Music Welcome to snoozecast, the podcast designed to help you fall asleep. Find us at snoozecast.com and if you enjoy our show, please share us with a friend. This episode is brought to you by Delightful Capers. I'm Shan, co-creator of Anxiety Slayer, an award-winning podcast and online academy for anybody who suffers from stress and anxiety. Check out our link in the show notes to learn more. V invited me to guest-read, and I'm so happy to be here. Tonight we'll read Surprise House, written by Abby Farwell Brown, and published in 1917. This children's story depicts a legacy left by an eccentric old lady to her grand niece. Brown was a prolific, American author of Children's Stories and Poems, who spent her life living in her family's beacon hill Boston home. Her family was at the time the 10th generation to live in New England. Brown also penned the official song

of the Girl Scouts of the USA.

Let's get cozy.

Close your eyes.

Relax your body into the softness of your bed. Now and a quaint garden. For many weeks that had been quite empty, the shutters closed and the doors locked. Ever since Miss Nan Corless had passed, the old lady who had lived there for years and years. It began to have the Lonesome look which a house has when the heart has gone out of it, and nobody puts a new heart in. The garden was growing sad and careless, the flowers drooped and pouted, and leaned peevishly against one another. Only the weeds seemed glad, as undisturbed weeds do, and made the most of their holiday to grow tall and impertinent and to crowd their more sensitive neighbors out of their very beds. But one September day, something happened to the old house, a lady and a gentleman, a big girl and a little boy, came walking over the slate stones between between the rows of sulky flowers. The gentleman who was tall and thin and pale opened the front door with a key bearing a huge tag and cried, Good day, Crowfield. Welcome your new friends to their new home. We greet you kindly, old house. Be good to us." What a dear house, said the lady, as they entered the front hall. I know I'm going to like it. This paneled woodwork is beautiful. John shoved up the dusty windows and pushed out the odd little wooden shutters, and a flood of September sunshine poured into the old house, chasing away the shadows. It was just as if the house took a long breath and woke up from its slumber. The hallway in which they stood did indeed seem rather like the entrance to a museum. On the white-paneled walls which Miss Corless admired were hanging all sorts of strange things. Huge shells and ships and glass cases stuffed fishes, weapons, and China wear. On a shelf between the windows stood a row of china cats.

Blue

Red weapons and China wear. On a shelf between the windows stood a row of China cats, blue, red, green, and yellow, grinning mischievously at the family who confronted them. On the floor were rugs of bright colors and odd chairs and tables, sprawled about like quadrupeds, ready to run. They were in the parlour now, which had been Miss Corleus' best room, and this was even stranger than the hallway had been. It was crowded with all sorts of collections and cabinets, trophies on the walls, pictures and ornaments. They move from room to room of the old house, flinging open the blinds, and letting fresh air and sunshine in upon the strange furniture and decorations. Mrs. Cornless looked about with increasing bewilderment. How is she ever going to make this strange place look like their home? Aunt Nan and her odd ways seem stamped upon everything. Secretly, John thought all of this was great fun, and he dashed ahead of the rest of the family on their tour of the house, hoping to find still other proofs of Ant Nance's special kind of humor. But to the relief of Mary and her mother, the rest of their first exploring expedition was uneventful. They visited dining room and kitchen and pantry, and the room that was to be Dr. Corlis' study. They then climbed the stairs to the bedroom floor, where there were three pretty little chambers. They took a peek into the attic, but even in there, in the crowded shadows and cobwebs, nothing mysterious happened. It was a nice old house, where the family felt they were going to be very happy and contented. Down the stairs they came once more to the door of all which they had not yet visited. It was a brown wooden door with a glass knob. Well, here is your domain, Mary," said Dr. Corlus, pausing and pointing to the door with a smile.

This is your library, my daughter. Have you the key ready? Yes, indeed. Mary had the key ready. A great key tagged carefully as all the other keys of Ant-Nance property had been. This one bearing the legend, Library, Property of Mary Corless. Here is the key father," said Mary, stepping up proudly. And she hesitated a moment before fitting the key in the lock of her library. Her very own library. Chapter 2. The Library According to the will left by that eccentric old lady, Miss Nan Corlus, her nephew, Dr. Corlus, whom she had not seen for thirty years, was to receive the old house at Crowfield. His wife inherited all the furniture of the house,

except what was in the library. John Corlus, the only grand nephew, was to have $2,000 to send him to college when he should be old enough to go. And to marry the unknown grand niece, whom she had never seen, Aunt Nan declared, should belong, my library room at Crowfield, with everything therein remaining. Mary was now going to see what her library was like, and what therein remained. She drew a long breath in, turned the key, pushed open the door, and looked cautiously into the room, half expecting something to jump out at her. But nothing of that sort happened. John pushed her in impatiently as they all followed, eager, as John said, to see what sister had drawn. Dr. Corlus himself had never been inside this room, and Nann's most sacred corner. What they found was a plain square room, with shelves from Florida ceiling packed tightly with rows of solemn-looking books. In one corner stood a tall clock, over the top of which perched a stuffed crow, black and stern. In the center of the room was a table desk with papers scattered about, just as Aunt Nan had left it weeks before. On the mantle above the fireplace was a bust of Shakespeare and some smaller ornaments with an old tin lantern. Above Shakespeare hung a portrait of a lady with gray curls and an old-fashioned dress holding a book in her hand. The other hand was laid upon her breast with the the forefinger extended, as if pointing.

Mary and John had been poking about the library to see if they could find anything odd, but it all seemed disappointingly matter of fact. They stopped in front of the tall clock, which had not been wound for weeks. We'll have to start the clock, Father," said Mary.

The old crow looks as if he expected us to.

The key is probably inside the clock case,' said Dr. Cornless, opening the door. Sure enough, there was a key hanging on a peg, and tied to it was the usual tag. But instead of saying clock key, as one would have expected, this tag bore mysterious words, in the handwriting which Mary knew was Aunt Nance. Look under the Raven's wing. Now what in the world does that mean? Ask Mary, staring about the room. What did she mean by the Raven? I guess she means the old crow up there, cried John, pointing at the stuffed bird over the clock. But I believe this is another one of Ant-Nan's little jokes. It sounds to me. It's just an old April fool, I bet, cheered John. Mary still stared at what Ant-Nan called the raven and wondered, under which wing am I to look, she thought. Finally, she gathered courage to reach up her hand toward the right wing very cautiously. She half expected that the creature might come alive and nip her. But nothing happened. There was nothing under the right wing, but moth eaten feathers, some of which came off in Mary's fingers. I'll try the other wing, Mary said. She poked her fingers under the old bird's left wing. Yes, there was something there. Something dangled by a hidden string from the wingbone of Aunt Nann's ra. Mary pulled, and presently something came away. In her hand she held a little gold watch in chain. On the case was engraved the letter C. Why, it's Aunt Nan's watch," said Dr. Corless Beaming. Well, Mary, I declare that it is something worthwhile.

You needed a watch, my dear, but I don't know when I could have ever bought a gold one for you. This is a beauty. It's a bird of a watch," piped John, wagging his head at the crow. "'Oh, how good Ant-Nan was to leave it here for me," said Mary. I'm beginning to like Ant-Nan, in spite of her strangeness. Chapter 3 A visitor The very next day, Dr. Corlus shut himself up in his new study, while Mrs. Corlus and Mary set to work to make the old house as fresh as new. They brushed up the dust and cobwebs, and scrubbed and polished everything until it shined. They dragged many ugly old things off into the attic, and pushed others back into the corners until there should be a time to decide what had best be done with them. Meanwhile, John was helping to tidy up the little garden, snipping off dead leaves, cheering up the flowers, and punishing the greedy weeds. The whistles of crow-field factories shrieked noon before they all stopped to take a breath. Just at this moment John came running into the house with a very dirty face. There's someone coming down the street, he called upstairs. I think she's coming in here. He peeped out of the parlor window discreetly. Yes, she's opening the gate now. Let Mary open the door when she rings, warned his mother. It will be the first time our doorbell rings for a visitor. I'm sure John's face is dirty. I'm not very tidy myself," said Mary, taking off her apron and the dusting cap which covered her curls and rolling down her sleeves. The latch of the little garden gate clicked, while they were speaking, and looking out of the upstairs hall window, Mary saw a girl about her own age, 13 or 14 coming up the path. She wore a pretty blue sailor suit and a broad hat and her hair hung in too long, flaxen braids down her back. Mary wore her own brown curls tied back with a ribbon. On her arm, the visitor carried a large, covered basket. I suppose it's one of the neighbors," said Mrs. Corless. Go to the door, Mary, as soon as she rings, and ask her to come in. Even if we're not settled yet, it's not too soon to be hospitable. Mary listened eagerly for the bell. The first caller in Crowfield looked like a very nice little person. Perhaps she was going to be Mary's friend. But the bell did not ring. Instead, Mary presently heard a little click.

And then a voice in the hall below called, apparently through the keyhole of the closed door, not at home.

There was a pause, and again, not at home.

A third time the tired monotonous voice declared untruthfully, not at home. Then there was silence. John cried Mary horrified, for she thought her brother was playing some trick. What did he mean by such treatment of their first collar? Mary ran down the stairs two steps at a time, and there she found John in the hall, staring with wide eyes at the front door. What made you, Mary? I didn't protested, John. It was something. I don't know what that spoke. When she pushed the bell button, it didn't ring, but it made that sound. And now I guess she's gone off mad. Oh, John. Mary threw open the door and ran to the porch. Sure enough, the visitor was retreating slowly down the path. She turned, however, when she heard Mary open the door, hesitated, looking rather reproachful. She was very pretty, with red cheeks and big brown eyes. Oh, I'm so sorry, said Mary. You didn't ring, did you? Yes, I did, said the girl, looking puzzled. But I thought no one was at home. Somebody said so. Her eyes twinkled. Mary liked the twinkle in her eyes. I don't understand it, said Mary, wrinkling her forehead and puzzlement. Then an idea flashed into her head, and she showed her teeth in a broad smile. Oh, it must have been one of Antonan's patent jokes. The girl gave an answering smile. You mean Miss Corlus? She suggested? I know she didn't like her callers. We never ventured during the bell in her day. But mother thought, you new neighbors might be different. And I saw you going by yesterday, so I thought I'd try. She looked at Mary wistfully with a little cock to her head. My name is Katie Summers. And we're your newest neighbors, she added. Oh, do you come in, urged Mary, holding open the door hospitably? It's so nice to see you. I'm Mary Corless. Katie Summers beamed at her as she crossed the door sill. And from that moment, Mary hoped they were going to be the best of friends. John appeared just then, much excited, and forgetting his dirty face. It must be a kind of graphophone, he said, without introduction. Let me punch that button. Twisting himself out into the porch, John pushed a dirty thumb against the bell button of the corpus home. Instantly, sounded the same monotonous response. Not at home. Not at home. Not at home. I say, isn't it great, shouted John, cutting a capper delightedly? Ant-nan must have had that fixed so as to scare away callers. Wasn't she cute? Mary blushed for her brother, and for the reputation of the house. It wasn't cute, she said hastily. We shall have to get that bell changed. We aren't like that really," she explained to her visitor. We loved to see people. You were very good to come to this inhospitable old house. I wanted to, said Katie simply. And mother thought, you'd perhaps all be busy this morning, getting settled. So she sent you over this hot luncheon. Oh, how kind of you, cried Mary. Let me tell mother, she will be so pleased. It is so nice to have our nearest neighbor call on us right away. I can't stop but a minute this time," said Katie, for my own lunch and is waiting on the table. But I'd like to see your mother. I'll wait here in the hall. At the end of the hall, facing the front door, was an armchair with a back studded with brass nails. Katie sat down in this chair to wait for Mrs. Corless. Mary ran up the stairs, feeling very happy, because already she had found this new friend in the town where she was afraid she was going to be lonesome. But hardly had she reached the top of the stairs when she heard a funny little cry from the hall below. It was Katie's voice that called, Oh, it cried. Help! Mary Corless.

What is it called, oh, it cried, help! Mary Coreless! What is

it called, Mary, leaning over the banisters to see what the matter was? And then she saw

a peculiar thing. The chair in which Katie sat was moving rapidly of its own accord, straight

toward the front door. Katie was too startled to

move, and there she sat, grasping the arms of the chair until it reached the door cell. When it touched the cell, the chair stopped, and gently tilted itself forward, making Katie slide out the door. Well, I never said Katie with a gasp.

If that isn't the impoliteous chair, I ever saw. Oh, Katie cried Mary flying down the stairs. I am so sorry. We didn't know it was that kind of chair. We hadn't cleaned the hall yet. So we never suspected. It must be another of Ant-Nan's jokes. She probably had this made so that the peddlers or agents who got inside and insisted on waiting to see her would be discouraged. Please don't blame us. Then down came Mrs. Corlus, with Katie's basket in her hand. WhatWhat a reception to our first caller,' she said, with a roofful smile. And you came on such a kind errand, too. But you must try to forget, Little Neighbor, that this was ever an inhospitable house, and come to see us often. We are going to change many things." Yes, indeed, I shall come again," said Katie Summers. I hope that Mary and I shall be in the same class at high school. So do I, said Mary. I begin tomorrow. Will you call for me so that I can have someone to introduce me on my first day? Yes, said Katie, with a rogish look. If you'll let me wait for you in the garden. Mary turned red. You needn't be afraid, she said. We won't let those things happen anymore. Will we, mother? No, said Mrs is cordless. We will have the carpenter attend to those jokes at once. But until the carpenter came, John had a beautiful time, riding down the front hall on the inhospitable chair, and making the automatic butler cry, not at home. John thought it a great pity to change these ingenious devices, which made the front hall of Ant-Nance House so interesting. But he was in the minority, and that very afternoon, the carpenter took away an electronic device from the old armchair,

...