Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the second chapter of Anne of Avonlea by Lucy Maud Montgomery.

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Take it chapter by chapter, one fight at a time, so many adventures and mountains we can't climb.

Welcome to Bite at a Time Books, where we read you your favorite classics one byte at a time.

My name is Brie Carlyle and I love to read and wanted to share my passion with listeners like you.

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Today we'll be continuing anne of Aven Lee by Lucy Maud Montgomery two selling in haste and repenting at leisure, anne drove over to Carmidiana shopping expedition the next afternoon and took Diana Barry with her.

Diana was, of course, a pledged member of the Improvement society, and the two girls talked about Little Elf all the way to Carmody and back.

The very first thing we ought to do when we get started is to have that hall painted, said Diana as they drove past.

The Avonlea Hall.

A rather shabby building sat down in a wooded hollow with spruce trees hooding it about on all sides.

It's a disgraceful looking place, and we must attend to it even before we try to get Mr.

Levi Bolter to pull his house down.

Father says we'll never succeed in doing that.

Levi Bolter is too mean to spend the time it would take.

Perhaps he'll let the boys take it down if they promise to haul the boards and split them up for him.

For kindling wood, said Anne.

Hopefully we must do our best and be content to go slowly at first.

We can't expect to improve everything all at once.

We'll have to educate public sentiment first, of course.

Diana wasn't exactly sure what educating public sentiment meant, but it sounded fine, and she felt rather proud that she was going to belong to a society with such an aim in view.

I thought of something last night that we could do, Anne.

You know that three cornered piece of ground where the roads from Carmody and Newbridge and White Sands meet?

It's all grown over with young spruce.

But wouldn't it be nice to have them all cleared out and just leave the two or three birch trees that are on it?

Splendid, agreed Anne Gaily.

And have a rustic seat put under the birches.

And when spring comes, we'll have a flower bed made in the middle of it and plant geraniums.

Yes, only we'll have to devise some way of getting old Mrs.

Hiram Sloane to keep her cow off the road or she'll eat our geraniums up, laughed Diana.

I begin to see what you mean by educating public sentiment, Anne.

There's the old Walter house now.

Did you ever see such a rookery?

And perched right close to the road, too?

An old house with its windows gone always makes me think of something dead with its eyes picked out.

I think an old deserted house is such a sad sight, said Anne dreamily.

It always seems to me to be thinking about its past and mourning for its OldTime joys.

Marilla says that a large family was raised in that old house long ago and that it was a real pretty place with lovely garden and roses climbing all over it.

It was full of little children and laughter and songs.

And now it is empty and nothing ever wanders through it but the wind.

How lonely and sorrowful it must feel.

Perhaps they all come back on moonlit nights, the ghosts of the little children of long ago and the roses and the songs.

And for a little while the old house can dream.

It is young and joyous again.

Diana shook her head.

I never imagined things like that about places.

Now, Anne.

Don't you remember how cross Mother and Marilla were when we imagined ghosts into the haunted wood?

To this day I can't go through that bush comfortably after dark.

And if I began imagining such things about the old bolter house, I'd be frightened to pass it too.

Besides, those children aren't dead.

They're all grown up and doing well.

And one of them is a butcher.

And flowers and songs couldn't have ghosts anyhow.

Anne smothered a little sigh.

She loved Diana dearly, and they had always been good comrades.

But she had long ago learned that when she wandered into the realm of fancy, she must go alone.

The weight to it was by an enchanted path where not even her dearest might follow her.

A thunder shower came up while the girls were at Carmody.

It did not last long, however, and the drive home through lanes where the raindrops sparkled on the boughs in little leafy valleys where the drenched ferns gave out spicy odors, was delightful.

But just as they turned into the Cuthbert lane and saw something that spoiled the beauty of the landscape for her, before them on the right, extended Mr.

Harrison's broad gray green field of late oats, wet and luxuriant.

And there, standing squarely in the middle of it, up to her sleek sides in the lush growth and blinking at them calmly over the intervening tassels, was a Jersey cow.

Anne dropped the reins and stood up with a tightening of the lips.

That boded no good to the predatory quadripled.

Not a word, said she, but she climbed nimbly down over the wheels and whisked across the fence before Diana understood what had happened and come back.

Shrieked to the ladder as soon as she found her voice.

You'll ruin your dress and that wet grain ruin it.

She doesn't hear me.

Well, she'll never get that cow out by herself.

I must go and help her.

Of course, Anne was charging through the grain like a mad thing.

Diana hopped briskly down, tied the horse securely to a post, turned the skirt of her pretty gingham dress over her shoulders, mounted the fence, and started in pursuit of her frantic friend.

She could run faster than Anne, who was hampered by her clinging and drenched skirt, and soon overtook her behind them.

They left a trail that would break Mr.

Harrison's heart when he should see it.

And for mercy's sake, stop.

Panted poor Diana.

I'm right out of breath, and you are wet to the skin.

I must get that cow out before Mr.

Harrison sees her, gasped Anne.

I don't care if I'm drowned, if we can only do that.

But the Jersey cow appeared to see no good reason for being hustled out of her luscious browsing ground.

No sooner had the two breathless girls got near her than she turned and bolted squarely for the opposite corner of the field.

Head her off.

Screamed Anne.

Run, Diana, run.

Diana did run.

Anne tried to, and the wicked Jersey went around the field as if she were possessed.

Privately.

Diana thought she was.

It was fully ten minutes before they headed her off and drove her through the corner gap into the Cuthbert Lane.

There's no denying that Anne was in anything but an angelic temper at that precise moment, nor did it soothe her in the least to behold a buggy halted just outside the lane, wherein sat Mr.

Shearer of Carmody and his son, both of whom wore a broad smile.

I guess you'd better have sold me that cow when I wanted to buy her last week, Anne, chuckled mr.

Shearer, I'll sell her to you now, if you want her, said her flushed and disheveled owner.

You may have heard this very minute done, and I'll give you 20 for her as I offered before.

And Jim here can drive her right over to Carmody.

She'll go to town with the rest of the shipment this evening.

Mr.

Reed of Brighton wants a Jersey cow.

Five minutes later, Jim Shearer and the Jersey cow were marching up the road, and impulsive, Anne was driving along Green Gables Lane with her $20.

What will Marilla say?

Asked Diana.

Oh, she won't care.

Dolly was my own cow, and it isn't likely she'll bring more than $20 at the auction.

But, oh, dear, if Mr.

Harrison sees that grain, he will know she's been in again.

And after my giving him my word of honor that I'd never let it happen, well, it has taught me a lesson not to give my word of honor about cows.

A cow that could jump over or break through our milkpin fence couldn't be trusted anywhere.

Marla had gone down to Mrs.

Lens, and when she returned, knew all about Dolly's sale and transfer for Mrs.

Lynde.

Had seen most of the transaction from her window and guessed the rest.

I suppose it's just as well she's gone, though you do do things in a dreadful headlong fashion, Anne.

I don't see how she got out of the pen, though.

She must have broken some of the boards off.

I didn't think of looking, said Anne, but I'll go and see now.

Martin has never come back yet.

Perhaps more of his aunts have died.

I think it's something like Mr.

Peter Sloan and Octogenarians.

The other evening Mrs.

Sloan was reading a newspaper, and she said to Mr.

Sloan, I see here that another octogenarian has just died.

What is an octogenarian?

Peter And Mr.

Sloan said he didn't know, but that they must be very sickly creatures, for you never heard tell of them.

But they were dying.

That's the way with Martin's.

Aunts Martin's.

Just like all the rest of those French, said Marilla in disgust.

You can't depend on them for a day.

Marilla was looking over Anne's carmody purchases when she heard a shrill shriek in the barnyard.

A minute later, Anne dashed into the kitchen, wringing her hands, and shirley, what's the matter now?

Oh, Marilla, whatever shall I do?

This is terrible, and it's all my fault.

How will I ever learn to stop and reflect a little before doing reckless things?

Mrs.

Linda always told me I would do something dreadful someday, and now I've done it, and you are the most exasperating girl.

What is it you've done?

Sold Mr.

Harrison's Jersey cow, the one he bought from Mr.

Bell to Mr.

Shearer.

Dolly is out in the milking pin this very minute, and shirley, are you dreaming?

I only wish I were.

There's no dream about it, though.

It's very like a nightmare.

And Mr.

Harrison's cow was in Charlotte town by this time.

Oh, Marilla, I thought I'd finished getting into scrapes, and here I am in the very worst one I ever was in in my life.

What can I do?

Do?

There's nothing to do, child, except go and see Mr.

Harrison about it.

We can offer him our jersey in exchange.

If he doesn't want to take the money, she's just as good as his.

I'm sure he'll be awfully cross and disagreeable about it, though, moaned Anne.

I dare say he will.

He seems to be an irritable sort of man.

I'll go and explain to him if you like.

No, indeed, I'm not as mean as that, exclaimed Anne.

This is all my fault, and I'm certainly not going to let you take my punishment.

I'll go myself, and I'll go at once.

The sooner it's over, the better, for it will be terribly humiliating.

Poor Anne got her hat under $20 and was passing out when she happened to glance through the open pantry door.

On the table repose a nutcake which she had baked that morning, a particularly toothsome concoction iced with pink icing and adorned with walnuts.

Anne had intended it for Friday evening, when the youth of Avonlea were to meet at Green Gables to organize the Improvement society.

But what were they compared to the justly offended Mr.

Harrison?

Anne thought that cake ought to soften the heart of any man, especially one who had to do his own cooking, and she promptly popped it into a box.

She would take it to Mr.

Harrison as a peace offering.

That is, if he gives me a chance to say anything at all, she thought ruefully as she climbed the lane fence and started on a shortcut across the fields, golden in the light of the dreamy August evening.

I know now just how people feel who are being led to execution.

Thank you for joining Bite at a Time Books today while we read a bite of one of your favorite classics.

If you enjoy our show, be sure to follow us so you get all the new episodes.

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Again, my name is Brie Carlyle, and I hope you come back tomorrow for the next bite of Anne of Avonlea.