30 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 30 A Wedding at the Stone House The last week in August came.

Miss Lavender was to be married in it.

Two weeks later,

Anne and Gilbert would leave for Redmond College.

In a week's time,

Mrs Rachel Lynde would move to Green Gables and set up her lairs and penance in the erstwhile spare room,

Which was already prepared for her coming.

She had sold all her superfluous possessions and was at present reveling in the congenial occupation of helping the Allens pack up.

Mr Allen was to preach his farewell sermon the next Sunday.

The old order was changing rapidly to give place to the new as Anne felt with a little sadness threading all her excitement and happiness.

Changes ain't totally pleasant,

But they're excellent things,

Said Mr Harrison philosophically.

Two years is about long enough for things to stay exactly the same.

If they stay put any longer,

They might grow mossy.

Mr Harrison was smoking on his veranda.

His wife had self-sacrificingly told that he might smoke in the house if he took care of the house.

But he didn't care to sit by an open window.

Mr Harrison rewarded this concession by going outdoors all together to smoke in fine weather,

And so mutual goodwill reigned.

Anne had come over to ask Mrs Harrison for some of her yellow dahlias.

She and Diana were going through to Echo Lodge that evening to help Miss Lavender and Charlotte IV with their final preparations for the morrow's bridal.

Miss Lavender herself never had any dahlias.

She did not like them and they would not have suited the fine retirement of her old-fashioned garden.

But flowers of any kind were rather scarce in Avonlea and the neighbouring districts that summer,

Thanks to Uncle Abe's storm.

And Anne and Diana thought that a certain old cream-coloured stone jug,

Usually kept sacred to doughnuts brimmed over with yellow dahlias,

Would be just the thing to set in a dim angle of the Stonehouse stairs against the dark background of red wallpaper.

I suppose you'll be starting off for college in a fortnight's time,

Continued Mr Harrison.

Well,

We're going to miss you an awful lot,

Emily and me.

To be sure,

Mrs Lind will be over there in your place.

There ain't nobody but a substitute can be found for them.

The irony of Mr Harrison's tone is quite untransferable to paper.

In spite of his wife's intimacy with Mrs Lind,

The best that could be said of the relationship between her and Mr Harrison,

Even under the new regime,

Was that they preserved an armed neutrality.

Yes,

I'm going,

Said Anne.

I'm very glad with my head and very sorry with my heart.

I suppose you'll be scooping up all the honours that are lying around loose at Redmond.

I may try for one or two of them,

Confessed Anne,

But I don't care so much for things like that as I did two years ago.

What I want to get out of my college course is some knowledge of the best way of living life and doing the most and best with it.

I want to learn to understand and help other people and myself.

Mr Harrison nodded.

That's the idea,

Exactly.

That's what college ought to be for.

Instead of a turning out a lot of BAs,

So chock full of book learning and vanity,

There ain't room for anything else.

You're all right.

College won't be able to do you much harm,

I reckon.

Diana and Anne drove over to Echo Lodge after tea,

Taking with them all the flowery spoil that several predatory expeditions in their own and their neighbours' gardens had yielded.

They found the stone house agog with excitement.

Charlotte IV was flying around with such vim and briskness that her blue bow seemed really to possess the power of being everywhere at once.

Like the helmet of Navarre,

Charlotte's blue bows waved ever in the thickest of the fray.

Praise be to goodness you've come,

She said devoutly,

For there's heaps of things to do and the frosting on that cake won't harden and there's all the silver to be rubbed up yet and the horse hair trunk to be packed and the roosters for the chicken salad are running out there Miss Lavender ain't to be trusted to do a thing.

I was thankful when Mr Irving came a few minutes ago and took her out for a walk in the woods.

Courting's all right in its place,

Miss Shirley-Mum,

But if you try to mix it up with cooking and scouring,

Everything's spoiled.

That's my opinion,

Miss Shirley-Mum.

Anne and Diana worked so heartily that by ten o'clock even Charlotte IV was satisfied.

She braided her hair in innumerable plaits and took her weary little bones off to bed.

But I ain't sure I'll keep sleep.

A blessed wink,

Miss Shirley-Mum,

For fear something will go wrong at the last minute.

The cream won't whip or Mr Irving will have a stroke and not be able to come.

He isn't in the habit of having strokes,

Is he?

Asked Diana,

The dimpled corners of her mouth twitching.

To Diana,

Charlotte IV was,

If not exactly a thing of beauty,

Certainly a joy forever.

They're not things that go by habit,

Said Charlotte IV with dignity.

They just happen and there you are.

Anybody can have a stroke.

You don't have to learn how.

Mr Irving looks a lot like an uncle of mine that had one just as he was sitting down to dinner one day.

But maybe everything will go all right.

In this world,

You just got to hope for the best and prepare for the worst and take whatever God sends.

The only thing I'm worried about is it won't be fine tomorrow,

Said Diana.

Uncle Abe predicted rain for the middle of the week and ever since the big storm,

I can't help believing there's a good deal in what Uncle Abe says.

Anne,

Who knew better than Diana just how much Uncle Abe had to do with the storm,

Was not much disturbed by this.

She slept the sleep of the just and weary and was roused at an unearthly hour by Charlotte IV.

Oh,

Miss Shirley,

Ma'am,

It's awful to call you so early,

Came wailing through the keyhole.

But there's so much to do yet.

And Miss Shirley,

Ma'am,

I'm scared it's gonna rain and I wish you'd get up and tell me you think it ain't.

Anne flew to the window,

Hoping against hope that Charlotte IV was saying this merely by way of rousing her effectually.

But alas,

The morning did look unpropitious.

Below the window,

Miss Lavender's garden,

Which should have been a glory of pale virgin sunshine,

Lay dim and windless and the sky over the firs was dark with moody clouds.

Isn't it too mean,

Said Diana.

We must hope for the best,

Diana,

Said Anne determinedly.

If it only doesn't actually rain a cool pearly grey day like this would really be nicer than hot sunshine.

But it will rain,

Mourned Charlotte,

Creeping into the room,

A figure of fun with her many braids wound about her head,

The ends tied up with white thread sticking out in all directions.

It'll hold off to the last minute and then it will pour cats and dogs and all the folks will get sopping and track mud all over the house and they won't be able to get married under the honeysuckle.

And it's awful unlucky for no sun should shine on a bride.

Say what you will,

Miss Shirley,

Ma'am.

I knew things were going too well to last.

Charlotte of the Fall seems certainly to have borrowed a leaf out of Miss Eliza Andrews' book.

It did not rain,

However,

Though it kept on looking as if it meant to.

By noon,

The rooms were decorated,

The table beautifully laid and upstairs was waiting a bride adorned for her husband.

You do look sweet,

Said Anne rapturously.

Lovely,

Echoed Diana.

Everything's ready,

Miss Shirley,

Ma'am,

And nothing dreadful's happened yet,

Was Charlotte's cheerful statement as she betook herself to her little back room to dress.

Out came all the braids.

The resultant rampant crinkliness was plaited into two tails and tied,

Not with two bows alone,

But with four of brand new ribbon,

Brightly blue.

The two upper bows rather gave the impression of overgrown wings sprouting from Charlotte's neck,

Somewhat after the fashion of Raphael's cherubs.

But Charlotte of the Fall thought them very beautiful,

And after she'd rustled into a white dress so stiffly starched it could stand alone,

She surveyed herself in her glass with great satisfaction.

A satisfaction which lasted until she went out in the hall and caught a glimpse through the spare room door of a tall girl in some softly clinging gown,

Pinning white star-like flowers on the smooth ripples of her ruddy hair.