Anne Of Avonlea - Chapter 9

"Anne of Avonlea" was written by L. M. Montgomery and published in 1909, following the enormous success of Anne of Green Gables the prior year.

In this second book, Anne Shirley is sixteen years old and returning to Avonlea as the local schoolteacher, determined to be sensible, responsible, and worthy of the life she’s been given.

Chapter 9 follows Anne as enthusiasm meets an unexpected setback. A well-meant effort to improve Avonlea goes amusingly awry, testing Anne’s ideals and her belief in progress.

Embarrassment, community opinion, and quiet resilience all come into play...and Anne begins to learn that even mistakes can leave something worthwhile behind...

Find the full playlist for "Anne of Avonlea" in Insight Timer.

Transcript

Hello there.

Thank you so much for joining me for this continued reading of Anne of Avonlea,

The charming old novel from 1909 by Canadian author Lucy Maud Montgomery.

If you've already been listening along to the previous parts of this book,

You'll know we are meeting Anne Shirley,

The star of Anne of Green Gables,

Now as a 16-year-old,

And this is the second book in the Anne of Green Gables series,

And it centres around themes of friendship and community,

Teaching,

Growing up.

If you haven't heard the preceding parts of this book and you'd like to,

You can certainly look for the playlist for Anne of Avonlea,

And you'll find everything there in order.

But for now,

Let's just take a moment here to have a nice deep exhale,

Letting go of the day,

Letting go of whichever baggage we might be bringing along with us into this moment.

For right now,

There's nowhere else we have to go,

Nothing else we have to be doing,

So we can just relax,

Get ourselves comfortable,

And enjoy the ongoing sweet old tale of Anne of Avonlea.

Chapter nine.

A question of colour.

That old nuisance of a Rachel Lynde was here again today,

Pestering me for a subscription towards buying a carpet for the vestry room,

Said Mr Harrison,

Wrathfully.

I detest that woman more than anybody I know.

She can put a whole sermon,

Text,

Comment,

And application into six words and throw it at you like a brick.

Anne,

Who was perched on the edge of the veranda,

Enjoying the charm of a mild west wind,

Blowing across a newly ploughed field on a grey November twilight,

And piping a quaint little melody among the twisted firs below the garden,

Turned her dreamy face over her shoulder.

The trouble is you and Mrs Lynde don't understand one another,

She explained.

That it's always what is wrong when people don't like each other.

I didn't like Mrs Lynde at first either,

But as soon as I came to understand her,

I learned to.

Mrs Lynde may be an acquired taste with some folks,

But I didn't keep on eating bananas because I was told I'd learn to like them if I did,

Growled Mr Harrison,

And as for understanding her,

I understand that she is a confirmed busybody,

And I told her so.

Oh,

That must have hurt her feelings very much,

Said Anne reproachfully.

How could you say such a thing?

I said some dreadful things to Mrs Lynde long ago,

But it was when I had lost my temper I couldn't say them deliberately.

It was the truth,

And I believe in telling the truth to everybody.

But you don't tell the whole truth,

Objected Anne,

You only tell the disagreeable part of the truth.

Now,

You've told me a dozen times that my hair was red,

But you've never once told me that I had a nice nose.

I dare say you know it without any telling,

Chuckled Mr Harrison.

I know I have red hair too,

Although it's much darker than it used to be,

So there's no need of telling me that either.

Well,

Well,

I'll try and not mention it again since you're so sensitive.

You must excuse me,

Anne,

I've got a habit of being outspoken,

And folks mustn't mind it.

But they can't help minding it,

And I don't think it's any help that it's your habit.

What would you think of a person who went about sticking pins and needles into people and saying,

Excuse me,

You mustn't mind it,

It's just a habit I've got?

You'd think he was crazy,

Wouldn't you?

And as for Mrs Lind being a busybody,

Perhaps she is,

But did you tell her she had a very kind heart and always helped the poor and never said a word when Timothy Cotton stole a crock of butter out of her dairy and told his wife he'd bought it from her?

Mrs Cotton cast it up to her the next time they met that it tasted of turnips,

And Mrs Lind just said she was sorry it had turned out so poorly.

I suppose she has some good qualities,

Conceded Mr Harrison grudgingly.

Most folks have.

I have some myself,

Though you might never suspect it.

But anyhow,

I ain't going to give anything to that carpet.

Folks are everlasting begging for money here,

It seems to me.

How's your project of painting the hall coming on?

Splendidly.

We had a meeting of the AVIS last Friday night and found that we had plenty of money subscribed to paint the hall and shingle the roof,

Too.

Most people gave very liberally,

Mr Harrison.

Anne was a sweet-souled lass,

But she could instill some venom into innocent italics when occasion required.

What colour are you going to have it?

We have decided on a very pretty green.

The roof will be dark red,

Of course.

Mr Roger Pye is going to get the paint in town today.

Who's got the job?

Mr Joshua Pye of Carmody.

He has nearly finished the shingling.

We had to give him the contract.

For every one of the pies,

And there are four families,

You know,

Said they wouldn't give a cent unless Joshua got it.

They had subscribed twelve dollars between them and we thought that was too much to lose.

Although some people think we shouldn't have given in to the pies,

Mrs Lynn says they try to run everything.

The main question is will this Joshua do his work well?

If he does,

I don't see that it matters whether his name is Pye or Pudding.

He has the reputation of being a good workman,

Though they say he's a very peculiar man.

He hardly ever talks.

He's peculiar enough all right then,

Said Mr Harrison dryly.

Or at least folks here will call him so.

I never was much of a talker till I came to Avonlea and then I had to begin in self-defence or Mrs Lynn would have said I was dumb and started a subscription to have me taught sign language.

You're not going yet,

Ann.

I must.

I have some sewing to do for Dora this evening.

Besides,

Davy is probably breaking Marilla's heart with some new mischief by this time.

This morning,

The first thing he said was,

Where does the dark go,

Ann?

I want to know.

I told him it went around the other side of the world,

But after breakfast he declared it didn't,

That it went down the well.

Marilla says she caught him hanging over the well box four times today,

Trying to reach down to the dark.

He's a limb,

Declared Mr Harrison.

He came over here yesterday and pulled six feathers out of Ginger's tail before I could get in from the barn.

The poor bird has been moping ever since.

Those children must be a sight of trouble to you folks.

Everything that's worth having is some trouble,

Said Ann.

Secretly resolving to forgive Davy's next offence,

Whatever it might be,

Since he had avenged her on Ginger.

Mr Roger Pye brought the hall paint home that night,

And Mr Joshua Pye,

A surly,

Taciturn man,

Began painting the next day.

He was not disturbed in his task.

The hall was situated on what was called the Lower Road.

In late autumn,

This road was always muddy and wet,

And people going to Carmody travelled by the longer Upper Road.

The hall was so closely surrounded by firwoods that it was invisible unless you were near it.

Mr Joshua Pye painted away in the solitude and independence that were so dear to his unsociable heart.

Friday afternoon,

He finished his job and went home to Carmody.

Soon after his departure,

Mrs Rachel Lynde drove by,

Having braved the mud of the Lower Road,

Out of curiosity to see what the hall looked like in its new coat of paint.

When she rounded the spruce curve,

She saw.

The sight affected Mrs Lynde oddly.

She dropped the reins,

Held up her hands and said,

Gracious Providence!

She stared as if she could not believe her eyes.

Then she laughed almost hysterically.

There must be some mistake.

There must.

I knew those Pyes would make a mess of things.

Mrs Lynde drove home.

Meeting several people on the road and stopping to tell them about the hall,

The news flew like wildfire.

Gilbert Blythe,

Poring over a textbook at home,

Heard it from his father's hired boy at sunset and rushed breathlessly to Green Gables,

Joined on the way by Fred Wright.

They found Diana Barry,

Jane Andrews and Anne Shirley,

Despair personified at the yard gate of Green Gables,

Under the big leafless willows.

It isn't true,

Surely,

Anne?

Exclaimed Gilbert.

It is true,

Answered Anne,

Looking like the muse of tragedy.

Mrs Lynde called on her way from Carmody to tell me.

Oh,

It is simply dreadful.

What is the use of trying to improve anything?

What is dreadful?

Asked Oliver Sloane,

Arriving at this moment with a banned box he had brought from town for Marilla.

Haven't you heard?

Said Jane,

Wrathfully.

Well,

It's simply this.

Joshua Pye has gone and painted the hall blue instead of green.

A deep,

Brilliant blue.

The shade they use for painting carts and wheelbarrows.

And Mrs Lynde says it is the most hideous colour for a building,

Especially when combined with a red roof that she ever saw or imagined.

You could simply have knocked me down with a feather when I heard it.

It's heartbreaking,

After all the trouble we've had.

How on earth could such a mistake have happened?

Wailed Diana.

The blame of this unmerciful disaster was eventually narrowed down to the Pyes.

The improvers had decided to use Morton Harris paints,

And the Morton Harris paint cans were numbered according to a colour card.

A purchaser chose his shade on the card and ordered by the accompanying number.

Number 147 was the shade of green desired,

And when Mr Roger Pye sent word to the improvers by his son,

John Andrew,

That he was going to town and would get their paint for them,

The improvers told John Andrew to tell his father to get 147.

John Andrew always averred that he did so.

But Mr Roger Pye as staunchly declared that John Andrew told him 157.

And there the matter stands to this day.

That night there was blank dismay in every Avonlea house where an improver lived.

The gloom at Green Gables was so intense that it quenched even Davy.

Anne wept and would not be comforted.

I must cry,

Even if I am almost 17,

Marilla.

She sobbed.

It is so mortifying,

And it sounds the death knell of our society.

We'll simply be laughed out of existence.

In life,

As in dreams however,

Things often go by contraries.

The Avonlea people did not laugh.

They were too angry.

Their money had gone to paint the hall,

And consequently they felt themselves bitterly aggrieved by the mistake.

Public indignation centred on the Pyes.

Roger Pye and John Andrew had bungled the matter between them.

And as for Joshua Pye,

He must be a born fool not to suspect there was something wrong when he opened the cans and saw the colour of the paint.

Joshua Pye,

When thus animadverted upon,

Retorted that the Avonlea taste in colours was no business of his.

Whatever his private opinion might be,

He had been hired to paint the hall,

Not to talk about it.

And he meant to have his money for it.

The Improvers paid him his money,

In bitterness of spirit,

After consulting Mr Peter Sloan,

Who was a magistrate.

You'll have to pay it,

Peter told him.

You can't hold him responsible for the mistake,

Since he claims he was never told what the colour was supposed to be,

But just given the cans and told to go ahead.

But it's a burning shame.

And that hall certainly does look awful.

The luckless Improvers expected that Avonlea would be more prejudiced than ever against them.

But instead,

Public sympathy veered around in their favour.

People thought the eager,

Enthusiastic little band who had worked so hard for their object had been badly used.

Mrs Linde told them to keep on and show the Pyes that there really were people in the world who could do things without making a muddle of them.

Mr Major Spencer sent them word that he would clean out all the stumps along the road front of his farm and seed it down with grass at his own expense.

And Mrs Hiram Sloan called at the school one day and beckoned Anne mysteriously out into the porch to tell her that if the society wanted to make a geranium bed at the crossroads in the spring,

They needn't be afraid of her cow,

For she would see that the marauding animal was kept within safe bounds.

Even Mr Harrison chuckled,

If he chuckled at all,

In private and was all sympathy outwardly.

Never mind Anne.

Most paints fade uglier every year.

But that blue is as ugly as it can be to begin with,

So it's bound to fade prettier.

And the roof is shingled and painted all right.

Folks will be able to sit in the hall after this without being leaked on.

You've accomplished so much anyhow,

But Avonlea's blue hall will be a byword in all the neighbouring settlements from this time out,

Said Anne bitterly,

And it must be confessed that it was.