Music Welcome to the newscast, the podcast is on to help you fall asleep. Find us at snoozecast.com and wherever you listen to podcasts, this episode is brought to you by a very fine evening. Tonight, we'll read the 31st chapter of Anne of Green Gables, the classic 1908 novel by Lucy Madmon Gummary. This chapter is titled, Where the Brook and River Meet. In the In the last episode, the Queen's class is organized, Anne's dream of becoming a teacher begins to take shape when Mistacy invites her to join a special class, preparing for entrance exams to Queen's Academy. Marilla, though secretly very fond of Anne, initially seems stern but ultimately supports her ambition. Anne is deeply grateful and vows to study hard, though she dreads being separated from Diana who is not joining the class. The Queen's class includes Anne, Gilbert, and several other students, and a friendly but fierce academic rivalry develops between Anne and Gilbert. Though Anne insists she no longer cares about him, she privately regrets having rebuffed his earlier attempt at friendship. As Winter turns to spring, studies lose their appeal, and the students welcome the cation, especially after Miss Stacy confirms she'll return next year. Meanwhile, even Mrs. Lind at Mitz Ann has turned out remarkably well, and Marilla quietly reflects on how deeply proud and attached she has become to the once unpredictable orphan girl. Let's get cozy. Close your eyes. your body into the softness of your bed. Now, take a few deep breaths. Chapter 31 with the Brook and River Meet Ann had her good summer and enjoyed it wholeheartedly. She and Diana fairly lived outdoors, reveling in all the delights that lovers lane, and the bubble, and Willomir, and Victoria Island afforded. Mervilla offered no objections to Anne's jib-seeing. The Spencer veiled doctor who had come the night many may had the crew met Anne at the house of a patient one afternoon early invocation. took her over sharply, screwed up his mouth, shook his head, and sent a message to Marilla Cuthbert by another person. It was, keep that red-headed girl of yours in the open air all summer, and don't let her read books until she gets more spring into her step. The message frightened Marilla wholesomely. She read Anne's death warrant by consumption in it unless it was scrupleously obeyed. As a result, Anne had the golden summer of her life as far as freedom and frolic went. She walked, rode, buried, and dreamed to her heart's content. And when September came, she was bright-eyed and alert, with a step that would have satisfied the Spencer Vale doctor and a heart full of ambition and zest once more. I feel just like studying with might and main, she declared, as she brought her books down from the attic.

Oh, you good old friends, I'm glad to see your honest faces once more. Yes, even you geometry, I've had a perfectly beautiful summer Marilla, and now I'm rejoicing as a strong man to run a race. As Mr. Allen said last Sunday, doesn't Mr. Allen preach magnificent sermons? Mrs. Lind says he is improving every day. And the first thing we know, some city church will gobble him up and then we'll be left and have to turn to and break in another green preacher. But I don't see the use of meeting trouble halfway, do you, Marilla? I think it would be better just to enjoy Mr. Alan while we have him. If I were a man, I think I'd be a minister. They can have such an influence for good if their theology is sound. And it must be thrilling to preach splendid sermons and stir your hearers' hearts. Why can't women be ministers, Marilla? I asked Mrs. Lind that, and she was shocked, and said it would be a scandalous thing. She said there might be female ministers in the states, and she believed there was, but thank goodness we hadn't gotten to that stage in Canada yet, and she hoped we never would. But I don't see why. I think women would make splendid ministers. When there is a social to be got up, or a church tea, or anything else to raise money, the women have to turn to and do the work. I'm sure Mrs. Lind can pray every bit as well as superintendent Bell, and I've no doubt she could preach to with a little practice. Yes, I believe she could," said Marilla D'Ryly. She does plenty of unofficial preaching as it is. Nobody has much of a chance to go wrong with Rachel to oversee them. Marilla said, Anne, in a burst of confidence, I want to tell you something and ask you what you think about it. It has worried me terribly on Sunday afternoons, that is, when I think especially about such matters. I do really want to be good, and when I'm with you or Mrs. Allen or Miss Stacy, I want it more than ever, and I want to do just what would please you and what you would approve of. But mostly when I'm with Mrs. Lind, I feel desperately wicked, and as if I wanted to go and do the very thing she tells me I oughtn't do. I feel irresistibly tempted to do it. Now, what do you think is the reason I feel like that? Do you think it's because I'm really bad? Marilla looked dubious for a moment. Then she laughed. If you are, I guess I am too, Anne, for Rachel often has that very effect on me. I sometimes think she'd have more of an influence for good, as you say yourself, if she didn't keep nagging people to do right. There should have been a special commandment against nagging. But there, I shouldn't talk so. Rachel is a good Christian woman, and she means well. There isn't a kinder soul around, and she never shirks her share of work. "'I'm very glad you feel the same,' said Anne decidedly. It's so encouraging. I shouldn't worry so much over that after this. But I dare say there'll be other things to worry me. They keep coming up new all the time. Things to perplex you, you know. You settle one question and there's another right after. There are so many things to be thought over and decided when you're beginning to grow up. It keeps me busy all the time thinking them over and deciding what is right. It's a serious thing to grow up, isn't it, Marilla? But when I have such good friends as you and Matthew and Mrs. Allen and Miss Stacy, I ought to grow up successfully. And I'm sure it will be my own fault if I don't. I feel it's a great responsibility, because I have only the one chance. If I don't grow up right, I can't go back and begin over again. I've grown two inches this summer, Marilla. Mr. Gillis measured me at Ruby's party. I'm so glad you made my new dress as longer. That dark green one is so pretty, and it was sweet of you to put on the flounce. Of course, I know it wasn't really necessary, but flounces are so stylish this fall. And Josie Pai has flounces on all her dresses. I know I'll be able to study better because of mine. I shall have such a comfortable feeling deep down in my mind about that flounce. It's worth something to have that, admitted Marilla. Mistacy came back to school and found all her pupils eager for work once more. Especially did the Queen's class gird up their loins for the fray, for at the end of the coming year, dimly shadowing their pathway already, loomed up that fateful thing known as the entrance. At the thought of which one and all felt their heart's sink into their very shoes, suppose they did not pass, that thought was doomed to haunt Anne through the waking hours of that winter, Sunday afternoons inclusive, to the almost entire exclusion of moral and theological problems. When Anne had bad dreams, she found herself staring miserably at past lists of the entrance exams, where Gilbert Blight's name was blazoned at the top and in which hers did not appear at all But it was a jolly busy happy swift flying winter Schoolwork was as interesting class rivalry as absorbing as of your New New worlds of thought, feeling and ambition, fresh, fascinating fields of unexplored knowledge seemed to be opening out before Anne's eager eyes. Hills peeped door, hill, and alps on alps arose. Much of all of this was due to Miss Stacy's tactful, careful, broad-minded guidance. She let her class to think and explore and discover for themselves, and encouraged straying from the old beat and paths to a degree that quite shocked Mrs. Lind and the school trustees, who viewed all innovations on established methods rather dubiously. Apart from her studies, and expanded socially, from Marilla, mindful of the Spencer Vale doctor's dictum, no longer vetoed occasional outings. debating club flourished and gave several concerts. There were one or two parties almost verging on grown-up affairs. There were slay drives and skating frolics galore. Between times and grew, shooting up so rapidly that Marilla was astonished one day when they were standing side by side to find the girl was taller than herself. Why am? How you've grown?" she said, almost unbelievably. A sigh followed on the words. Marilla felt a queer regret over Anne's inches. The child she had learned to love had vanished somehow, and here was this tall, serious-eyed girl of fifteen, with the thoughtful brows, and the proudly poised little head in her place. Marilla loved the girl as much as she had loved the child, but she was conscious of a queer, sorrowful sense of loss. And that night, when Anne had gone to prayer meeting with Diana, Marilla sat alone in the wintry twilight and indulged in the weakness of a cry. Matthew, coming in with a lantern, caught her at it and gazed at her in such consternation that Marilla had to laugh through her tears. I was thinking about Anne. She explained. She's got to be such a big girl. And she'll probably be away from us next winter. Oh, Miss her terrible. She'll be able to come home often. Comforted Matthew, to whom Anne was as yet and always and always would be, the little eager girl he had brought home from Bright River, on that June evening, four years before. The branch railroad will be built to Carmity by that time. It won't be the same thing as having her here all the time. Side-murilla gloomily determined to enjoy her luxury of grief, uncomforted. But there, men can't understand these things. There were other changes in Anne no less real than the physical change. For one thing, she became much quieter. Perhaps she thought all the more and dreamed as much as ever, but she certainly talked less. Marilla noticed and commented on this also. You don't chatter half as much as you used to, and nor use half as many big words. What has come over you?" Anne colored and laughed

a little, and she dropped her book and looked dreamily out of the window, where big fat red buds were bursting out on the creeper in response to the lure of the spring sunshine. I don't know. I don't want to talk as much," she said, denting her chin thoughtfully with

her forefinger. It's nicer to think dear, pretty thoughts, and keep them in one's heart like treasures. I don't like to have them laughed at or wondered over. And somehow, I don't want to use big words anymore. It's almost a pity, isn't it? Now that I'm really growing big enough to say them if I did want to. It's fun to be almost grown up in some ways, but it's not the kind of fun I expected Marilla. There's so much to learn and do and think. There isn't time for big words. m, Miss Stacy says the short ones are much stronger and better. She makes us write all her essays as simply as possible. It was hard at first. I was so used to crowding in all the fine big words I could think of, and I thought of any number of them. But I've got used to it now, and I see it so much better. What has become of your story club? I haven't heard you speak of it for a long time. The story club isn't in existence any longer. We hadn't time for it. And anyhow, I think we had got tired of it. It was silly to be writing about love and alokments and mysteries. Missed AC sometimes has us write a story for training and composition, but she won't let us write anything but what might happen in our town and our lives. And she criticizes it very sharply and makes us criticize our own too. I never thought my compositions had so many faults until I began to look for them myself. I felt so ashamed I wanted to give up all together. But Miss Dacy said I could learn to write well if I only trained myself to be my own severest critic. And so I am trying to. You've only two more months before the entrance," said Marilla, Do you think you'll be able to get through? And shivered. I don't know. Sometimes I think I'll be alright. And then I get horribly afraid. We've studied hard, and if Miss Dacey has drilled us thoroughly, but we may get through for all that. We've each got a stumbling block. Mine is geometry, of course, and James is Latin, and Ruby and Charlie is Algebra, and Joseph is arithmetic. Moody says he feels it is in his bones that he's going to fail in English history. Mistacy is going to give us examinations in June, just as hard as we'll have at the entrance and Marcus just strictly. So we'll have some idea. I don't wish it was all over Marilla. It haunts me. Sometimes I wake up in the night and wonder what I'll do if I don't pass. "'Why go to school next year and try again?' said Marilla. "'Oh, I don't believe I'd have the heart for it. It would be such a disgrace to fail. Especially if Gill, if the others passed, and I get some nervous in an examination that I'm likely to make a

mess of it. I wish I had nerves like Jane Andrews. Nothing rattles her. And side. And dragging her eyes from the wichries of the spring world. The beckoning day of breeze and blue, and the green things up springing in the garden,

buried herself, resolutely in her book.

There would be other springs, but if she did not succeed in passing the entrance and

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