loved,

Dropped her shears and ran joyously to meet her guests,

While Charlotta IV grinned cheerfully.

Welcome,

Anne.

I thought you'd come today.

You belong to the afternoon,

So it brought you.

Things that belong together are sure to come together.

What a lot of trouble.

That would save some people if they only knew it.

But they don't,

And so they waste beautiful energy moving heaven and earth to bring things together that don't belong.

And you,

Paul,

Why,

You've grown.

You're half a head taller than when you were here before.

Yes,

I've begun to grow like a pigweed in the night,

As Mrs Lynn said,

Said Paul,

In frank delight over the fact.

Grandma says it's the porridge taking effect at last.

Perhaps it is.

Goodness knows.

Paul sighed deeply.

I've eaten enough to make anyone grow.

I do hope now that I've begun I'll keep on till I'm as tall as Father.

He's six feet,

You know,

Miss Lavender.

Yes,

Miss Lavender did know.

The flush on her pretty cheeks deepened a little.

She took Paul's hand on one side and Anne's on the other and walked to the house in silence.

Is it a good day for the Echoes,

Miss Lavender?

Queried Paul anxiously.

The day of his first visit had been too windy for Echoes,

And Paul had been much disappointed.

Yes,

Just the best kind of a day,

Answered Miss Lavender,

Rousing herself from her reverie.

But first,

We're all going down to have something to eat.

I know you two folks didn't walk all the way back here through those beechwoods without getting hungry.

And Charlotte,

The fourth,

And I can eat at any hour of the day.

We have such a blinding appetite,

So we'll just make a raid on the pantry.

Fortunately,

It's lovely and full.

I had a presentiment I was going to have company today,

And Charlotte,

The fourth,

And I prepared.

I think you're one of the people who always have nice things in their pantry,

Declared Paul.

Grandma's like that too.

But she doesn't approve of snacks between meals.

I wonder,

He added meditatively,

If I ought to eat them away from home when I know she doesn't approve.

Oh,

I don't think she would disapprove after you've had such a long walk.

That makes a difference,

Said Miss Lavender,

Exchanging amused glances with Anne over Paul's brown curls.

I suppose snacks are extremely unwholesome.

That's why we have them so often at Echo Lodge.

Charlotte,

The fourth,

And I live in defiance of every known law of diet.

We eat all sorts of indigestible things whenever we happen to think of it by day or night,

And we flourish like green bay trees.

We're always intending to reform.

When we read any article in a paper warning us against something,

We cut it out and pin it up on the kitchen wall so we'll remember it.

Until after we've gone and eaten that very thing.

Nothing has ever killed us yet,

But Charlotte,

The fourth,

Has been known to have bad dreams after we've eaten donuts and mince pie and fruitcake before we went to bed.

Grandma lets me have a glass of milk and a slice of bread and butter before I go to bed,

And on Sunday night she puts jam on it,

Said Paul.

So I'm always glad when it's Sunday night,

For more reasons than one.

Sunday's a very long day on the shore road.

Grandma says it's all too short for her,

And that Father was never found Sundays tiresome when he was a little boy.

It wouldn't seem so long if I could talk to my rock people,

But I never do that because Grandma doesn't approve of it on Sundays.

I think a good deal,

But I'm afraid my thoughts are wildly.

Grandma says we should never think anything but religious thoughts on Sundays.

Teacher here once said every beautiful thing was religious,

No matter what it was about or what day we thought it was.

But I feel sure Grandma thinks sermons and Sunday school lessons are the only things you can think truly religious things about.

And when it comes to a difference of opinion between Grandma and teacher,

I don't know what to do in my heart.

Paul laid his hand on his breast and raised very serious blue eyes to Miss Lavender's immediately sympathetic face.

I agree with teacher,

She said.

But then you see Grandma's brought Father up her way and made a brilliant success of him.

And teacher's never brought anybody up yet,

Although she's helping with Davy and Dora.

But you can't tell how they'll turn out until they've grown up.

So sometimes I feel it might be safer to go by Grandma's opinions.

I think it would,

Agreed Anne solemnly.

Anyway,

Paul,

I dare say if your Grandma and I both got down to what we really do mean under our different ways of expressing it,

We'd find out we both meant much the same thing anyway.

You'd better go by her way of expressing it since it's been the result of experience.

And we'll have to wait until we see how the twins turn out before we can be sure that my way is equally good.