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 19.
Just a happy day.
Just a happy day.
After all,
Anne had said to Merola once,
I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens,
But just those that bring simple little pleasures,
Following one another softly like pearls slipping off a string.
Life at Green Gables was full of such days,
For Anne's adventures and misadventures,
Like those of other people,
Did not all happen at once,
But were sprinkled over the year with long stretches of harmless happy days in between,
Filled with work and dreams and laughter and lessons.
Such a day came late in the evening,
Such a day came late in the evening,
The delighted twins down the pond to the sand shore to pick sweet grass and paddle in the surf,
Over which the wind was harping an old lyric learned when the world was young.
In the afternoon,
Anne walked to the old Irving place to see Paul.
She found him stretched out on the grassy bank beside the thick fir grove that sheltered the house on the north,
Absorbed in a book of fairy tales.
He sprang up radiantly at sight of her.
Oh,
I'm so glad you've come,
Teacher,
He said eagerly,
Because Grandma's away.
You'll stay and have tea with me,
Won't you?
It's so lonesome to have tea all by oneself.
You know,
Teacher,
I've had serious thoughts of asking young Mary Jo to sit down and eat her tea with me,
But I expect Grandma wouldn't approve.
She said the French have to be kept in their place.
And anyhow,
It's difficult to talk with young Mary Jo.
She just laughs and says,
Well,
You're as best as the kids I've ever known.
That isn't my idea of conversation.
Of course I'll stay to tea,
Said Anne gaily.
I was dying to be asked.
My mouth has been watering for some more of your grandma's delicious shortbread ever since I had tea here before.
Paul looked very sober.
If it depended on me,
Teacher,
He said,
Standing before Anne with his hands in his pockets and his beautiful little face shadowed with sudden care.
You should have shortbread with the right goodwill.
But it depends on Mary Jo.
I heard Grandma tell her before she left she wasn't going to give me any shortcake as it was too rich for little boy's stomachs.
But maybe Mary Jo will cut some for you if I promise I won't eat any.
Let's just hope for the best.
Yes,
Let us,
Agreed Anne,
Whom this cheerful philosophy suited exactly.
And if Mary Jo proves hard-hearted and won't give me any shortbread,
It doesn't matter in the least,
So you're not to worry over that.
You're sure you won't mind if she doesn't,
Said Paul anxiously,
Perfectly sure,
Dear heart.
Then I won't worry,
Said Paul with a long breath of relief,
Especially as I really think Mary Jo will listen to reason.
She's not a naturally unreasonable person,
But she's learned by experience it doesn't do to disobey Grandma's orders.
Grandma's an excellent woman,
But people must do as she tells them.
She was very much pleased with me this morning because I managed at last to eat my plate full of porridge.
It was a great effort,
But I succeeded.
Grandma says she thinks she'll make a man of me yet.
But teacher,
I want to ask you a very important question.
You will answer it truthfully,
Won't you?
I'll try,
Promised Anne.
Do you think I'm wrong in my upper story?
Asked Paul,
As if his very existence depended on her reply.
Goodness no,
Paul,
Exclaimed Anne in amazement.
Certainly you're not.
What put such an idea into your head?
Mary Jo.
But she didn't know I heard her.
Mrs.
Peter Sloan's hired girl,
Veronica,
Came to see Mary Jo last evening and I heard them talking in the kitchen as I was going through the hall.
I heard Mary Jo say,
That Paul is this queer little boy.
He talks that queer.
I think there's something wrong with his upper story.
I couldn't sleep last night for ever so long thinking of it,
Said Paul,
And wondering if Mary Jo was right.
I couldn't bear to ask Grandma about it somehow,
But I made up my mind I'd ask you.
I'm so glad you think I'm right in my upper story.
Of course you are,
Said Anne.
Mary Jo is a silly ignorant girl and you are never to worry about anything she says.
Anne secretly was a discreet hint as to the advisability of restraining Mary Jo's tongue.
Well,
That's a weight off my mind,
Said Paul.
I'm perfectly happy now,
Teacher,
Thanks to you.
It wouldn't be nice to have something wrong in your upper story,
Would it?
I suppose the reason Mary Jo imagines I have is because I tell her what I think about things sometimes.
It is rather a dangerous practice,
Admitted Anne,
Out of the depths of her own experience.
Well,
By and by I'll tell you the thoughts I told Mary Jo and you can see for yourself if there's anything queer in them,
Said Paul,
But I'll wait till it begins to get dark.
That's the time I ache to tell people things when no one else is handy.
I'll just have to tell Mary Jo,
But after this I won't.
If it makes her imagine I'm wrong in my upper story,
I'll just ache and bear it.
And if the ache gets too bad,
You can come up to Green Gables and tell me your thoughts,
Suggested Anne,
With all the gravity that endeared her to children who so dearly love to be taken seriously.
Yes,
I will,
But I hope Davey won't be there when I go in because he makes faces at me.
I don't mind very much because he's such a little boy and I'm quite a big one,
But still it's not pleasant to have faces made at you.
And Davey makes such terrible ones.
Sometimes I'm frightened to never get his face straightened out again.
He makes them at me in church when I ought to be thinking of sacred things.
Dora likes me though,
And I like her,
But not so well as I did before she told Minnie Mae Barry she meant to marry me when I grew up.
I may marry somebody when I grow up,
But I'm far too young to be thinking of it yet.
Don't you think,
Teacher?
Rather young,
Agreed teacher.
Speaking of marrying,
Reminds me of another thing that's been troubling me of late,
Continued Paul.
Mrs.
Linde was down here one day last week having tea with Grandma,
And Grandma made me show her my little mother's picture that one father sent me for my birthday present.
I didn't exactly want to show it to Mrs.
Linde.
Mrs.
Linde is a good kind woman,
But she isn't the sort of person you want to show your mother's picture to.
But I obeyed Grandma.
Mrs.
Linde said she was very pretty,
But kind of actressy looking,
And must have been an awful lot younger than father.
Then she said,
Some of these days your pa will be marrying again likely.
How would you like to have a new ma,
Asked Paul.
Well,
The idea almost took my breath away,
Teacher,
But I wasn't going to let her see that.
I just looked her straight in the face and said,
Mrs.
Linde,
Father made a pretty good job of picking my first mother,
And I could trust him to pick out another just as good a second time.
I can trust him,
Teacher,
But still I hope if he ever does give me a new mother,
He'll ask my opinion about her before it's too late.
There's Mary Jo coming to call us to tea.
I'll go and consult with her about the shortbread.
As a result of the consultation,
Mary Jo cut the shortbread and added a dish of preserves to the bill of fare,
And poured the tea,
And she and Paul had a very merry meal in the old dim sitting room,
Whose windows were open to the gulf breezes,
And they talked so much nonsense that Mary Jo was quite scandalised,
And told Veronica the next evening that school miss was as queer as Paul.
After tea,
Paul took Anne to his room to show her his mother's picture,
Which had been the mysterious birthday present kept by Mrs.
Irving in the bookcase.
Paul's little low-ceilinged room was a soft whirl of ruddy light from the sun that was setting over the sea,
And swinging shadows from the fir trees that grew close to the square deep-set window.
From out this soft glow and glamour shone a sweet girlish face with tender mother eyes that was hanging on the wall at the foot of the bed.
That's my little mother,
Said Paul with loving pride.
I got grandma to hang it there,
Or I'd see it as soon as I opened my eyes.
I never mind not having the light when I go to bed,
Because it seems as if my little mother were right here with me.
Your mother was very lovely,
Paul,
Said Anne,
And you look a little like her,
But her eyes and hair are darker than yours.
Mine is the same colour as father's,
Said Paul,
Flying about the room to heap all available cushions on the window seat,
But father's hair is grey.
He's a lot of it,
But it's grey.
You see,
Father's nearly 50.
That's a ripe old age,
Isn't it?
He's only on the outside he's old.
Inside he's just as young as anybody.
When Anne reached home that night,
She found a very different type of boyhood waiting to be put to bed.
Davy was sulky,
And when she'd undressed him,
He bounced into bed and buried his face in the pillow.
Davy,
Have you forgotten to say your prayers?
Said Anne rebukingly.
No,
I didn't forget,
Said Davy defiantly,
But I ain't gonna say my prayers anymore.
I'm going to give up trying to be good,
Because no matter how good I am,
You'd like Paul Irving better,
So I might as well be bad and have the fun of it.
I don't like Paul Irving better,
Said Anne seriously.
I like him just as well,
Only in a different way.
But I want you to like me the same way,
Pouted Davy.
You can't like different people the same way.
You don't like Dora and me the same way,
Do you?
Davy sat up and reflected.
No,
He admitted at last.
I like Dora better because she's my sister,
But I like you better because you're you.
And I like Paul because he's Paul,
And Davy because he's Davy,
Said Anne gaily.
Well,
I kind of wish I'd said my prayers then,
Said Davy,
Convinced by this logic,
But it's too much bother getting out now to say them.
I'll say them twice over in the morning,
Anne.
Will that do as well?
No,
Anne was positive it would not do as well,
So Davy scrambled out and knelt down at her knee.
When he had finished his devotions,
He leaned back on his little bare brown heels and looked up at her.
Anne,
I'm gooder than I used to be.
Yes,
Indeed you are,
Davy,
Said Anne,
Who never hesitated to give credit where credit was due.
I know I'm gooder,
Said Davy confidently,
And I'll tell you how I know it.
Today Marilla gave me two pieces of bread and jam,
One for me and one for Dora.
One was a good deal bigger than the other,
And Marilla didn't say which was mine,
But I gave the biggest piece to Dora.
That was good of me,
Wasn't it?
Very good and very manly,
Davy,
Said Anne.
Of course,
Admitted Davy.
Dora wasn't very hungry and she only ate half a slice,
Then she gave the rest to me,
But I didn't know she was gonna do that when I gave it to her,
So I was good,
Anne.
In the twilight,
Anne sauntered down to the Dryad's Bubble and saw Gilbert Blythe coming down through the dusty,
Haunted wood.
She had a sudden realisation that Gilbert was a schoolboy no longer,
And how manly he looked,
The tall,
Frank-faced fellow with the clear,
Straightforward eyes and the broad shoulders.
Anne thought Gilbert was a very handsome lad,
Even though he didn't look at all like her ideal man.
She and Diana had long ago decided what kind of man they admired,
And their tastes seemed exactly similar.
He must be very tall and distinguished-looking,
With melancholy,
Inscrutable eyes and a melting,
Sympathetic voice.
There was nothing either melancholy or inscrutable in Gilbert's physiognomy,
But of course that didn't matter in friendship.
Gilbert stretched himself out on the ferns beside the bubble and looked approvingly at Anne.
If Gilbert had been asked to describe his ideal woman,
The description would have answered point for point to Anne,
Even to those seven tiny freckles whose obnoxious presence still continued to vex her soul.
Gilbert was as yet little more than a boy,
But a boy has his dreams as have others,
And in Gilbert's future there was always a girl with big,
Limpid,
Grey eyes and a face as fine and delicate as a flower.
He had made up his mind also that his future must be worthy of its goddess.
Even in quiet Avonlea,
There were temptations to be met and faced.
White Sand's youth were rather a farcet,
And Gilbert was popular wherever he went,
But he meant to keep himself worthy of Anne's friendship,
And perhaps some distant day her love.
And he watched over word and thought and deed as jealously as if her clear eyes were to pass in judgment on it.
She held over him the unconscious influence that every girl whose ideals are high and pure wields over her friends,
An influence which would endure as long as she was faithful to those ideals,
And which she would certainly lose if she were ever forced to them.
In Gilbert's eyes,
Anne's greatest charm was the fact she never stooped to the petty practices of so many of the Avonlea girls.
The small jealousies,
The little deceits and rivalries,
The palpable bids for favor.
Anne held herself apart from all this,
Not consciously or of design,
But simply because anything of the sort was utterly foreign to her transparent,
Impulsive nature,
Crystal clear in its motives and aspirations.
But Gilbert did not attempt to put his thoughts into words,
For he had already too good reason to know Anne would mercilessly and frostily nip all attempts at sentiment in the bud,
Or laugh at him,
Which was ten times worse.
You look like a real dryad under that birch tree,
He said teasingly.
I love birch trees,
Said Anne,
Laying her cheek against the creamy satin of the slim bowl,
With one of the pretty caressing gestures that came so naturally to her.
Then you'll be glad to hear Mr.
Major Spencer's decided to set out a row of white birches all along the road front of his farm by way of encouraging the Avis,
Said Gilbert.
He was talking to me about it today.
Major Spencer is the most progressive and public spirited man in Avonlea,
And Mr.
William Bell is going to set out a spruce hedge along his road front and up his lane.
Our society is getting on splendidly,
Anne.
It's past the experimental stage and is an accepted fact.
The older folks are beginning to take an interest in it,
And the White Sands people are talking of starting one too.
Even Alicia Wright's come around to that day the Americans from the hotel had the picnic at the shore.
They praised our floatsides so highly,
And said they were so much prettier than any other part of the island.
And when in due time the other farmers follow Mr.
Spencer's good example and plant ornamental trees and hedges along their road fronts,
Avonlea will be the prettiest settlement in the province.
The aides are talking of taking up the graveyard,
Said Anne.
I hope they will,
Because there'll have to be a subscription for that,
And it'll be no use for the society to try it out after the Hall affair,
But the aides would never have stirred in the matter if the society hadn't put it into their thoughts unofficially.
Those trees we planted on the church grounds are flourishing,
And the trustees have promised me they'll fence in the school grounds next year.
If they do,
I'll have an arbor day,
And every scholar shall plant a tree,
And we'll have a garden in the corner by their own.
We've succeeded in almost all our plans so far,
Except in getting the old boulter house removed,
Said Gilbert,
And I've given that up in despair.
Levi won't have it taken down,
Just to fix us.
There's a contrary streak in all the boulters,
And it's strongly developed in him.
Julia Bell wants to send another committee to him,
But I think the better way will just be to leave him severely alone,
Said Anne sagely.
And trust to Providence,
As Mrs Lynn said,
Smiled Gilbert.
Certainly no more committees.
They only aggravate him.
Julia Bell says you can do anything if you only have a committee to attempt it.
Next spring,
Anne,
We must start an agitation for nice lawns and ground.
We'll sow good seed bedtimes this winter.
I'm going to prepare a paper on lawns and lawn making soon.
Well,
I suppose our vacation's almost over.
School opens Monday,
As Ruby Gillies got the Carmody school.
Yes,
I'm going to go to school.
Ruby Gillies got the Carmody school?
Yes,
Priscilla wrote she'd taken her own home school,
So the Carmody trustees gave it to Ruby.
I'm sorry Priscilla's not coming back,
But since she can't,
I'm glad Ruby got the school.
She'll be home for Saturdays,
And it'll seem like old times to have her and Jane and Diana and myself all together again.
Marilla,
Just home from Mrs Lynn's,
Was sitting on the black porch step when Anne returned to the house.
Rachel and I have decided to have our cruise to town tomorrow,
She said.
Mr Lynn is feeling better this week,
And Rachel wants to go before he has another sick spell.
I intend to get up early,
Extra early tomorrow morning,
Extra early tomorrow morning,
For I've ever so much to do,
Said Anne virtuously.
For one thing,
I'm going to shift the feathers from my old bed tick to the new one.
I ought to have done it a long time ago,
But I just keep putting it off.
It's such a detestable task.
It's a very bad habit to put off a disagreeable thing,
And I never mean to again,
Or else I can't comfortably tell my pupils not to do it.
That would be inconsistent.
Then I want to make a cape for Mr Harrison,
And finish my paper on gardens for the Avis,
And write Stella,
And wash and stuff my muslin dress,
And make Dora's new apron.
You won't get half that done,
Said Marilla pessimistically.
I never yet planned to do a lot of things,
But something happened to prevent me.
