Anne Of Green Gables 13 Read By S D Hudson

When Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert adopt an orphan from Nova Scotia, they assume the little boy that they receive into their home will be better than any hired help, and a good hand on the farm. Little do they realize, they are in for a greater surprise than any they have ever experienced in the quiet provincial town of Avonlea.

Transcript

This is S.

D.

Hudson Magic.

I'm delighted to be able to read for you.

Anne of Green Gables.

This I consider to be my favorite story of all time.

And even though I am English and not Canadian,

I hope I will do this story justice.

Chapter 13.

The Delights of Anticipation It's time Anne was in to do her sewing,

Said Marilla,

Glancing at the clock,

And then out into the yellow August afternoon,

Where everything drowsed in the heat.

She stayed playing with Diana more than half an hour more than I gave her leave to,

And now she's perched out there on the woodpile,

Talking to Matthew nineteen to the dozen,

When she knows perfectly well she ought to be at her work.

And of course he's listening to her like a perfect ninny.

I never saw such an infatuated man.

The more she talks and the odder the thing she says,

The more he's delighted evidently.

Anne Shirley,

You come right in here this minute,

Do you hear me?

A series of staccato steps on the west window brought Anne flying in.

From the yard,

Eyes shining,

Cheeks faintly flushed with pink unbraided hair streaming behind her in a torrent of brightness.

Oh Marilla,

She exclaimed breathlessly,

There's going to be a Sunday school picnic next week in Mr Harman Andrews' field,

Right near the Lake of Shining Waters,

And Mrs Superintendent Bell and Mrs Rachel Lind are going to make ice cream.

Think of it Marilla,

Ice cream.

And oh Marilla,

Can I go to it?

Just look at the clock if you please,

Anne.

What time did I tell you to come in?

Two o'clock?

But isn't it splendid about the picnic,

Marilla?

Please can I go?

Oh,

I've never been to a picnic.

I've dreamed of picnics,

But I've never.

.

.

Yes,

I told you to come in at two o'clock,

And it's quarter to three.

I'd like to know why you didn't obey me,

Anne.

Why,

I meant to,

Marilla,

As much as could be,

But you have no idea how fascinating Idlewide is.

And then of course I had to tell Matthew about the picnic.

Matthew is such a sympathetic listener.

Please can I go?

You'll have to learn to resist the fascination of idle,

Whatever you call it.

When I tell you to come in at a certain time,

I mean that time,

And not half an hour later.

And you needn't stop to discourse with sympathetic listeners on your way,

Either.

As for the picnic,

Of course you can go.

You're a Sunday school scholar,

And it's not likely I'd refuse to let you go when all the other little girls are going.

But,

Faltered Anne,

Diana says that everybody must take a basket of things to eat.

I can't cook,

As you know,

Marilla,

And I don't mind going to a picnic without puffed sleeves so much,

But I'd feel terribly humiliated if I have to go without a basket.

It's been preying on my mind ever since Diana told me.

Well,

It needn't prey any longer.

I'll bake you a basket.

Oh,

You dear,

Good Marilla.

You're so kind to me.

I am so much obliged to you.

Getting through with her owes,

Anne cast herself into Marilla's arms and rapturously kissed her sallow cheek.

It was the first time in her whole life that childish lips had voluntarily touched Marilla's face.

Again,

That sudden sensation of startling sweetness thrilled her.

She was secretly vastly pleased at Anne's impulsive caress,

Which was probably the reason why she said,

Brusquely,

There,

There,

Never mind your kissing nonsense.

I'd sooner see you doing strictly as you're told.

As for cooking,

I mean to begin giving you lessons at that some of these days.

But you're so feather-brained,

Anne,

I've been waiting to see if you'd sober down a little and learn to be steady before I begin.

You've got to keep your wits about you in cooking and not stop in the middle of things to let your thoughts rove all over creation.

Now get out your patchwork and have your square done before tea time.

I do not like patchwork,

Said Anne dolefully,

Hunting out her work basket and sitting down before a little heap of red and white diamonds with a sigh.

I think some kinds of sewing would be nice,

But there's no scope for imagination in patchwork.

It's just one little seam after another,

And you never seem to be getting anywhere.

But of course I'd rather be Anne of Green Gables sewing patchwork than Anne of any other place with nothing to do but play.

I wish time went as quickly as sewing patches,

As it does when I'm playing with Diana.

We do have such elegant times,

Marilla.

I have to furnish most of the imagination,

But I'm well able to do that.

Diana is simply perfect in every other way.

You know that little piece of land across the brook that runs up between our farm and Mr Barry's?

It belongs to Mr William Bell,

And right in the corner there's a little ring of white birch trees.

The most romantic spot,

Marilla.

Diana and I have our playhouse there.

We call it Idlewild.

Isn't that a poetical name?

I assure you it took me some time to think it out.

I stayed awake nearly a whole night before I invented it.

Then,

Just as I was dropping off to sleep,

It came like an inspiration.

Diana was enraptured when she heard it.

We've just got our house fixed up elegantly.

You must come and see it,

Marilla,

Won't you?

We have great big stones all covered with moss for seats,

And boards from tree to tree for shelves.

And we have all our dishes on them.

Of course they're all broken,

But it's the easiest thing in the world to imagine they're whole.

There's a piece of a plate with a spray of red and yellow ivy on it that's especially beautiful.

We keep it in the parlour and we have the fairy glass there too.

The fairy glass is as lovely as a dream.

Diana found it out in the woods behind their chicken house.

It's full of rainbows,

Just little young rainbows that haven't really grown very big yet.

And Diana's mother told her it was broken off by a hanging lamp they once had.

But it's nice to imagine the fairies lost it one night when they had a ball.

So we call it the fairy glass.

Matthew's going to make us a table.

Oh,

We've named that little round pool over in Mr Barry's field,

Willn't we?

I got that name after the book Diana lent me.

That was a thrilling book,

Marilla.

The heroine had five lovers.

I'd be satisfied with just one,

Wouldn't you?

She was very handsome,

She went through great tribulations.

She could faint as easy as anything.

I'd love to be able to faint,

Wouldn't you,

Marilla?

It's so romantic.

But I'm really very healthy for all I'm so thin.

I believe I'm getting fatter though,

Don't you think I am?

I look at my elbows every morning when I get up to see if any dimples are coming.

Diana is having a new dress made with elbow sleeves.

She's going to wear it to the picnic.

Oh,

I do hope it will be fine next Wednesday.

I don't feel like I could endure the disappointment if anything happened to prevent me from getting to the picnic.

I suppose I'd live through it,

But I'm certain it would be a lifelong sorrow.

It wouldn't matter if I got to a hundred picnics in after years.

They wouldn't make up for missing this one.

They're going to have boats.

On the Lake of Shining Waters and ice cream,

As I told you.

I've never tasted ice cream.

Diana tried to explain what it was like,

But I guess ice cream is one of those things that are beyond imagination.

Anne,

You have talked even on for ten minutes by the clock,

Said Marilla.

Now just for curiosity's sake,

See if you can hold your tongue for the same length of time.

Anne held her tongue.

But for the rest of the week,

She talked picnic and thought picnic and dreamed picnic.

On Saturday,

It rained and she worked herself up into such a frantic state,

Lest it should keep on raining until an over Wednesday,

That Marilla made her sew an extra patchwork square by way of steadying her nerves.

On Sunday,

Anne confided to me,

On Sunday,

Anne confided to Marilla on the way home from church,

That she grew actually cold all over with excitement when the minister announced the picnic from the pulpit.

Such a thrill as went up and down my back,

Marilla.

I don't think I've ever really believed until then there was honestly going to be a picnic.

I couldn't help feeling I'd only imagine it.

But when a minister says a thing in the pulpit,

You just have to believe it.

You set your heart too much on things,

Anne,

Said Marilla with a sigh.

I'm afraid there'll be a great many disappointments in store for you through life.

Oh Marilla,

Looking forward to things is half the pleasure of them,

Exclaimed Anne.

You may get the things themselves,

But nothing can prevent you from having the fun of looking forward to them.

Mrs Lynn says,

Blessed are they who expect nothing,

For they shall not be disappointed.

But I think it would be worse to expect nothing than to be disappointed.

Marilla wore her amethyst brooch to church that day as usual.

Marilla always wore her amethyst brooch to church.

She would have thought it rather sacrilegious to leave it off,

As bad as forgetting her Bible or her collection dying.

That amethyst brooch was Marilla's most treasured possession.

A seafaring uncle had given it to her mother,

Who in turn had bequeathed it to Marilla.

It was an old-fashioned oval,

Containing a braid of her mother's hair,

Surrounded by a border of very fine amethysts.

Marilla knew too little about precious stones to realise how fine the amethysts actually were,

But she thought them very beautiful and was always pleasantly conscious of their violet shimmer at her throat,

Above her good brown satin dress,

Even though she could not see it.

Anne had been smitten with delighted admiration when she first saw that brooch.

Oh Marilla,

It's a perfectly elegant brooch.

I don't know how you can pay attention to the sermon or the prayers when you have it on.

I couldn't,

I know.

I think amethysts are just sweet.

They are what I used to think diamonds were like.

Long ago,

Before I'd ever seen a diamond,

I read about them and I tried to imagine what they would be like.

I thought they would be lovely,

Glimmering purple stones.

When I saw a real diamond in a lady's ring one day,

I was so disappointed I cried.

Of course it was very lovely,

But it wasn't my idea of a diamond.

Will you let me hold the brooch for one minute,

Marilla?

Do you think amethysts can be the souls of good violets?

I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

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