Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the twenty-third chapter of Anne's House of Dreams.

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Today we'll be continuing Anne's House of Dreams by Lucy Maud Montgomery.

Chapter 23 owen Ford comes one evening.

Miss Cornelia telephoned down to Anne.

The rider man has just arrived here.

I'm going to drive him down to.

Your place and you can show him.

The way over to Leslie's.

It's shorter than driving round by the.

Other road, and I'm in a mortal hurry.

The Reese baby's gone and fallen into a pail of hot water at the glen and got nearly scalded to death.

And they want me right off to put a new skin on the child, I presume mrs.

Reese is always so careless and then expects other people to mend her mistakes.

You won't mind, will you, deary?

His trunk can go down tomorrow.

Very well, said Anne.

What is he like, Miss Cornelia?

You'll see what he's like outside when I take him down.

As for what he's like inside, only the Lord who made him knows that.

I'm not going to say another word.

For every receiver in the Glenn is down.

Ms.

Cornelia evidently can't find much fault with Mr.

Ford's looks, or she would find it in spite of the receivers, said Anne.

I conclude, therefore, Susan, that Mr.

Ford is rather handsome than otherwise.

Well, Mrs.

Dr.

Dear, I do enjoy.

Seeing a well looking man, said Susan candidly, and I not better get up.

A snack for him.

There's a strawberry pie that would melt in your mouth.

No, Leslie is expecting him and has his supper ready.

Besides, I want that strawberry pie for my own.

Poor man.

He won't be home till late, so.

Leave the pie and a glass of.

Milk out for him, Susan.

That I will do, Mrs.

Doctor dear.

Susan is at the helm after all.

It is better to give pie to your own men than to strangers who may be only seeking to devour.

And the doctor himself is as well looking a man as you often come across.

When Owen Ford came and secretly admitted, as Miss Cornelia towed him in, that he was very well looking indeed.

He was tall and broad shouldered, with thick brown hair, finely cut nose and chin, large and brilliant, dark gray eyes.

And did you notice his ears and his teeth, Mrs.

Dr?

Dear?

Queried susan later on.

He has got the nicest shaped ears I ever saw on a man's head.

I am choice about ears.

When I was young, I was scared.

That I might have to marry a.

Man with ears like flaps.

But I need not have worried, for never a chance did I have with any kind of ears.

Anne had not noticed Owen Ford's ears, but she did see his teeth and his lips parted over them in a frank and friendly smile.

On smiling.

His face was rather sad and absent in expression, not unlike the melancholy, inscrutable hero of Anne's own early dreams.

But mirth and humor and charm lighted it up when he smiled.

Certainly on the outside, as Miss Cornelia said, owen Ford was a very presentable fellow.

You cannot realize how delighted I am to be here, Mrs.

Blythe, he said.

Looking around him with eager, interested eyes.

I have an odd feeling of coming home.

My mother was born and spent her childhood here, you know.

She used to talk a great deal to me of her old home.

I know the geography of it as well as the one I lived in.

And of course, she told me the story of the building of the house and of my grandfather's agonized watch for the Royal William, I thought.

That so old a house must have vanished years ago, or I should have come to see it before this.

Old houses don't vanish easily on this enchanted coast, smiled Anne.

This is a land where all things.

Always seem the same.

Nearly always, at least.

John Selwyn's house hasn't even been much changed.

And outside the rosebush, as your grandfather planted for his bride, are blooming this very minute.

Oh, the thought links me with them.

With your leave, I must explore the whole place soon.

Our latch string will always be out for you, promised Anne.

And do you know that the old sea captain who keeps the Forewinds light knew John Selwyn and his bride well in his boyhood?

He told me their story the night I came here.

The third bride of the old house.

Can it be possible?

This is a discovery.

I must hunt him up.

It won't be difficult.

We are all cronies of Captain Jim.

He will be as eager to see you as you could be to see him.

Your grandmother shines like a star in his memory.

But I think Mrs.

Moore is expecting you.

I'll show you our cross Lots Road and walked with him to the house.

Up the brook, over a field that was as white as snow with daisies.

A boatload of people were singing far across the harbor.

A sound drifted over the water like faint, unearthly music.

Wind blown across a starlet sea.

The bright light flashed and beaconed.

Owen Ford looked around him with satisfaction.

And so this is four winds, he said.

I wasn't prepared to find it quite so beautiful, in spite of all Mother's praises.

What colors, what scenery.

What charm.

I shall get as strong as a horse in no time.

And if inspiration comes from beauty, I should certainly be able to begin my great Canadian novel here.

You haven't begun it yet?

Asked Anne.

Lack a day.

No, I've never been able to get the right central idea for it.

It looks beyond me.

It allures and beckons and recedes.

I almost grasp it and it is gone.

Perhaps amid this peace and loveliness I shall be able to capture it.

Miss Bryant tells me that you write.

Oh, I do.

Little things for children.

I haven't done much since I was married.

And I have no designs on a great Canadian novel, laughed Anne.

That is quite beyond me.

Owen Ford laughed too.

I dare say it is beyond me as well.

All the same, I mean to have a try at it someday, if I can ever get time.

A newspaper man doesn't have much chance for that sort of thing.

I've done a good deal of short story writing for the magazines, but I've never had the leisure that seems to be necessary for the writing of a book with three months of liberty.

I ought to make a start, though if I could only get the necessary motif for it.

The soul of the book.

An idea whisked through Anne's brain with a suddenness that made her jump, but she did not utter it, for they had reached the Moor house.

As they entered the yard, Leslie came out on the veranda from the side door, peering through the gloom for some sign of her expected guest.

She stood just where the warm yellow light flooded her from the open door.

She wore a plain dress of cheap cream tinted cotton, voil with the usual girdle of crimson.

Leslie was never without her touch of crimson.

She had told Anne that she never felt satisfied without a gleam of red somewhere about her.

If it were only a flower, to Anne it always seemed to symbolize Leslie's glowing, pint up personality, denied all expression save in that flaming glint.

Leslie's dress was cut a little away at the neck and had short sleeves.

Her arms gleamed like ivory tinted marble.

Every exquisite curve of her form was outlined in soft darkness against the light.

Her hair shone in it like flame.

Beyond her was a purple sky flowering with stars over the harbor and heard her companion give a gasp.

Even in the dusk, she could see the amazement and admiration on his face.

Who is that beautiful creature?

He asked.

That is Mrs.

Moore, said Anne.

She's very lovely, isn't she?

I never saw anything like her, he answered, rather dazedly.

I wasn't prepared.

I didn't expect good heavens.

One doesn't expect a goddess for a landlady life.

She were clothed in a gown of sea purple, with a rope of amethysts in her hair.

She would be a veritable sea queen.

And she takes in borders.

Even goddesses must live, said Anne.

And Leslie isn't a goddess.

She's just a very beautiful woman, as human as the rest of us.

Did Miss Bryant tell you about Mr.

Moore?

Yes.

He's mentally deficient or something of the sort, isn't he?

But she said nothing about Mrs.

Moore.

And I suppose she'd be the usual hustling country housewife who takes in borders.

To earn an honest penny.

Well, that's just what Leslie is doing, said Anne Crisply.

And it isn't altogether pleasant for her, either.

I hope you won't mind, D***, if you do.

Please don't let Leslie see it.

It would hurt her horribly.

He's just a big baby and sometimes a rather annoying one.

Oh, I won't mind him.

I don't suppose I'll be much in the house anyhow, except for meals.

But what a shame it all is.

Her life must be a hard one.

It is, but she doesn't like to be pitied.

Leslie had gone back into the house and now met them at the front door.

She greeted Owen Ford with cold civility and told him in a business like tone that his room and his supper were ready for him.

D***, with a pleased grin, shambled upstairs with the Valice, and Owen Ford was installed as an inmate of the old house among the Willows.

Thank you for joining Bite at a Time 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 Anne's House of Dreams.

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