The Books: “Emily Climbs” (L.M. Montgomery)

Daily Book Excerpt: YA/Children’s books:

7431224128a026431bb5c010.L.jpgEmily Climbs – by L.M. Montgomery Excerpt 7!!

I think this’ll be my last excerpt from this book, although I love it so. I may change my mind tomorrow. I reserve the right to do that.

This, for me, is one of the funniest episodes in the book … it’s so RIDICULOUS, and it totally feels like it could have happened, because life just is that absurd sometimes. Perry comes and knocks on the window at Aunt Ruth’s – he needs to talk to Emily. He had been invited to dinner at some illustrious judge’s house – and Emily had been dying to hear how it all turned out. Perry is kind of lacking in manners – or, no – let’s just say that certain refined manners do not come naturally to him – he needs to be REMINDED. Emily reminds him. Stuff like: don’t fidget. Don’t eat stuff off your knife. Don’t slurp when you take a sip of water. Etc. So it’s 11 pm or something like that – and Emily had gone down to the dining room to get something – she was in her nightgown – and suddenly there is Perry at the window, knocking. Emily knew she SHOLUDN’T open the the window … but … well. She’s not a girl who worries all that much about should and shouldn’t. She opens the window – and then comes a long conversation, with Perry standing outside, and Emily standing inside – where Perry tells her all about dinner at the judge’s house. First of all, the entire story of all of the mishaps during the dinner … Lucy Maud is in rare rare form. This is one of the times I love her best – in her comedic moments, when things go WRONG. Especially when things go wrong and everyone WANTS them to go right. Like in Anne of Green Gables (excerpt here) when Marilla has the new minister and his wife over for tea and lets Anne make the pudding – and suddenly during the tea – with everyone at the table, nice and civilized – Anne stands up suddenly and shouts at Marilla, “A MOUSE DROWNED IN THE PUDDING. I FORGOT TO TELL YOU BEFORE!” I am laughing right now as I type this. hahahahaha Lucy Maud has a wicked and almost subversive sense of humor. It’s like the Marx Brothers. It is, Sheila? Yes, it is. To me, the Marx Brothers are funniest when they are in a situation where it is required that they be really civilized and proper. Because then you see even MORE how ridiculous it all is. You see how ridiculous even the CONCEPT of “order” is. Anyway, so Perry’s big meal at the judge’s is like that. Perry trips, he falls, he spills stuff, he blurts out inappropriate things … but apparently, the judge is even MORE impressed with this young upstart. He thinks Perry is kind of brilliant.

But it’s what comes AFTER Perry telling the story that is so funny to me. It’s just … well, it’s perfect.


Excerpt from Emily Climbs – by L.M. Montgomery

“Why didn’t you watch what the others did and imitate them?”

“Too rattled. But I’ll say this – for all the style, the eats weren’t a bit better than you have at New Moon – no, nor as good, by a jugful. Your Aunt Elizabeth’s cooking would knock the spots off the Hardy’s every time – and they didn’t give you too much of anything! After the dinner was over we went back to the parlour – they called it living-room – and things weren’t so bad. I didn’t do anything out of the way except knock over a bookcase.”

“Perry!”

“Well, it was wobbly. I was leaning against it talking to Mr. Hardy, and I suppose I leaned too hard, for the blooming thing went over. But, righting it and getting the books back seemed to loosen me up and I wasn’t so tongue-tied after that. I got on not too bad – only every once in a long while I’d let slip a bit of slang, before I could catch it. I tell you, I wished I’d taken your advice about talking slang. Once the fat old lady agreed with something I’d said – she had sense if she did have three chins – and I was so tickled to find her on my side that I got excited and said to her, ‘You bet your boots’ before I thought. And I guess I bragged a bit. Do I brag too much, Emily?”

This question had never presented itself to Perry before.

“You do,” said Emily candidly, “and it’s very bad form.”

“Well, I felt kind of cheap after I’d done it. I guess I’ve got an awful lot to learn yet, Emily. I’m going to buy a book on etiquette and learn it off by heart. No more evenings like this for me. But it was better at the last. Jim Hardy took me off to the den and we played checkers and I licked him dizzy. Nothing wrong with my checker etiquette, I tell you. And Mrs. Hardy said my speech at the debate was the best she had ever heard for a boy of my age, and she wanted to know what I meant to go in for. She’s a great little dame and has the social end of things down fine. That is one reason I want you to marry me when the time comes, Emily – I’ve got to have a wife with brains.”

“Don’t talk nonsense, Perry,” said Emily, haughtily.

“‘Tisn’t nonsense,” said Perry, stubbornly. “And it’s time we settled something. You needn’t turn up your nose at me because you’re a Murray. I’ll be worth marrying some day – even for a Murray. Come, put me out of my misery.”

Emily rose disdainfully. She had her dreams, as all girls have, the rose-red one of love among them, but Perry Miller had no share in those dreams.

“I’m not a Murray – and I’m going upstairs. Goodnight.”

“Wait half a second,” said Perry, with a grin. “When the clock strikes eleven I’m going to kiss you.”

Emily did not for a moment believe that Perry had the slightest notion of doing anthing of the kind – which was foolish of her, for Perry had a habit of always doing what he said he was going to do. But then, he had never been sentimental. She ignored his remark, but lingered a moment to ask another question about the Hardy dinner. Perry did not answer the question: the clock began to strike elevent as she asked it – he flung his legs over the window-sill and stepped into the room. Emily realised too late that he meant what he said. She had only time to duck her head and Perry’s hearty, energetic smack – there was nothing subtle about Perry’s kisses – fell on her ear instead of her cheek.

At the very moment Perry kissed her and before her indignant protest could rush to her lips two things happened. A gust of wind swept in from the verandah and blew the little candle out, and the dining-room door opened and Aunt Ruth appeared in the doorway, robed in a pink flannel nightgown and carrying another candle, the light of which struck upward with gruesome effect on her set face with its halo of crimping-pins.

This is one of the places where a conscientious biographer feels that, in the good old phrase, her pen cannot do justice to the scene.

Emily and Perry stood as if turned to stone. So, for a moment, did Aunt Ruth. Aunt Ruth had expected to find Emily there, writing, as she had done one month previously when Emily had had an inspiration at bedtime and had slipped down to the warm dining-room to jot it in her Jimmy-book. But this! I must admit it did look bad. Really, I think we can hardly blame Aunt Ruth for righteous indignation.

Aunt Ruth looked at the unlucky pair.

“What are you doing here?” she asked Perry.

Stovepipe Town made a mistake.

“Oh, looking for a round square,” said Perry offhandedly, his eyes suddenly becoming limpid with mischief and lawless roguery.

Perry’s “impudence” – Aunt Ruth called it that, and, really, I think he was impudent – naturally made a bad matter worse. Aunt Ruth turned to Emily.

“Perhaps you can explain how you came to be here, at this hour, kissing this fellow in the dark?”

Emily flinched from the crude vulgarity of the question as if Aunt Ruth had struck her. She forgot how much appearances justified Aunt Ruth, and et a perverse spirit enter into and possess her. She lifted her head haughtily.

“I have no explanation to give to such a question, Aunt Ruth.”

“I didn’t think you would have.”

Aunt Ruth gave a very disagreeable laugh, through which a thin, discordant note of triumph sounded. One might have thought that, under all her anger, something pleased Aunt Ruth. It is pleasant to be justified in the opinion we have always entertained of anybody. “Well, perhaps you will be so good as to answer some questions. How did this fellow get here?”

“Window,” said Perry laconically, seeing that Emily was not going to answer.

“I was not asking you, sir. Go,” said Aunt Ruth, pointing dramatically to the window.

“I’m not going to stir a step out of this room until I know what you’re going to do to Emily,” said Perry stubbornly.

I,” said Aunt Ruth, with an air of terrible detachment, “am not going to do anything to Emily.”

“Mrs. Dutton, be a good sport,” implored Perry coaxingly, “It’s all my fault — honest! Emily wasn’t one bit to blame. You see, it was this way–”

But Perry was too late.

“I have asked my niece for an explanation and she has refused to give it. I do not choose to listen to yours.”

“But—” persisted Perry.

“You had better go, Perry,” said Emily, whose face was flying danger signals. She spoke quietly, but the Murrayest of all Murrays could not have expressed more definite command. There was a quality in it Perry dared not disregard. He meekly scrambled out of the window into the night. Aunt Ruth stepped forward and shut the window. Then, ignoring Emily utterly, she marched her pink flanneled little figure back upstairs.

Emily did not sleep much that night — nor, I admit, did she deserve to. After her sudden anger died away, shame cut her like a whip. She realized that she had behaved very foolishly in refusing an explanation to Aunt Ruth. Aunt Ruth had a right to it, when such a situation developed in her own house, no matter how hateful and disagreeable she made her method of demanding it. Of course, she would not have believed a word of it; but Emily, if she had given it, would not have further complicated her false position.

Emily fully expected she would be sent home to New Moon in disgrace. Aunt Ruth would stonily decline to keep such a girl any longer in her house — Aunt Elizabeth would agree with her — Aunt Laura woudl be heartbroken. Would even Cousin Jimmy’s loyalty stand the strain? It was a very bitter prospect. No wonder Emily spent a white night. She was so unhappy that every beat of her heart seemed to hurt her. And again I say, most unequivocally, she deserved it. I haven’t one word of pity or excuse for her.

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