Welcome to Drift Off Bedtime Stories.
I'm your host Joanne,
And I'm so glad you've joined me.
Tonight,
We begin a new journey together as we dive into the timeless classic Anne of Green Gables by Lucy Maud Montgomery.
Each Sunday,
I'll be narrating a few chapters,
Offering a gentle escape into the charming world of Anne Shirley and the beautiful landscapes of Prince Edward Island.
Now,
Before we begin,
Let's take a moment to relax and settle in.
Find a comfortable position,
Gently close your eyes,
And take a deep breath in,
And slowly exhale.
Feel your body beginning to unwind as you let go of any tension.
Imagine yourself in a peaceful,
Cozy space,
Ready to drift off into a world of imagination and rest.
And so,
My friend,
Let's step into the enchanting world now of Anne Shirley and Anne of Green Gables.
Chapter 11.
Anne's Impressions of Sunday School Well,
How do you like them?
Asked Marilla.
Anne was standing in the gable room,
Looking solemnly at three new dresses spread out on the bed.
One was a snuffy colored gingham that Marilla had bought from a peddler the previous summer because it looked durable.
Another was a black and white checkered sateen she had found on a bargain counter in the winter.
The third was a stiff print of an ugly blue shade she had purchased that week at a store in Carmody.
She had made them herself,
And they were all the same.
Plain skirts gathered tightly to plain waists,
With sleeves as plain as the waists in skirts,
And as tight as the sleeves could be.
I'll imagine that I'll like them,
Said Anne,
Soberly.
I don't want you to imagine it,
Said Marilla,
Offended.
Oh,
I can see you don't like the dresses.
What's wrong with them?
Aren't they neat and clean and new?
Yes.
Then why don't you like them?
They're.
.
.
They're not pretty,
Said Anne,
Reluctantly.
Pretty?
Marilla sniffed.
I didn't worry about getting pretty dresses for you.
I don't believe in pampering vanity,
Anne.
I'll tell you that right off.
These dresses are good,
Sensible and practical,
Without any frills or decorations,
And they're all you'll get this summer.
The brown gingham and the blue print will do for school when you start.
The sateen is for church and Sunday school.
I expect you to keep them neat and clean and not tear them.
I'd think you'd be grateful to get anything after those skimpy,
Wincy things you've been wearing.
Oh,
I am grateful,
Protested Anne,
But I'd be ever so much more grateful if.
.
.
If you'd made just one of them with puffed sleeves.
Puffed sleeves are so fashionable now.
It would give me such a thrill,
Marilla,
Just to wear a dress with puffed sleeves.
Well,
You'll have to do without your thrill.
I didn't have any extra material for puffed sleeves.
I think they look ridiculous anyway.
I prefer plain,
Sensible ones.
But I'd rather look ridiculous when everybody else does than plain and sensible all by myself,
Persisted Anne mournfully.
Trust you for that.
Well,
Hang those dresses carefully in your closet,
Then sit down and learn the Sunday school lesson.
I got a quarterly from Mr.
Bell for you,
And you'll go to Sunday school tomorrow,
Said Marilla,
Disappearing downstairs in high dudgeon.
Anne clasped her hands and looked at the dresses.
I did hope there would be a white one with puffed sleeves,
She whispered disconsolately.
I prayed for one,
But I didn't really expect it.
I didn't think God would bother about a little orphan girl's dress.
I knew I'd have to depend on Marilla for it.
Well,
Fortunately,
I can imagine that one of them is snow-white muslin with lovely lace frills and three puffed sleeves.
The next morning,
Warnings of a sick headache prevented Marilla from going to Sunday school with Anne.
You'll have to go down and call for Mrs.
Lind,
Anne,
She said.
She'll see that you get into the right class.
Now,
Mind you,
Behave yourself properly.
Stay for the sermon afterward and ask Mrs.
Lind to show you our pew.
Here is a scent for the collection.
Don't stare at people and don't fidget.
I expect you to tell me the text when you come home.
Anne started off,
Impeccable in the stiff black and white sateen,
Which,
While decent in length and not too skimpy,
Managed to highlight every corner and angle of her thin figure.
Her hat was a little flat,
Glossy,
New sailor,
Whose extreme plainness had likewise disappointed Anne,
Who had dreamed of ribbons and flowers.
However,
She remedied that before reaching the main road by adorning her hat with a heavy wreath of buttercups and wild roses.
Whatever others might have thought of the result,
It satisfied Anne,
And she tripped gaily down the road,
Holding her decorated head proudly.
When she reached Mrs.
Lind's house,
She found that the lady had already left,
Undaunted,
And proceeded to the church alone.
In the porch,
She found a crowd of little girls,
All more or less gaily dressed in whites,
Blues,
And pinks,
And all staring curiously at the stranger in their midst with her extraordinary head adornment.
Avonlea little girls had already heard strange stories about Anne.
Mrs.
Lind said she had an awful temper.
Jerry Bouaté,
The hired boy at Green Gables,
Said she talked to herself or to the trees and flowers like a crazy girl.
They looked at her and whispered to each other behind their quarterlies.
Nobody made any friendly advances.
Then or later,
When the opening exercises were over,
An Anne found herself in Miss Rogerson's class.
Miss Rogerson was a middle-aged lady who had taught a Sunday school class for twenty years.
Her method was to ask the printed questions from the quarterly,
And looked sternly over its edge at the particular little girl she thought should answer.
She looked often at Anne,
And Anne,
Thanks to Marilla's drilling,
Answered promptly,
But it's questionable if she understood much about either question or answer.
She did not think she liked Miss Rogerson,
And she felt very miserable.
Every other little girl in the class had puffed sleeves.
Anne felt that life was really not worth living without puffed sleeves.
Well,
How did you like Sunday school?
Marilla wanted to know when Anne came home.
Her wreath had faded,
So Anne had discarded it in the lane,
Sparing Marilla the sight.
I didn't like it a bit.
It was horrid.
Anne,
Surely,
Said Marilla rebukingly.
Anne sat down on the rocker with a long sigh,
Kissed one of Bonnie's leaves,
And waved her hand to a blooming fuchsia.
They might have been lonely while I was away,
She explained.
And now,
About the Sunday school.
I behaved well,
Just as you told me.
Mrs.
Lynde was gone,
But I went right on myself.
I went into the church with a lot of other little girls,
And I sat in the corner of a pew by the window during the opening exercises.
Mr.
Bell made an awfully long prayer.
I would have been dreadfully tired if I hadn't been sitting by that window,
But it looked right out on the Lake of Shining Waters,
So I just gazed at that and imagined all sorts of splendid things.
You shouldn't have done that.
You should have listened to Mr.
Bell.
But he wasn't talking to me,
Protested Anne.
He was talking to God,
And he didn't seem very interested in it either.
I think he thought God was too far away.
There was a long row of white birches hanging over the lake,
And the sunshine fell down through them,
Way,
Way down,
Deep into the water.
Oh,
Marilla,
It was like a beautiful dream.
It gave me a thrill,
And I just said,
Thank you for it,
God,
Two or three times.
Not out loud,
I hope,
Said Marilla anxiously.
Oh no,
Just under my breath.
Well,
Mr.
Bell did finish at last,
And they told me to go into the classroom with Miss Rogerson's class.
There were nine other girls in it.
They all had puffed sleeves.
I tried to imagine mine were puffed too,
But I couldn't.
Why couldn't I?
It was as easy as could be to imagine they were puffed when I was alone in the East Gable,
But it was awfully hard there among the others who had real puffs.
You shouldn't have been thinking about your sleeves in Sunday school.
You should have been paying attention to the lesson.
I hope you knew it.
Oh,
Yes,
And I answered a lot of questions.
Miss Rogerson asked ever so many.
I don't think it was fair for her to do all the asking.
There were lots I wanted to ask her,
But I didn't like to because I didn't think she was a kindred spirit.
Then all the other little girls recited a paraphrase.
She asked me if I knew any.
I told her I didn't,
But I could recite The Dog at His Master's Grave if she liked.
That's in the Third Royal Reader.
It isn't a religious piece of poetry,
But it's so sad and melancholy that it might as well be.
She said it wouldn't do and told me to learn the 19th paraphrase for next Sunday.
I read it over in church afterward,
And it's splendid.
There are two lines in particular that just thrill me.
Quick as the slaughtered squadrons fell in Midian's evil day.
I don't know what squadrons means,
Nor Midian either,
But it sounds so tragic.
I can hardly wait until next Sunday to recite it.
I'll practice it all week.
After Sunday school,
I asked Miss Rogerson,
Because Mrs.
Lind was too far away,
To show me her pew.
I sat as still as I could,
And the text was Revelation,
Third chapter,
Second and third verses.
It was a very long text.
If I were a minister,
I'd pick the short snappy ones.
The sermon was awfully long,
Too.
I suppose the minister had to match it to the text.
I didn't think he was interesting.
The trouble with him seems to be that he doesn't have enough imagination.
I didn't listen to him very much.
I just let my thoughts wander,
And I thought of the most surprising things.
Marilla felt hopelessly that all this should be sternly reproved,
But she was hindered by the undeniable fact that some of the things Anne had said,
Especially about the minister's sermons and Mr.
Bell's prayers,
Were what she herself had really thought deep down in her heart for years,
But had never expressed.
It felt to her as if those secret,
Unspoken critical thoughts had suddenly come to life and were now accusing her through this outspoken,
Neglected child.
Chapter Twelve A Solemn Vow and Promise It wasn't until the following Friday that Marilla heard about the flower-wreathed hat.
She came home from Mrs.
Lynde's and called Anne to account.
Anne,
Mrs.
Rachel says you went to church last Sunday with your hat decorated with roses and buttercups.
What on earth made you do that?
You must have looked ridiculous.
Oh,
I know pink and yellow aren't becoming to me,
Began Anne.
Becoming fiddlesticks?
It was putting flowers on your hat at all,
No matter what colour.
That was ridiculous.
You are the most aggravating child.
I don't see why it's any more ridiculous to wear flowers on your hat than on your dress,
Protested Anne.
Lots of little girls had bouquets pinned on their dresses.
What's the difference?
Marilla was not about to be swayed by this argument.
Don't talk back to me,
Anne.
It was very silly of you to do such a thing.
Never let me catch you doing that again.
Mrs.
Rachel says she thought she would sink through the floor when she saw you come in looking like that.
She couldn't get near enough to tell you to take them off until it was too late.
She says people talked about it terribly.
Of course they would think I had no better sense than to let you go decked out like that.
Oh,
I'm so sorry,
Said Anne,
Tears welling up in her eyes.
I never thought you'd mind.
The roses and buttercups were so sweet and pretty.
I thought they'd look lovely on my hat.
Lots of the little girls had artificial flowers on their hats.
I'm afraid I'm going to be a dreadful trial to you.
Maybe you'd better send me back to the asylum.
That would be terrible.
I don't think I could endure it.
I'm so thin as it is,
You see.
But that would be better than being a trial to you.
Nonsense,
Said Marilla,
Annoyed at herself for making the child cry.
I don't want to send you back to the asylum.
All I want is for you to behave like the other little girls and not make yourself ridiculous.
Don't cry anymore.
I've got some news for you.
Diana Barry came home this afternoon.
I'm going up to see if I can borrow a skirt pattern from Mrs.
Barry,
And if you like,
You can come with me and get acquainted with Diana.
Anne rose to her feet,
Clasped her hands,
And the tears still glistened on her cheeks.
The dish towel she had been hemming slipped unheated to the floor.
Oh,
Marilla,
I'm frightened.
Now that it has come,
I'm actually frightened.
What if she doesn't like me?
It would be the most tragic disappointment of my life.
Now,
Don't get all flustered.
And I do wish you wouldn't use such long words.
It sounds so funny in a little girl.
Diana will like you well enough.
It's her mother you have to worry about.
If she doesn't like you,
It won't matter how much Diana does.
If she has heard about your outburst to Mrs.
Linde and going to church with buttercups on your hat,
I don't know what she'll think of you.
You must be polite and well-behaved.
And don't make any startling speeches.
For heaven's sake,
If the child isn't actually trembling.
.
.
Anne was trembling.
Her face was pale and tense.
Oh,
Marilla,
You'd be excited,
Too,
If you were going to meet a little girl you hoped to be your best friend,
And whose mother might not like you,
She said as she hurried to get her hat.
They went over to Orchard Slope by the short cut across the brook and up the fur-covered hill.
Mrs.
Berry came to the kitchen door and answered to Marilla's knock.
She was a tall,
Black-eyed,
Black-haired woman with a very determined mouth.
She had a reputation for being very strict with her children.
How do you do,
Marilla?
She said cordially.
Come in.
And this is the little girl you've adopted,
I suppose?
Yes,
This is Anne Shirley,
Said Marilla.
Spelled with an E,
Gasped Anne,
Who,
Despite her nervousness,
Was determined there should be no misunderstanding on that important point.
Mrs.
Berry,
Not hearing nor comprehending,
Merely shook hands and said kindly,
How are you?
I am well in body,
Although considerably ruffled in spirit.
Thank you,
Ma'am,
Said Anne gravely.
Then a sigh to Marilla in an audible whisper.
There wasn't anything startling in that,
Was there,
Marilla?
Diana was sitting on the sofa,
Reading a book which she dropped when the callers entered.
She was a very pretty little girl,
With her mother's black eyes and hair,
Rosy cheeks,
And the merry expression which was her inheritance from her father.
This is my little girl Diana,
Said Mrs.
Berry.
Diana,
You might take Anne out into the garden and show her your flowers.
It will be better for you than straining your eyes over that book.
She reads entirely too much,
She added to Marilla,
As the girls went out.
And I can't prevent her,
For her father encourages her.
She's always poring over a book.
I'm glad she has the prospect of a playmate.
Perhaps it will get her outside more.
Outside in the garden,
Which was full of mellow sunset light streaming through the dark old firs to the west,
Stood Anne and Diana gazing bashfully at each other over a clump of gorgeous tiger lilies.
The Berry garden was a riot of flowers which would have delighted Anne's heart at any other time.
It was surrounded by huge old willows and tall firs,
Under which flourished flowers that loved the shade.
Prim,
Right-angled paths neatly bordered with clamshells intersected it like moist ribbons,
And in the beds between,
Old-fashioned flowers ran riot.
There were rosy,
Bleeding hearts,
And large,
Vibrant crimson peonies,
Thorny,
Sweet scotch roses,
Pink,
Blue,
And white columbines,
And lilac-tinted bouncing bets,
Clusters of southern wood,
Ribbon grass,
And mint,
Purple Adam and Eve,
Daffodils,
And masses of sweet clover,
White with delicate,
Fragrant feathery sprays,
Scarlet lightning that shot its fiery lances over neat white musk flowers,
A garden where sunshine lingered,
Bees hummed,
And winds tempted to stay purred and rustled.
Oh,
Diana,
Said Anne at last,
Clasping her hands and speaking almost in a whisper,
Oh,
Do you think you can like me a little,
Enough to be my best friend?
Diana laughed.
Diana always laughed before she spoke.
Why,
I guess so,
She said frankly.
I'm really glad you've come to live at Green Gables.
It will be fun to have someone to play with.
There isn't any other girl who lives near enough to play with,
And I've no sisters big enough.
Will you swear to be my friend forever and ever,
Demanded Anne eagerly?
Diana looked shocked.
Why,
It's dreadfully wicked to swear.
Oh,
No,
Not my kind of swearing.
There are two kinds,
You know.
I've never heard of but one kind,
Said Diana doubtfully.
There really is another.
Oh,
It isn't wicked at all.
It just means vowing and promising solemnly.
Well,
I don't mind doing that,
Agreed Diana,
Relieved.
How do you do it?
We must join hands like this,
Said Anne gravely.
It ought to be over running water.
We'll just imagine this path is running water.
I'll repeat the oath first.
I solemnly swear to be faithful to my best friend Diana Barry as long as the sun and moon shall endure.
Now you say it and put my name in it.
Diana repeated the oath with a laugh before and after.
Then she said,
You're a queer girl,
Anne.
I heard before that you were strange,
But I believe I'm going to like you a lot.
When Marilla and Anne went home,
Diana went with them as far as the log bridge.
The two little girls walked with their arms around each other.
At the brook,
They parted with many promises to spend the next afternoon together.
Well,
Did you find Diana a kindred spirit?
Asked Marilla as they walked up through the garden of Green Gables.
Oh,
Yes,
Sighed Anne,
Blissfully unaware of any sarcasm in Marilla's question.
Oh,
Marilla,
I'm the happiest girl on Prince Edward Island right now.
I assure you I'll say my prayers with real enthusiasm tonight.
Diana and I are going to build a playhouse in Mr.
William Bell's birch grove tomorrow.
Can I have those broken pieces of china that are out in the woodshed?
Diana's birthday is in February and mine's in March.
Don't you think that that is a very strange coincidence?
Diana is going to lend me a book to read.
She says it's perfectly splendid and tremendously exciting.
She's going to show me a place back in the woods where rice lilies grow.
Don't you think Diana has very soulful eyes?
I wish I had soulful eyes.
Diana's going to teach me to sing a song called Nelly and the Hazel Dell.
She's going to give me a picture to put up in my room.
It's a beautiful picture,
She says.
A lovely lady in a pale blue silk dress.
A sewing machine agent gave it to her.
I wish I had something to give Diana.
I'm an inch taller than Diana,
But she is ever so much fatter.
She says she'd like to be thin because it's so much more graceful,
But I'm afraid she only said it to make me feel better.
We're going to the shore someday to gather shells.
We have agreed to call the spring down by the log bridge the Dryad's Bubble.
Isn't that a perfectly elegant name?
I read a story once about a spring called that.
A dryad is a sort of grown-up fairy,
I think.
Well,
All I hope is you won't talk Diana to death,
Said Marilla.
But remember,
This and all your planning,
Anne,
You're not going to play all the time nor most of it.
You'll have your work to do,
And it'll have to be done first.
Anne's cup of happiness was full,
And Matthew made it overflow.
He had just gotten home from a trip to the store at Carmody,
And he sheepishly produced a small parcel from his pocket and handed it to Anne with an apologetic look at Marilla.
I heard you say you like chocolate sweets,
So I got you some,
He said.
Hmph,
Sniffed Marilla.
It'll ruin her teeth and stomach.
There,
There,
Child,
Don't look so dismal.
You can eat those,
Since Matthew has gone and gotten them.
He'd better have brought you peppermints.
They're healthier.
Don't make yourself sick eating all of them at once.
Oh,
No,
Indeed I won't,
Said Anne eagerly.
I'll just eat one tonight,
Marilla.
And I can give Diana half of them,
Can't I?
The other half will taste twice as sweet to me if I give some to her.
It's delightful to think I have something to give her.
I will say this for the child,
Said Marilla,
When Anne had gone to her room.
She isn't stingy.
I'm glad,
Because of all faults,
I detest stinginess in a child.
Dear me,
It's only been three weeks since she came,
And it seemed as if she'd been here always.
I can't imagine the place without her.
Now,
Don't be looking,
I told you so,
Matthew.
That's bad enough in a woman,
But it isn't to be injured in a man.
I'm perfectly willing to admit that I'm glad I agreed to keep the child,
And that I am getting fond of her.
But don't rub it in,
Matthew Cuthbert.
Sweet dreams,
My friend.
Sleep well.
