The Books: Chronicles of Avonlea – ‘The Quarantine at Alexander Abraham’s’ (L.M. Montgomery)

Daily Book Excerpt: YA/Children’s books:

chroniclesavonlea.gifChronicles of Avonlea by L.M. Montgomery. Next story in the collection: “The Quarantine at Alexander Abraham’s”.

Okay, here’s the magic of Lucy Maud: I can’t count how many times I’ve read this story, and every time – it is a delight. Seriously. How many authors can you say that about? She has SO many stories and books like that for me – that I can just keep coming to them, and finding joy in reading them. This story is HYSTERICAL. Not only that – the two lead characters are emblazoned in my mind – they are such individuals – and it’s so fun to just sit back and watch the whole disaster unfold. Even though I already know how the story will end … it’s also one of my favorite “endings”. The story ends just perfectly.

We’ve got the two leads: Angelina MacPherson – an unmarried Sunday School teaching woman. She hates men. She’s known for it in Avonlea. She’s a feminist. She is so angry at the girlie name her mother foisted on her – that to retaliate she calls herself “Peter” and always has. She doesn’t want to be associated with any silly name like “Angelina”. She is treated with deference, because – it seems like everyone is, uhm, a little bit AFRAID of her. Men become used to just being ABUSED by her, and women cower in fear. She just stalks through her life, righteously, organizing everyone else, being slightly judgmental towards everyone, and rolling her eyes at the foibles of men.

Then there’s Alexander Abraham Bennett, an old bachelor, who lives in complete SQUALOR on his old farm. He is a woman-hater. Known for it in Avonlea. He is a successful man – not a loser, or a drunk – He just won’t have a housekeeper, and so everything is falling apart, and coated in dust. He has a dog. He refuses to go to church. He is an eccentric. Ever since his sister died, uhm, 20 years before?? – not one woman has set foot inside his house. As a matter of fact, if a woman comes to ask him to donate to charity or whatever – he has been known to chase them off his property with a pitchfork. He hates women.

Okay, so there’s our set-up. Peter McPherson (let’s call her what SHE wants to be called) drives out to Alexander Abraham’s to find out why Jimmy Spencer, a young boy who works for Alexander, hasn’t been in Sunday School for 3 weeks. She has heard the stories about his hatred of women and how he won’t let any woman come near him – and SHE is having NONE of it. SHE knows how to handle men. Because she despises them and has contempt for their sorry stupid irresponsible little lives.

(Uhm, and have I mentioned that this story turns into a great romance? One of my favorites of her romances?? hahahahaha These two crackpots who make a huge show of hating the opposite sex ….)

When she arrives at his house, she gets out of her buggy – she has her cat with her for some reason – and they are immediately attacked by his dog – who is so fierce that she is forced to climb up a tree. She hangs out up in the tree for a while (already this is amusing – because in the first 3 pages of the story, you get the picture of this woman – this judgmental perfectionist woman – and now she is shimmying up a tree in alarm.) Finally, she decides she can wait no longer to be saved – so she climbs INTO an open window – into the house of Alexander Abraham – where no woman has set foor in 20 years. She immediately sees what a mess his house is – and her fingers itch to begin cleaning with a vengeance – but for now she has other fish to fry. FURIOUS at how she has been treated by his dog, she stalks downstairs – and there is Alexander Abraham, sitting downstairs – and he looks at her, horrified, as she emerges from WITHIN his house. How on earth did that WOMAN get in here??

At that very moment, the doctor drives up in his buggy – Alexander runs and flings open the door – and the doctor informs him that because of the smallpox outbreak in town, and because Alexander Abraham had not been vaccinated – he has to put him under quarantine. And sadly – because Peter crawled through the window – she also will not be allowed to leave. She will now have to stay at Alexander Abraham’s.

These two people are FURIOUS at being stuck with each other. She is contemptuous, he is a crank – she sends for all of her clothes – and so the quarantine begins. One of the first things she MUST do is to clean his house from top to bottom. Not out of kindness towards HIM, oh no. Just because it is a MORAL obligation to ANY fellow human creature that they do not WALLOW IN THEIR OWN FILTH. She cleans – and Alexander Abraham sits back and just GLARES at her.

Guys, this story is just wonderful. You would think that these two self-righteous temperamental people would never fall in love … but … but … OH! I just love it!!

Here’s an excerpt from the beginning of the quarantine.


Excerpt from Chronicles of Avonlea by L.M. Montgomery – “The Quarantine at Alexander Abraham’s”.

Alexander Abraham was sitting on a chair looking at me. Presently he said,

“I am not curious — but will you kindly tell me why the doctor called you Peter?”

“Because this is my name, I suppose,” I answered, shaking up a cushion for William Adolphus and thereby disturbing the dust of years.

Alexander Abraham coughed gently.

“Isn’t that — ahem! — rahter a peculiar name for a woman?”

“It is,” I said, wondering how much soap, if any, there was in the house.

“I am not curious,” said Alexander Abraham, “but would you mind telling me how you came to be called Peter?”

“If I had been a boy, my parents intended to call me Peter in honour of a rich uncle. When I — fortunately — turned out to be a girl, my mother insisted that I should be called Angelina. They gave me both names and called me Angelina, but as soon as I grew old enough, I decided to be called Peter. It was bad enough, but not so bad as Angelina.”

“I should say it was more appropriate,” said Alexander Abraham, intending, as I perceived, to be disagreeable.

“Precisely,” I agreed calmly. “My last name is MacPherson, and I live in Avonlea. As you are not curious, that will be all the information you will need about me.”

“Oh!” Alexander Abraham looked as if a light had broken in on him. “I’ve heard of you. You — ah — pretend to dislike men.”

Pretend! Goodness only knows what would have happened to Alexander Abraham just then if a diversion had not taken place. But the door opened and a dog came in — the dog. I suppose he had got tired waiting under the cherry tree for William Adolphus and me to come down. He was even uglier indoors than out.

“Oh, Mr. Riley, Mr. Riley, see what you have let me in for,” said Alexander Abraham reproachfully.

But Mr. Riley – since that was the brute’s name – paid no attention to Alexander Abraham. He had caught sight of William Adolphus curled up on the cushion, and he started across the room to investigate him. William Adolphus sat up and began to take notice.

“Call off that dog,” I said warningly to Alexander Abraham.

“Call him off yourself,” he retorted. “Since you’ve brought that cat here, you can protect him.”

“Oh, it wasn’t for William Adolphus’ sake I spoke,” I said pleasantly. “William Adolphus can protect himself.”

William Adolphus could and did. He humped his back, flattened his ears, swore once, and then made a flying leap for Mr. Riley. William Adolphus landed squarely on Mr. Riley’s brindled back and promptly took fast hold, spitting and clawing and caterwauling.

You never saw a more astonished dog than Mr. Riley. With a yell of terror he bolted out to the kitchen, out of the kitchen into the hall, through the hall into the room, and so into the kitchen and round again. With each circuit he went faster and faster, until he looked like a brindled streak with a dash of black and white on top. Such a racket and commotion I never heard, and I laughed until the tears came to my eyes. Mr. Riley flew around and around, and William Adolphus held on grimly and clawed. Alexander Abraham turned purple with rage.

“Woman, call off that infernal cat before he kills my dog,” he shouted above the din of yelps and yowls.

“Oh, he won’t kill him,” I said reassuringly, “and he’s going too fast to hear me if I did call him. If you can stop the dog, Mr. Bennett, I’ll guarantee to make William Adolphus listen to reason, but there’s no use trying to argue with a lightning flash.”

Alexander Abraham made a frantic lunge at the brindled streak as it whirled past him, with the result that he overbalanced himself and went sprawling on the floor with a crash. I ran to help him up, which only seemed to enrage him further.

“Woman,” he sputtered viciously, “I wish you and that fiend of a cat were in — in –”

“In Avonlea,” he finished quickly, to save Alexander Abraham from committing profanity. “So do I, Mr. Bennett, with all my heart. But since we are not, let us make the best of it like sensible people. And in future, you will kindly remember that my name is Miss MacPherson, not Woman!”

With this the end came, and I was thankful, for the noise those two animals made was so terrific that I expected the policeman would be rushing in, smallpox or no smallpox, to see if Alexander Abraham and I were trying to murder each other. Mr. Riley suddenly veered in his mad career and bolted into a dark corner between the stove and the wood-box. William Adolphus let go just in time.

There never was any more trouble with Mr. Riley after that. A meeker, more thoroughly chastened dog you could not find. William Adolphus had the best of it and he kept it.

Seeing that things had calmed down, and that it was five o’clock, I decided to get tea. I told Alexander Abraham that I would prepare it, if he would show me where the eatables were.

“You needn’t mind,” said Alexander Abraham. “I’ve been in the habit of getting my own tea for twenty years.”

“I daresay. But you haven’t been in the habit of getting mine,” I said firmly. “I wouldn’t eat anything you cooked if I starved to death. If you want some occupation, you’d better get some salve and anoint the scratches on that poor dog’s back.”

Alexander Abraham said something that I prudenly did not hear. Seeing that he had no information to hand out, I went on an exploring expedition into the pantry. The place was awful beyond description, and for the first time a vague sentiment of pity for Alexander Abraham glimmered in my breast. When a man had to live in such surroundings, the wonder was, not that he hated women, but that he didn’t hate the whole human race.

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2 Responses to The Books: Chronicles of Avonlea – ‘The Quarantine at Alexander Abraham’s’ (L.M. Montgomery)

  1. amelie / rae says:

    this was the first one i ever read in this book — not that it came first, it’s just where i started. and where i keep starting, and finishing, every time i read the book…

  2. red says:

    I love how Alexander Abraham finally can’t stand it – after she goes home when the quarantine has been lifted. He got used to her. He liked her. A woman!! I just love love love that ending scene. :)

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