6 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.

That's it.

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 Six All sorts and conditions of men and women A September day on Prince Edward Island hills.

A crisp wind blowing up over the sand dunes from the sea.

A long red road winding through fields and woods,

Now looping itself about a corner of thick set spruces.

Now threading a plantation of young maples with grey feathery sheets of ferns beneath them.

Now dipping into a hollow where a brook flashed out of the woods and into them again.

Now basking in open sunshine between ribbons of golden rod and smoke blue asters.

Air a thrill with the pipings of myriads of crickets,

Those glad little pensioners of the summer hills.

A plump brown pony ambling through the woods.

Two girls behind him fall to the lips with a simple priceless joy of youth and life.

Oh this is a day left over from Eden isn't it Diana?

Said Anne,

Sighing for sheer happiness.

The air has magic in it.

Look at the purple in the cup of the Harvest Valley Diana.

It's coming up from that little sunny hollow where Mr Eben Wright has been cutting fence poles.

Bliss is it on such a day to be alive,

But to smell dying fur is very heaven.

That's two-thirds Wordsworth and one-third Anne Shirley.

It doesn't seem possible there should be dying fur in heaven does it?

And yet it doesn't seem to me that it's a good idea.

It doesn't seem possible there should be dying fur in heaven does it?

And yet it doesn't seem to me that heaven would be quite perfect if you couldn't get a whiff of dead fur as you went through its woods.

Perhaps we'll have the odour there without the death.

Yes,

I think that will be the way.

That delicious aroma must be the souls of the furs,

And of course it will be just souls in heaven.

Trees haven't souls,

Said Practical Diana,

But the smell of dead fur is certainly lovely.

I'm going to make a cushion and fill it with fur needles.

You'd better make one too,

Anne.

I think I shall,

And use it for my naps.

I'd be certain to dream I was a dryad or a wood nymph then,

But just this minute I'm well content to be Anne Shirley,

Avonlea's schoolmaster.

Driving over a road like this on such a sweet,

Friendly day.

It is a lovely day,

But we have anything but a lovely task before us,

Sighed Diana.

Why on earth did you offer to canvas this road,

Anne?

Almost all the cranks in Avonlea live along it,

And we'll probably be treated as if we were begging for ourselves.

It's the very worst road of all.

That is why I chose it.

Of course Gilbert and Fred would have taken this road if we'd have asked them,

But you see Diana,

I feel myself responsible for the AVIS,

Since I was the first to suggest it,

And it seems to me I ought to do the most disagreeable things.

I'm sorry on your account,

But you needn't say a word at the cranky places,

I'll do all the talking.

Mrs Linde would say I was well able to.

Mrs Linde doesn't know whether to approve of our enterprise or not.

She inclines to when she remembers that Mr and Mrs Allen are in favour of it,

But the fact that village improvement societies first originated in the States is a count against it.

So she's halting between two opinions,

And only success will justify us in Mrs Linde's eyes.

Priscilla is going to write a paper for our next improvement meeting,

And I expect it will be good,

For her aunt is such a clever writer.

No doubt it runs in the family.

I shall never forget the thrill it gave me when I found out Mrs Charlotte E Morgan was Priscilla's aunt.

It seemed so wonderful that I was a friend of the girl whose aunt wrote Edgewood Days and the Rosebud Garden.

Where does Mrs Morgan live?

Asked Diana.

In Toronto,

And Priscilla said she's coming to the island for a visit next summer.

If it's possible,

Priscilla is going to arrange to have us meet her.

That seems almost too good to be true,

But it's something pleasant to imagine after you go to bed.

The Avondale Village Improvement Society was an organised fact.

Gilbert Blythe was president,

Fred Wright was vice president,

Anne Shirley secretary,

And Diana Barry treasurer.

The improvers,

As they were promptly christened,

Were to meet once a fortnight at the homes of the members.

It was admitted they could not expect many improvements so late in the season,

But they meant to plan the next summer's campaign,

Collect and discuss ideas,

Write and read papers,

And as Anne said,

Educate the public sentiment generally.

There was some disapproval of course,

And,

Which the improvers felt much more keenly,

A good deal of ridicule.

Mr Elisha Wright was reported to have said a more appropriate name for the organisation would be Courting Club.

Mrs Hiriam Sloan declared she'd heard the improvers meant to plough up all the roadsides and set them out with geraniums.

Mr Levi Bolter warned his neighbours the improvers would insist everybody pull down his house and rebuild it after plans approved by the society.

Mr James Spencer sent them word he wished they would kindly shovel down the church hill.

Eben Wright told Anne he wished the improvers could induce old Josiah Sloan to keep his whiskers trimmed.

Mr Lawrence Bell said he would whitewash his barns if nothing else would please them,

But he would not hang lace curtains in the cow stable window.

Mr Major Spencer asked Clifton Sloan,

An improver who drove the milk to the Carmody Cheese Factory,

If it was true that everybody would have to have his milk stand hand-painted next summer and keep an embroidered centrepiece on it.

In spite of,

Or perhaps human nature being what it is,

Because of Because of this,

The society went gamey to work as the only improvement they could hope to bring about to that fall.

At the second meeting in the Barry Parlour,

Oliver Sloan moved they start a subscription to re-shingle and paint the hall.

Julia Bell seconded it,

With an uneasy feeling she was doing something not exactly ladylike.

Gilbert put the motion it was carried unanimously and Anne gravely recorded it in her minutes.

The next thing was to appoint a committee and Gertie Pye,

Determined not to let Julia Bell carry off all the laurels,

Boldly moved that Miss Jane Andrews be chairman of said committee.

This motion being also duly seconded and carried,

Jane returned the compliment by appointing Gertie on the committee,

Along with Gilbert,

Anne,

Diana and Fred Wright.

The committee chose their routes in private conclave.

Anne and Diana were told off for the Newbridge Road,

Gilbert and Fred for the White Sands Road and Jane and Gertie for the Carmody Road.

Because,

Explained Gilbert to Anne as they walked home together through the haunted wood,

The Pyes all live along that road and they won't give a cent unless one of them canvases them.

The next Saturday,

Anne and Diana started out.

They drove to the end of the road and canvassed homeward,

Calling first on the Andrew girls.

If Catherine is alone,

We might get something,

Said Diana,

But if Eliza's there,

We won't.

Eliza was there,

Very much so,

And looked even grimmer than usual.

Miss Eliza was one of those people who give you the impression life is indeed a veil of tears and that a smile,

Never to speak of a laugh,

Is a waste of nervous energy truly reprehensible.

The Andrew girls had been girls for 50 odd years and seemed likely to remain girls until Catherine,

It was said,

Had not entirely given up hope,

But Eliza,

Who was born a pessimist,

Had never had any.

They lived in a little brown house built in a sunny corner,

Scooped out of Mark Andrew's beech woods.

Eliza complained it was terrible hot in summer,

But Catherine was wont to say it was lovely and warm in winter.

Eliza complained it was terrible hot in summer,

But Catherine was wont to say it was lovely and warm in winter.

Eliza was sewing patchwork,

Not because it was needed,

But simply as a protest against the frivolous lace Catherine was crocheting.

Eliza listened with a frown and Catherine with a smile as the girls explained their errand.

To be sure,

Whenever Catherine caught Eliza's eye,

She discarded the smile in guilty confusion,

But it crept back the next moment.

If I had money to waste,

Said Eliza grimly,

I'd burn it up and have the fun of seeing a blaze,

Maybe,

But I wouldn't give it to that whore,

Not a cent.

It's no benefit to the settlement,

Just a place for young folks to meet and carry on when there's better to be home in their beds.

Oh,

Eliza,

Young folks must have some amusement,

Protested Catherine.

I don't see the necessity.

We didn't gad about to halls and places when we were young,

Catherine Andrews.

This world is getting worse every day.

I think it's getting better,

Said Catherine firmly.

You think?

You think?

Miss Eliza's voice expressed the utmost contempt.

It doesn't dignify what you think,

Catherine Andrews.

Facts is facts.

Well,

I always like to look on the bright side,

Eliza.

There isn't any bright side.

Oh,

Indeed there is,

Cried Anne,

Who couldn't endure such heresy in silence.

Why,

There are ever so many bright sides,

Miss Andrews.

It really is a beautiful world.

You won't have such a high opinion of it when you've lived in it as long as I have,

Retorted Miss Eliza sourly,

And you won't be so enthusiastic about improving it either.

How is your mother,

Diana?

Dear me,

But she's failed of late.

She looks terrible run down.

And how long is it before Marilla expects to be stone blind,

Anne?

The doctor thinks her eyes will not get any worse if she's very careful,

Thoughted Anne.

Eliza shook her head.

Doesn't always talk like that just to keep people cheered up.

I wouldn't have much hope if I was her.

It's best to be prepared for the worst.

Taughten't we to be prepared for the best too,

Pleaded Anne.

It's just as likely to happen as the worst.

Not in my experience,

And I've 57 years to set against your 16,

Retorted Eliza.

Going are you?

Well,

I hope this new society of yours will be able to keep Avonlea from running any further downhill.

I haven't much hope of it.

Anne and Diana got themselves thankfully out and drove away as fast as the fat pony could go.

As they rounded the curve below the beech wood,

A plump figure came speeding over Mr.

Andrew's pasture,

Waving to them excitedly.

It was Catherine Andrews,

And she was so out of breath she could hardly speak,

But she thrust a couple of quarters into Anne's hand.

That's my contribution to painting the hall,

She gasped.

I'd like to give you a dollar,

But I don't dare take any more for my egg money,

For Eliza would find out if I did.

I'm really interested in your society,

And I believe you're going to do a lot of good.

I'm an optimist.

I have to be living with Eliza.

I must hurry back now before she misses me.

She thinks I'm feeding the hens.

I hope you'll have good luck canvassing and don't be cast down over what Eliza said.

The world is getting better.

It certainly is.

The next house was Daniel Blair's.

Now it all depends on whether his wife is home or not,

Said Diana as they jolted along a deep rutted lane.

If she is,

We won't get a cent.

Everyone says Daniel Blair doesn't dare have his hair cut without asking her permission,

And it's certain she's very close to state it moderately.

He says she has to be just before she's generous,

But Mrs.

Lynn said she's so much before that generosity never catches up with her at all.

Anne related their experience at the Blair place to Marilla that evening.

We tied the horse and went to the kitchen door,

Marilla.

Nobody came but the door was open,

And we could hear somebody in the pantry going on dreadfully.

We couldn't make out the words,

But Diana said she knows they were swearing by the sound of them.

I can't believe that of Mr.

Blair,

But he's always so quiet and meek.

But at least he had great provocation from Marilla.

When that poor man came to the door,

Red as a beet with perspiration streaming down his face,

He had on one of his wife's big gingham aprons.

I can't get this darn thing off,

He said,

But the strings are tied in a hard knot and I can't bust them,

So you'll have to excuse me,

Ladies.

We begged him not to mention it and went in and sat down.

Mr.

Blair sat down too.

He twisted the apron around to his back and rolled it up,

But he did look so ashamed and worried that I felt sorry for him,

And Diana said she feared we'd caught at an inconvenient time.

Oh,

Not at all,

Said Mr.

Blair,

Trying to smile.

You know he's always very polite.

I'm a little busy,

He said,

Getting ready to bake a cake,

As it were.

My wife got a telegram today,

Her sister from Montreal's coming tonight.

She's gone to the train to meet her and left orders for me to make a cake for tea.

She writ out the recipe and told me what to do,

He said,

But I've clean forgot half the directions already.

Flavour according to taste,

It said.

What does that mean?

How can you tell?

And what if my taste doesn't happen to be other people's taste?

Would a tablespoon of vanilla be enough for a small layer cake?

I felt sorrier than ever for the poor man,

Marilla.

He didn't seem to be in his proper sphere at all.

I had heard of hen-pecked husbands,

And now I felt that I saw one.

It was on my lips to say,

Mr.

Blair,

If you'll give us a subscription for the hall,

I'll mix up your cake for you.

But I suddenly thought it wouldn't be neighbourly to drive too sharp a bargain with a fellow creature in distress.

So I offered to mix the cake for him without any conditions at all.

He just jumped at my offer.

He said he'd been used to making his own bread before he was married,

But he feared cake was beyond him.

Yet he hated to disappoint his wife.

He got me another apron and Diana beat the eggs,

And I mixed the cake.

Mr.

Blair ran out and got us the materials.

He'd forgotten all about his apron,

And when he ran in again,

It stringed out behind him,

And Diana said she thought he would die to see it.

He said he could bake the cake all right.

He was used to that,

And he asked for our list,

And he put down four dollars.

So you see,

We were rewarded.

But even if he hadn't given a cent,

I'd always feel we'd done a truly Christian act in helping him.

Theodore White's was the next stopping place.

Neither Anne nor Diana had ever been there before,

And they only had a very slight acquaintance with Mrs.

Theodore,

Who was not given to hospitality.

Should they go to the front or the back door?

While they held a whispered consultation,

Mrs.

Theodore appeared at the front door with an armful of newspapers.

Deliberately,

She laid them down one by one on the porch floor and the porch steps,

And then down the path to the very feet of her mystified callers.

Will you please wipe your feet carefully on the grass and walk on these papers?

She said anxiously.

I've just swept the house all over and I can't have any more dust tracked in,

The path's been real muddy since the rain yesterday.

Don't you dare laugh,

Warned Anne in a whisper,

As her and Diana marched along the newspapers.

I implore you not to look at me no matter what she says,

Or I shall not be able to keep a sober face.

The papers extended across the hall and into a prim,

Fleckless parlour.

Anne and Diana sat down gingerly on the nearest chairs and explained their errand.

Mrs.

White heard them politely,

Interrupting only twice.

Once to chase out an adventurous fly,

And once to pick up a tiny wisp of grass that had fallen on the carpet from Anne's dress.

Anne felt wretchedly guilty,

But Mrs.

White subscribed to dollars and paid the money down.

To prevent us from having to go back for it,

Diana said when they got away.

Mrs.

White had the newspapers gathered up before they had their horse untied,

And as they drove out of the yard they saw her busy wielding a broom in the hall.

I've always heard that Mrs.

Theodore White was the neatest woman alive,

And I'll believe it after this,

Said Diana,

Giving way to her suppressed laughter as soon as it was safe.

I'm glad she has no children,

Said Anne solemnly.

It would be dreadful beyond words for them if she had.

At the Spencers,

Mrs.

Isabella Spencer made them miserable by saying something ill-natured about everyone in Avonlea.

Mr.

Thomas Bolter refused to give anything because the hall,

When it had been built 20 years before,

Hadn't been built on the site he recommended.

Mrs.

Esther Bell,

Who was the picture of health,

Took half an hour to detail all her aches and pains,

And sadly put down 50 cents,

Because she wouldn't be there the next time to do it.

Their worst reception,

However,

Was at Simon Fletcher's.

When they drove into the yard,

They saw two faces peering at them through the porch window,

But although they rapped and waited patiently and persistently,

Nobody came to the door.

Two decidedly ruffled and indignant girls drove away from Simon Fletcher's,

Two decidedly ruffled and indignant girls drove away from Simon Fletcher's.

Even Anne admitted she was beginning to feel discouraged.

But the tide turned after that.

Several Sloan homesteads came next,

Where they got liberal subscriptions,

And from that to the end they fared well,

With only an occasional snarl.

Their last place of call was at Robert Dickinson's,

By the pond bridge.

They stayed to tea here,

Although they were nearly home,

Rather than risk offending Miss Dixon,

Who had the reputation of being a very touchy woman.

While they were there,

Old Mrs.

James White called in.

I've just been down to Lorenzo's,

She announced.

He's the proudest man in Avonlea this minute.

What do you think?

There's a brand new boy there,

And after seven girls,

That's quite an event,

I can tell you.

Anne pricked up her ears,

And when they drove away,

She said,

I'm going straight to Lorenzo White's.

But he lives on the Whitesands Road,

And it's quite a distance out of our way,

Protested Diana.

Gilbert and Fred will canvass him.

They're not going around till next Saturday,

And it'll be too late by then,

Said Anne firmly.

Lorenzo White is dreadfully mean,

But he'll subscribe to anything just now.

We mustn't let such a golden opportunity slip,

Diana.

The result justified Anne's foresight.

Mr.

White met them in the yard,

Beaming like the sun upon an Easter day.

When Anne asked for a subscription,

He agreed enthusiastically.

Certain,

Certain,

Just put me down for a dollar more than the highest subscription you've got,

He said.

That will be five dollars,

Said Anne.

Mr.

Daniel Blair put down four.

She was half afraid,

But Lorenzo did not flinch.

Five it is,

And here's the money on the spot.

Now I want you to come into the house.

There's something in there worth seeing,

Something very few people have seen just of yet.

Come in and pass your opinion.

But what will we say if the baby's not pretty,

Said Diana.

Oh,

There'll always be something nice to say about it,

Said Anne easily.

There's always something nice to say about a baby.

The baby was pretty,

However,

And Mr.

White felt he got his five dollars worth of the girl's honest delight over the plump little newcomer.

But that was the first,

Last,

And only time Lorenzo White ever subscribed to anything.

Anne,

Tired as she was,

Made one more effort for the public wheel that night,

Slipping over the fields to interview Mr.

Harrison,

Who was as usual smoking his pipe on the veranda with Ginger beside him.

Strictly speaking,

He was on the Carmody Road.

But Jane and Gertie,

Who were not acquainted with him,

Save by doubtful report,

Had nervously begged Anne to canvas him.

Mr.

Harrison,

However,

Flatly refused to subscribe a cent,

And all Anne's wiles were in vain.

But I thought you approved of our society,

Mr.

Harrison,

She mourned.

So I do,

So I do,

But my approval doesn't go as deep as my pocket,

Anne.

A few more experiences such as I have had today would make me as much of a pessimist as Miss Eliza Andrews,

Anne told her reflection in the East Gable Mirror at bedtime.