Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the second chapter of Rainbow Valley.

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Be continuing rainbow Valley by Lucy Maud Montgomery.

Chapter Two sheer Gossip where are the other children?

Asked Miss Cornelia when the first greetings cordial on her side.

Rapturous on Anne's and dignified on Susan's were over.

Shirley's in bed, and Jim and Walter and the twins are down in their beloved Rainbow Valley, said Anne.

They just came home this afternoon, you know, and they could hardly wait until supper was over before rushing down to the valley.

They love it above every spot on earth.

Even the maple grove doesn't rival it in their affections.

I'm afraid they love it, too well, said Susan.

Gloomily.

Little Jim said once he would rather go to Rainbow Valley than to heaven when he died, and that was not a proper remark, I suppose they had.

A great time in Avonlea, said Miss Cornelia.

Enormous.

Marilla does spoil them terribly.

Jim, in particular, can do no wrong in her eyes.

Miss Cuthbert must be an old lady.

Now, said Miss Cornelia, getting out her knitting so that she could hold her own with Susan.

Miss Cornelia held that the woman whose hands were employed always had the advantage over the woman whose hands were not.

Marla is 85, said Anne with a sigh.

Her hair is snow white, but strange to say, her eyesight is better than it was when she was 60.

Well, dearie, I'm real glad you're all back.

I've been dreadful lonesome, but we haven't been dole in the glen.

Believe me, there hasn't been such an exciting spring in my time.

As far as church matters go.

We've got settled with a minister at last, Anne dearie.

The Reverend John Knox Meredith.

Mrs.

Dr.

Dear, said Susan, resolved not to let Ms.

Cornelia tell all the news.

Is he nice?

Asked Anne.

Interestedly?

Ms.

Cornelia's sighed, and Susan groaned, yes, he's nice enough.

If that were all, said the former.

He is very nice and very learned and very spiritual, but, oh, Anne deary, he has no common sense.

How was it you called him, then?

Well, there's no doubt he is by far the best preacher we ever had.

In Glenn St.

Mary Church, said Miss Cornelia.

Veering, attacker two.

I suppose it is because he's so mooney and absent minded that he never got a town call.

His trial sermon was simply wonderful.

Believe me, everyone went mad about it.

And his looks.

He is very comely, Mrs.

Dr.

Dear.

And when all is said and done, I do like to see a well looking man in the pulpit broken.

Susan, thinking it was time she asserted herself again.

Besides, said Miss Cornelia, we were anxious.

To get settled, and Mr.

Meredith was the first candidate we were all agreed on.

Somebody had some objection to all the others.

There was some talk of calling Mr.

Fulsome.

He was a good preacher, too, but somehow people didn't care for his appearance.

He was too dark and sleek.

He looked exactly like a great black tom cat.

That he did, Mrs.

Dr.

Deer, said Susan, I never could abide such a man in the pulpit every Sunday.

Then Mr.

Rogers came, and he was like a chip in porridge.

Neither harm nor good, resumed Miss Cornelia.

But if he had preached like Peter and Paul, it would have profited him nothing, for that was the day old Caleb Ramsay sheep straight into church and gave a loud bag just as he announced his text.

Everybody laughed, and poor Rogers had no chance after that.

Some thought we ought to call Mr.

Stewart because he was so well educated.

He could read the New Testament in.

Five languages, but I do not think he was any shorter than other men.

Of getting to heaven because of that, interjected Susan.

Most of us didn't like his delivery.

Said Miss Cornelia, ignoring Susan.

He talked in grunt, so to speak, and Mr.

Arnett couldn't preach at all.

And he picked about the worst candidating text there is in the Bible.

Curse Moreaus.

Whenever he got stuck for an idea, he would bang the Bible and shout very bitterly, curse ye morose.

Poor Maraus got thoroughly cursed that day, whoever he was.

Mrs.

Dr.

Dear, said Susan.

The ministers whose candidating can't be too.

Careful what text he chooses, said Miss Cornelia solemnly.

I believe Mr.

Pearson would have got the call if he had picked a different text.

But when he announced, I will lift my eyes to the hills, he was done for.

Everyone grinned, for everyone knew that those two hill girls from the Harbor Head had been setting their caps for every single minister who came to the Glenn for the last 15 years.

And Mr.

Newman had too large a family.

He stayed with my brother in law.

James Clau, said Susan.

How many children have you got?

I asked him.

Nine boys and a sister for each of them, he said.

18, said I.

Dear me, what a family.

And then he laughed and laughed.

But I do not know why, Mrs.

Dr.

Dear, and I'm certain that 18.

Children would be too many for any mans.

He only had ten children, Susan, explained.

Miss Cornelia with contemptuous patience, and ten.

Good children would not be much worse for the mans and congregation than the four who are there now.

Though I wouldn't say, Anne deary, that they are so bad either.

I like them.

Everybody likes them.

It's impossible to help liking them.

They would be real nice little souls if there was anyone to look after their manners and teach them what is right and proper.

For instance, at school the teacher says they are model children, but at home they simply run wild.

What about Mrs.

Meredith?

Asked Anne.

There is no Mrs.

Meredith.

That's just the trouble.

Mr.

Meredith is a widower.

His wife died four years ago.

If we had known that, I don't suppose we would have called him, for a widower is even worse in a congregation than a single man.

But he was heard to speak of his children, and we all suppose there was a mother, too.

And when they came, there was nobody but old Aunt Martha, as they call her.

She's the cousin of Mr.

Meredith's mother, I believe, and he took her in to save her from the poor house.

She's 75 years old, half blind and very deaf and very cranky, and a very poor cook.

Mrs.

Dr.

Deere.

Low.

Worst possible manager for a mance, said Miss Cornelia bitterly.

Mr.

Meredith won't get any other housekeeper because he says it would hurt Aunt Martha's feelings.

And dearie, believe me, the state of that mance is something terrible.

Everything is thick with dust, and nothing is ever in its place.

And we had painted and papered it all so nice before they came.

There are four children, you say?

Asked Anne, beginning to mother them already in her heart.

Yes, they run up just like the.

Steps of a stair.

Gerald's the oldest.

He's twelve, and they call him Jerry.

He's a clever boy.

Faith is eleven.

She's a regular tomboy, but pretty as a picture.

I must say she looks like an angel, but she's a holy terror for mischief.

Mrs.

Dr.

Deere, said Susan solemnly.

I was at the mance one night last week, and Mrs.

James Millison was there, too.

She had brought them up a dozen eggs and a little pail of milk.

A very little pail, mrs.

Dr.

Deer.

Faith took them and whisked down the cellar with them.

Near the bottom of the stairs she caught her toe and fell the rest.

Of the way, milk and eggs and all.

You can imagine the result.

Mrs.

Dr.

Deer.

But that child came up laughing.

I don't know whether I'm myself or.

A custard pie, she said.

Mrs.

James Millison was very angry.

She said she would never take another thing to the mance if it was to be wasted and destroyed in that fashion.

Maria Millison never heard herself taking things.

To the mans, sniffed Miss Cornelia.

She just took them that night as an excuse for curiosity.

But poor Faith is always getting into scrapes.

She's so heedless and impulsive, just like me.

I'm going to like your faith, said Anne.

Decidedly.

She is full of spunk.

And I do like spunk, Mrs.

Dr.

Dear, admitted Susan.

There's something taking about her, conceded Miss Cornelia.

You never see her, but she's laughing.

And somehow it always makes you want to laugh too.

She can't even keep a straight face in church.

Una is ten.

She's a sweet little thing.

Not pretty, but sweet.

And Thomas Carlyle is nine.

They call him Carl.

Any of the regular mania for collecting toads and bugs and frogs and bringing them into the house.

I suppose he was responsible for the dead rat that was lying on a chair in the parlor the afternoon Mrs.

Grant called.

It gave her a turn, said Susan.

And I do not wonder for man's parlors or no places for dead rats.

To be sure, it may have been the cat who left it there.

He is as full of the old nick as can be stuffed Mrs.

Dr.

Deer.

A man's cat should at least look.

Respectable in my opinion, whatever he really is.

But I never saw such a rakish looking beast.

And he walks along the ridgepole of.

The MANTS almost every evening at sunset, Mrs.

Dr.

Dear, and waves his tail.

And that is not becoming.

The worst of it is they are.

Never decently dressed, sighed Miss Cornelia.

And since the snow went, they go to school barefooted.

Now you know, Anne Deery, that isn't the right thing for mance children, especially when the Methodist ministers.

Little girl always wears such nice buttoned boots.

And I do wish they wouldn't play in the old Methodist graveyard.

It's very tempting when it's right beside the mance, said Anne.

I've always thought graveyards must be delightful.

Places to play in.

Oh, no, you did not, Mrs.

Doctor Dear, said loyal Susan, determined to protect Anne from herself.

You have too much good sense and decorum.

Why did they ever build that mant.

Beside the graveyard in the first place?

Asked Anne.

Their lawn is so small there's no place for them to play except in the graveyard.

It was a mistake.

Admitted, Miss Cornelia.

But they got the lot cheap and.

No other man's children ever thought of playing there.

Mr.

Meredith shouldn't allow it, but he's always got his nose buried in a book.

When he's home.

He reads and reads or walks about in his study in a daydream.

So far he hasn't forgotten to be in church on Sundays.

But twice he's forgotten about the prayer meeting and one of the elders had to go over to the mans and remind him.

And he forgot about F**** Cooper's wedding.

They rang him up on the phone and then he rushed right over just as he was, carpet slippers and all.

One wouldn't mind if the Methodist didn't laugh so about it.

But there's one comfort.

They can't criticize his sermons.

He wakes up when he's in the pulpit, believe me.

And the Methodist minister can't preach at all, so they tell me.

I have never heard him.

Thank goodness Ms Cornelius scorn of men had abated somewhat since her marriage, but her scorn of Methodist remained untinged of charity.

Susan smiled slyly.

They do say, Mrs Marshall Elliot, that the Methodists and Presbyterians are talking of uniting?

She said.

Well, all I hope is that I'll be under the thought.

If that ever comes to pass, retorted Miss Cornelia, I shall never have truck or trade with Methodists, and Mr Meredith will find that he'd better steer clear of them, too.

He's entirely too sociable with them, believe me.

Why, he went to the Jacob Drew's silver wedding supper and got into a nice scrape as a result.

What was it?

Mrs Drew asked him to carve the roast goose for?

Jacob Drew never did or could carve.

Well, Mr Meredith tackled it, and in the process he knocked it clean off the platter into Mrs Reese's lap, who was sitting next to him, and he just said dreamily, Mrs Reese, will you kindly return me that goose?

Mrs Reese returned it as meek as Moses, but she must have been furious, for she had on her new silk dress.

The worst of it is she was a Methodist.

But I think that is better than if she was a Presbyterian, interjected Susan.

If she had been a Presbyterian, she would mostly likely have left the church, and we cannot afford to lose our members.

And Mrs Reese is not liked in.

Her own church because she gives herself such great heirs, so that the Methodists would be rather pleased that Mr Meredith spoiled her dress.

The point is, he made himself ridiculous.

And I for one, do not like to see my minister made ridiculous in.

The eyes of the Methodists, said Miss Cornelia stiffly.

If he had had a wife, it would not have happened.

I do not see if he had a dozen wives, how they could have.

Prevented Mrs Droop musing up her tough.

Old gander for the wedding feast, said Susan stubbornly.

They say that was her husband's doing, said Ms Cornelia.

Jacob Drew is a conceited, stingy, domineering creature.

And they do say he and his wife detest each other, which does not.

Seem to me the proper way for married folks to get along.

But then, of course, I've had no.

Experience along that line, said Susan, tossing her head.

And I am not one to blame everything on the men.

Mrs Drew is mean enough herself.

They say that the only thing she.

Was ever known to give away was a crock of butter made out of.

Cream a rat had fell into.

She contributed it to a church social.

Nobody found out about the rat until afterwards.

Fortunately, all the people the Methodists have.

Offended so far are Methodists, said Miss Cornelia.

That Jerry went to the Methodist prayer meeting one night about a fortnight ago and sat beside old William Marsh, who got up as usual and testified with fearful groans.

Do you feel any better now?

Whispered Jerry when William sat down.

Poor Jerry meant to be sympathetic, but Mr.

Marsh thought he was impertinent and is furious at him.

Of course, Jerry had no business to be in a Methodist prayer meeting at all.

But they go where they like.

I hope they will not offend Mrs.

Alec Davis of the harborhead, said Susan.

She is a very touchy woman, I understand, but she's very well off and pays the most of anyone to the salary.

I've heard that she says the Merediths.

Are the worst brought up children she ever saw.

Every word you say convinces me more and more that the Merediths belong to the race that knows Joseph, said Mistress Anne.

Decidedly.

When all is said and done, they.

Do, admitted Miss Cornelia.

And that balances everything.

Anyway, we've got them now and we must just do the best we can by them and stick up for them to the Methodists.

Well, I suppose I must be getting down.

Harbor Marshall will soon be home.

He went over harbor today and wanting his supper man like.

I'm sorry I haven't seen the other children.

And where's the doctor?

Up at the harbor head.

We've only been home three days and.

In that time he spent 3 hours.

In his own bed and eaten two meals in his own house.

Well, everybody who's been sick for the last six weeks has been waiting for him to come home and I don't blame them.

When that over harbor doctor married the undertaker's daughter at Lowbridge, people felt suspicious of him.

It didn't look well.

You and the doctor must come down soon and tell us all about your trip.

I suppose you've had a splendid time.

We had agreed Anne.

It was the fulfillment of years of dreams.

The old world is very lovely and very wonderful but we have come back very well satisfied with our own land.

Canada is the finest country in the world, Miss Cornelia.

Nobody ever doubted that, said Miss Cornelia complacently.

And the old Pei is the loveliest province in it.

And Four Winds is the loveliest spot in Pei, laughed Anne, looking adoringly out over the sunset splendor of glen and harbor and golf.

She waved her hand at it.

I saw nothing more beautiful than that in Europe, miss Cornelia.

Must you go?

The children will be sorry to have missed you.

They must come and see me soon.

Tell them the Donut jar is always full.

Oh, at supper they were planning a descent on you.

They'll go soon, but they must settle down to school again, and the twins.

Are going to take music lessons.

Not from the Methodist minister's wife, I.

Hope, said Miss Cornelia anxiously.

No, from Rosemary West.

I was up last evening to arrange it with her.

What a pretty girl she is.

Rosemary holds her own well.

She isn't as young as she once was.

I thought her very charming.

I've never had any real acquaintance with her.

You know, their house is so out of the way, and I've seldom ever seen her except at church.

People always have liked Rosemary West, though they don't understand her, said Miss Cornelia, quite unconscious of the high tribute she.

Was paying to Rosemary's charm.

Ellen has always kept her down, so to speak.

She has tyrannized over her, and yet she's always indulged her in a good many ways.

Rosemary was engaged once, you know, to young Martin Crawford.

His ship was wrecked on the Magdalenes, and all the crew were drowned.

Rosemary was just a child, only 17, but she was never the same afterwards.

She and Ellen have stayed very close at home since their mother's death.

They don't often get to their own church at Lowbridge.

And I understand Ellen doesn't approve of going too often to a Presbyterian church.

To the Methodist, she never goes.

I'll say that much for her.

That family of Wests have always been strong Episcopalians.

Rosemary and Ellen are pretty well off.

Rosemary doesn't really need to give music lessons.

She does it because she likes to.

They are distantly related to Leslie, you know.

Are the Fords coming to the harbor this summer?

No, they're going on a trip to Japan and will probably be away for a year.

Owen's new novel is to have a Japanese setting.

This will be the first summer that the dear old House of Dreams will be empty since we left it.

I should think Owen Ford might find enough to write about in Canada without dragging his wife and his innocent children off to a heathen country like Japan, grumbled Miss Cornelia.

The Life book was the best book he's ever written, and he got the material for that right here in four Wins.

Captain Jim gave him the most of.

That, you know, and he collected it all over the world.

But Owen's books are all delightful, I think.

Oh, they're well enough as far as they go.

I make it a point to read everyone he writes, though I've always held Ann deary that reading novels is a sinful waste of time.

I shall write and tell him my opinion of this Japanese business, believe me.

Does he want Kenneth and Purses to.

Be converted into pagans with which unanswerable conundrum Miss Cornelia took her departure.

Susan proceeded to put Rilla in bed, and Anne sat on the veranda steps under the early stars and dreamed her incorrigible dreams and learned all over again for the hundredth happy time what a moonrise splendor and sheen could be on forewin's harbor.

Thank you for joining Bite Editime books.

Today while we read a bite of one of your favorite classics.

Again, my name is Brie Carlyle and.

I hope you come back tomorrow for.

The next bite of Rainbow Valley.

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