18 Anne Of Avonlea: Read By Stephanie Poppins

In this series, Anne discovers the delights and troubles of being a teacher, takes part in the raising of Davy and Dora, and organizes the A.V.I.S. (Avonlea Village Improvement Society) together with Gilbert, Diana, and Fred Wright, through their efforts to improve the town are not always successful.

In this episode, Anne has one of her famous accidents!

Transcript

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 18 An Adventure on the Torrey Road Anne,

Said Davy,

Sitting up in bed and propping his chin on his hands.

Anne,

Where is sleep?

People go to sleep every night and of course I know it's the place where I do all the things I dream,

But I want to know where it is and how I get there and back without knowing anything about it and in my nighty too.

Where is it?

Anne was kneeling at the West Gable window watching the sunset sky that was like a great flower with petals of crocus and a heart of fiery yellow.

She turned her head at Davy's question and answered dreamily.

Over the mountains of the moon,

Down the valley of the shadow.

Over the mountains of the moon,

Down the valley of the shadow.

Paul Irving would have known the meaning of this or made a meaning out of it for himself if he didn't,

But practical Davy who,

As Anne often despairingly remarked,

Hadn't a particle of imagination,

Was only puzzled and disgusted.

Anne,

I believe you're just talking nonsense.

Of course I was,

Dear boy.

Don't you know it's only very foolish folk who talk sense all the time.

I think you might give a sensible answer when I ask a sensible question,

Said Davy in an injured tone.

Oh,

You're too little to understand,

Said Anne,

But she felt rather ashamed of saying that or had she not,

In keen remembrance of many similar snubs administered in her own early years,

Solemnly vowed she would never tell any child it was too little to understand.

Yet here she was doing it.

So wide sometimes is the gulf between theory and practice.

Well,

I'm doing my best to grow,

Said Davy,

But it's a thing you can't hurry much.

If Marilla wasn't so stingy with her jam,

I believe I'd grow a lot faster.

Marilla is not stingy,

Davy,

Said Anne severely.

It is very ungrateful of you to say such a thing.

There is another word that means the same thing and sounds a lot better,

But I don't just remember it,

Said Davy,

Frowning intently.

I heard Marilla say she was it herself the other day.

If you mean economical,

It's a very different thing from being stingy,

Said Anne.

It is an excellent trait in a person if she's economical.

If Marilla had been stingy,

She wouldn't have taken you and Dora when your mother died.

Would you have liked to live with Mrs Wiggins?

You just bet I wouldn't,

Davy was emphatic on that point.

No,

I don't want to go now to Uncle Richard,

Neither.

I'd far rather live here,

Even if Marilla is that long-tailed word when it comes to jam,

Because you're here,

Anne.

Say,

Anne,

Won't you tell me a story before I go to sleep?

I don't want a fairy story.

They're all right for girls,

I suppose,

But I want something exciting.

Lots of killing and shooting in it,

And a house on fire,

And entrusting,

Things like that.

Fortunately for Anne,

Marilla called out at this moment from her room.

Anne?

Diana's signalling at a great rate.

You'd better see what she wants.

Anne ran to the east gable and saw flashes of light coming through the twilight from Diana's window in groups of five,

Which meant,

According to their old childish code,

Come over at once,

For I have something important to reveal.

Anne threw her white shawl over her head and hastened through the haunted wood and across Mr Bell's pasture corner to Orchard Slope.

I've got some good news for you,

Anne,

Said Diana.

Mother and I have just got home from Carmody,

And I saw Mary Centner from Spencer Vale in Mr Blair's stall.

She says the old cop girls on the Tory Road have a willow-hair platter,

And she thinks it's exactly like the one we had at the supper.

She said they'll likely sell it,

For Martha Copp has never been known to keep anything she could sell.

But if she won't,

There's a platter at Wellesley Caissons at Spencer Vale,

And she knows they'd sell it,

But she isn't sure it's just the same kind as Aunt Josephine's.

I'll go right over to Spencer Vale after it tomorrow,

Said Anne resolutely,

And you must come with me,

Diana.

It will be such a weight off my mind,

For I have to go to town day after tomorrow,

And how can I face your Aunt Josephine without a willow-hair platter?

It would be even worse than the time I had to confess about jumping on the spare room bed.

Both girls laughed after the old memory,

Concerning which,

If any of my readers are ignorant and curious,

I must refer them to Anne's earlier history.

The next afternoon,

The girls fared forth on their platter-hunting expedition.

It was ten miles to Spencer Vale,

And the day was not especially pleasant for travelling.

It was very warm and windless,

And the dust on the road was such as might have been expected after six weeks of dry weather.

I do wish it would rain soon,

Sighed Anne.

Everything is so parched up.

The poor fields just seem pitiful to me,

And the trees seem to be stretching out their hands,

Pleading for rain.

As for my garden,

It hurts me every time I go into it.

I suppose I shouldn't complain about a garden when the farmers' crops are suffering so.

Mr Harrison says his pastures are so scorched up that his poor cows can hardly get a bite to eat,

And he feels guilty of cruelty to animals every time he meets their eyes.

After a wearisome drive,

The girls reached Spencer Vale and turned down the Torrey Road,

A green,

Solitary highway where the strips of grass between the wheel tracks bore evidence to lack of travel.

Along most of its extent,

It was lined with thickset young spruces crowding down to the roadway,

With here and there a break where the backfield of a Spencer Vale farm came out to the fence,

Or an expanse of stumps was aflame with fireweed and goldenrod.

Why is it called the Torrey Road?

Asked Dan.

Mr Allen says it's on the principle of calling a place a grove because there's no trees in it,

Said Diana.

Nobody lives along the road except the cop girls and old Martin Bovee at the far end,

Who's a liberal.

The Torrey government ran the road through when they were in power just to show they were doing something.

Diana's father was a liberal,

For which reason she and Dan never discussed politics.

Green Gables folk had always been conservatives.

Finally,

The girls came to the old cop homestead,

A place of such exceeding external neatness that even Green Gables would have suffered by contrast.

The house was a very old-fashioned one,

Situated on a slope,

Which fact had necessitated the building of a stone basement under one end.

The house and outbuildings were all whitewashed to a condition of blinding perfection,

And not a weed was visible in the prim kitchen garden,

Surrounded by its white paling.

The shades are all down,

Said Diana ruefully.

I believe nobody's home.

This proved to be the case.

The girls looked at each other in perplexity.

I don't know what to do,

Said Anne.

If I was sure the platter was the right kind,

I would not mind waiting till they came home.

But if it isn't,

It may be too late to go to Wesley Keason's afterwards.

Diana looked at a certain little square window over the basement.

That's the pantry window,

I feel sure,

She said,

Because this house is just like Uncle Charles's at Newbridge,

And that's their pantry window.

The shade isn't down.

If we climbed up on the roof of that little house,

We could look into the pantry and might be able to see the platter.

Do you think it would do any harm?

No,

I don't think so,

Decided Anne,

After due reflection,

Since our motive is not idle curiosity.

This important point of ethics being settled,

Anne prepared to mount the aforesaid little house,

A construction of lathes with a peaked roof,

Which had in times past served as a habitation for ducks.

The Kop girls had given up keeping ducks,

Because they were such untidy birds,

And the house had not been in use for some years,

Save as an abode of correction for setting hens.

Although scrupulously whitewashed,

It had become somewhat shaky,

And Anne felt rather dubious as she scrambled up from the vantage point of a keg placed on a box.

I'm afraid it won't bear my weight,

She said,

As she gingerly stepped on the roof.

Lean on the windowsill,

Advised Diana,

And Anne accordingly leaned.

Much to her delight,

She saw as she peered through the pane,

A willow-ware platter,

Exactly such as she was in quest of on the shelf in front of the window.

But in her joy,

Anne forgot the precarious nature of her footing,

Incautiously ceased to lean on the windowsill,

Gave an impulsive little hop of pleasure,

And the next moment she had crashed through the roof up to her armpits,

And there she hung,

Quite unable to extricate herself.

Diana dashed into the duck house,

And seizing her unfortunate friend by the waist,

Tried to draw her down.

Ow,

Don't,

Shrieked poor Anne,

There are some long splinters sticking into me,

See if you can put something under my feet,

Then perhaps I can draw myself up.

Diana hastily dragged in the previously mentioned keg,

And Anne found it was just sufficiently high enough to furnish a secure resting place for her feet,

But she could not release herself.

Could I pull you out if I crawled up,

Suggested Diana.

Anne shook her head hopelessly.

No,

The splinters hurt too badly,

If you can find an axe you might chop me out though.

Oh dear,

I do really begin to believe I was born under an ill-omened star.

Diana searched faithfully,

But no axe was to be found.

I'll have to go for help,

She said,

Returning to the prisoner.

No indeed you won't,

Said Anne vehemently,

If you do the story of this will get out everywhere and I shall be ashamed to show my face.

We must wait until the cop girls come home and bind them to secrecy.

They'll know where the axe is and get me out.

I'm not uncomfortable as long as I keep perfectly still,

Not uncomfortable in body I mean.

I wonder what the cop girls value this house at.

She'll have to pay for the damage I've done,

But I wouldn't mind that if I were only sure they would understand my motive in peeping in their pantry window.

My sole comfort is the platter is just the kind I want and if Miss Cop will only sell it to me I shall be resigned to what has happened.

What if the cop girls don't come home until after night or till tomorrow,

Suggested Diana.

If they're not back by sunset you'll have to go for assistance I suppose,

Said Anne reluctantly,

But you mustn't go till you really have to.

Oh dear,

This is a dreadful predicament.

I wouldn't mind my misfortune so much if they were romantic,

As Mrs Morgan's heroines always are,

But they're always just simply ridiculous.

Fancy what the cop girls will think when they drive into their yard and see a girl's head and shoulders sticking out of the roof of one of their outhouses.

Listen,

Is that a wagon?

No,

Diana,

I believe it's thunder.

Thunder it was undoubtedly,

And Diana,

Having made a hasty pilgrimage around the house,

Would turn to announce that a very black cloud was rising rapidly in the northwest.

I believe we're going to have a heavy thundershower,

She exclaimed in dismay.

Oh Anne,

What will we do?

We must prepare for it,

Said Anne tranquilly.

A thunderstorm seemed a trifle in comparison with what had already happened.

You'd better drive the horse and buggy into that open shed.

Fortunately my parasol's in the buggy.

Here,

Take my hat with you.

Marilla told me I was a goose to put on my best hat to come out to the Torrey Road,

And she was right,

As she always is.

Diana untied the pony and drove into the shed,

Just as the first heavy drops of rain fell.

There she sat and watched the resulting downpour,

Which was so thick and heavy that she could hardly see Anne through it,

Holding the parasol bravely over her bare head.

There was not a great deal of thunder,

But for the best part of an hour the rain came merrily down.

Occasionally Anne slanted back her parasol and waved an encouraging hand to her friend,

But conversation at that distance was quite out of the question.

Finally the rain ceased,

The sun came out,

And Diana ventured across the puddles of the yard.

Did you get very wet?

She asked anxiously.

Oh no,

Returned Anne cheerfully,

My head and shoulders are quite dry,

My skirt's only a little damp where the rain beat through the legs.

Don't pity me,

Diana,

For though I haven't minded it at all.

I keep thinking how much good the rain will do and how glad my garden must be for it,

And imagining what the flowers and buds would think when the drops began to fall.

I imagined out a most interesting dialogue between the two of them,

Interesting dialogue between the asters and the sweet peas,

And the wild canaries in the lilac bush and the guardian spirit of the garden.

When I go home I mean to write it down.

I wish I had a pencil and paper to do it now,

Because I dare say I'll forget the best parts before I reach home.

Diana the faithful had a pencil and discovered a sheet of wrapping paper in the box of the buggy.

Anne folded up her dripping parasol,

Put on her hat,

Spread the wrapping paper on a shingle Diana handed up,

And wrote out her garden idyll under conditions that could hardly be considered as favourable to literature.

Nevertheless,

The result was quite pretty,

And Diana was enraptured when Anne read it to her.

Oh Anne,

It's sweet,

Just sweet.

Do send it to the Canadian woman.

Anne shook her head.

Oh no,

It wouldn't be suitable at all.

There's no plot in it,

You see,

It's just a string of fancies.

I like writing such things,

But of course nothing of the sort would ever do for publication.

Poor editors insist on plots,

So Priscilla says.

Oh,

There's Miss Sarah Copp now.

Please,

Diana,

Do go and explain.

Miss Sarah Copp was a small person,

Garbed in shabby black,

With a hat chosen less for vain adornment than for qualities that would wear well.

She looked as amazed as might be expected on seeing the curious tableau in her yard,

But when she heard Diana's explanation,

She was all sympathy.

She hurriedly unlocked the back door,

Produced the axe,

And with a few skilful blows set Anne free.

The latter,

Somewhat tight and stiff,

Ducked down into the interior of her prison,

And thankfully emerged into liberty once more.

Miss Copp,

She said earnestly,

I assure you I looked into your pantry window only to discover if you had a will-o'-wear platter.

I didn't see anything else.

I didn't look for anything else.

Bless you,

That's all right,

Said Miss Sarah amiably.

You needn't worry.

There's no harm done.

Thank goodness we Copps keep our pantry presentable at all times,

And don't care who sees into them.

As for that old duck house,

I'm glad it's smashed,

For maybe now Martha would agree to have it taken down.

She never would before,

For fear it might come in handy sometime,

And I've had to whitewash it every spring.

But you might as well argue with the posters with Martha.

She went to town today.

I drove her to the station.

And you want to buy my platter?

Well,

What will you give for it?

Twenty dollars,

Said Anne,

Who was never meant to match business wits with a Copp,

Or she would not have offered her price at the start.

Well,

I'll see,

Said Miss Sarah cautiously.

That platter is mine,

Fortunately,

Or I'd never dare to sell it when Martha wasn't here.

As it is,

I dare say she weighs a fuss.

Martha's the boss of the system,

And I'm the boss of the platter.

Martha's the boss of this establishment,

I can tell you.

I'm getting awful tired of living under another woman's thumb.

But come in,

Come in.

You must be real tired and hungry.

I'll do the best I can for you in the way of tea.

But I warn you not to expect anything but bread and butter and some cow cumbers.

Martha locked up all the cake and cheese and preserves before she went.

She always does,

Because she says I'm too extravagant with them if company comes.

The girls were hungry enough to do justice to any fare,

And they enjoyed Miss Sarah's excellent bread and butter and cow cumbers thoroughly.

When the meal was over,

Miss Sarah said,

I don't know as I mind selling the platter,

But it's worth $25.

It's a very old platter.

Diana gave Anne's foot a gentle kick under the table,

Meaning,

Don't agree.

She'll let it go for $20 if you hold out.

But Anne was not minded to take any chances in regard to that precious platter.

She promptly agreed to give $25,

And Miss Sarah looked as if she felt sorry she hadn't asked for $30.

Well,

I guess you may have it.

I want all the money I can scare up just now.

The fact is,

Miss Sarah threw up her head importantly with a proud flush on her thin cheeks.

I'm going to be married to Luther Wallace.

He wanted me 20 years ago.

I liked him real well,

But he was poor then,

And father packed him off.

I suppose I shouldn't have let him go so meek,

But I was timid and frightened of father.

Besides,

I didn't know men were so scarce.

When the girls were safely away,

Diana driving,

And Anne holding the coveted platter carefully on her lap,

The green,

Rain-freshened solitudes of the Tory road were enlivened by ripples of girlish laughter.

I'll amuse your Aunt Josephine with the strange,

Eventful history of this afternoon when I go to town tomorrow,

Said Anne.

We've had a rather trying time,

But it's over now.

I've got the platter,

And that rain has laid the dust beautifully,

So all's well that ends well.

We're not home yet,

Said Diana rather pessimistically,

And there's no telling what may happen before we are.

You're such a girl to have adventures,

Anne.

Having adventures comes natural to some people,

Said Anne serenely.

You either have a gift for them,

Or you don't.

Reviews

Oh my goodness the platter incident. Thank you for bringing the story to life

Oh anne— so good at making the best of a bad situation! Thanks for reading❤️❤️🙏🏼