Curl up and drift off to sleep with Uncle Richard's New Year's Dinner by L.M. Montgomery, the beloved author of Anne of Green Gables, read aloud by Martin Hewlett on Books at Bedtime, the sleep story series from Calming Anxiety.
It's New Year's morning in the little village of Quincy, and Prissy Baker is buying matches at the store when her Uncle Richard walks in. He doesn't look at her. For eight long years, since a quarrel over a piece of property, he hasn't spoken a word to Prissy or to her father, his only brother.
Prissy overhears that Uncle Richard has to drive his pork to Navarre, and that with his housekeeper away he'll come home cold and hungry to an empty house and an uncooked New Year's dinner. So she sets aside her new book and her box of candy, slips into his kitchen through the woodshed door, and starts to cook. Roast pork, potatoes, cabbage, turnips and a raisin pudding. She means to be gone before he gets back.
The story
Transcribed from the audio, so the odd word may be off. Tap any line while it plays to keep the words in step with Martin's voice.
Books of Bedtime by Calming Anxiety Uncle Richards New Year's Dinner by L.M. Montgomery Prissy Baker was in Oscar Melisne's store and New Year's morning buying matches for New Year's was not kept as a business holiday in Quincy when her uncle Richard Baker came in. He did not look at Prissy nor did she wish him a happy New Year. She would not have dared. Uncle Richards had not been on speaking terms with her or her father, his only brother for eight years.
He was a big, ruddy, prosperous looking man, an uncle to be proud of, Prissy thought wistfully. If only he were like other people's uncles, or indeed, like what he used to be himself.
He was the only uncle Prissy had and when she had been a little girl, they had been great friends. But that was before the quarrel in which Prissy had had no share, to be sure although Uncle Richards seemed to include her in his rank. Richard Baker, so he informed Mr Miller, was on his way to Navarre with a load of pork.
"I didn't intend going over until afternoon," he said, "but Joe Heming sent word yesterday that he wouldn't be buying pork after 12 today. So I have to tote my hogs over at once. I don't care about doing business New Year's morning." "Shit think New Year's would be pretty much the same as any other day to you," said Mr Miller.
For Richard Baker was a bachelor, with only Mrs Janeway to keep house for him. "Well, I always like a good dinner on New Year's," said Richard Baker. "It's about the only way I can celebrate." Mrs Janeway wanted to spend the day with her son's family over at Oriental, so I was laying out to cook my own dinner.
I got everything ready in the pantry last night, for I got word about the pork. I won't get back from Navarre before one o'clock, so I reckon I'll have to put up with a cold bite." After her uncle Richard had driven away, Chrissy walked thoughtfully home. She had planned to spend a nice, lazy holiday with a new book her father had given her at Christmas, and a box of candy.
She did not even mean to cook a dinner. For her father had had to go to town that morning to meet a friend and would be gone the whole day. There was nobody else to cook dinner for. Chrissy's mother had died when Chrissy was a baby.
She was her father's housekeeper, and they had jolly good times together. But as she walked home, she could not help thinking about Uncle Richard. He would certainly have cold New Year cheer, enough to chill the whole coming year. She felt sorry for him, picturing him returning from Navarre, cold and hungry, to find a filous house, and an uncooked dinner in the pantry.
Suddenly, an idea popped into Chrissy's head, dare she, "Oh, she never could." But he would never know. There would be plenty of time, she would. Chrissy, hurried home, put her matches away, took a regretful peek at her unopened book, then locked the door and started up the road to Uncle Richard's house half a mile away.
He meant to go and cook Uncle Richard dinner for him, get it beautifully ready when slip away before he came home. He would never suspect her of it. Chrissy would not have him suspect for the world. She thought he would be more likely to throw a dinner of her cooking out the doors than to eat it. Eight years before this, when Chrissy had been nine years old, Richard, an Irving Baker, had quarreled over the division of a piece of property.
The fault had been mainly on Richard's side, and that very fact made him all the more unrelenting and stubborn. He had never spoken to his brothers since, and he declared he never would. Chrissy and her father felt very badly over it, but Uncle Richard did not seem to feel badly at all. To all appearances, he had completely forgotten that there were such people in the world as his brother Irving and his niece, Chrissy.
Chrissy had no trouble in breaking into Uncle Richard's house, for the woodshed door was unfarzened. She tripped into the hostile kitchen with rosy cheeks and mischief sparkling in her eyes. This was an adventure, this was fun. She would tell her father all about it when he came home at night and what a laugh they would have.
There was still a good fire in the stove, and in the pantry, Chrissy found the dinner in its raw slate. A fine roast of fresh pork, potatoes, cabbage, turnips, and the ingredients of a raisin pudding. For Richard Baker was fond of raisin puddings, and could make them as well as Mrs. Janeway could, if that was anything to boast of.
In a short time, the kitchen was full of bubbling and hissing and appetizing odours. Chrissy enjoyed herself hugely, and the raisin pudding, which she rather doubtfully mixed up, behaved itself beautifully.
Uncle Richard said he'd be home by one, said Chrissy to herself as a clock struck twelve. So I'll set the table now, dish up the dinner, and leave it where it'll all keep warm until he gets home. Then I'll slip away home. I'd like to see his face when he steps in.
I suppose he'll think one of the jenna girls across the street has cooked his dinner. Chrissy soon had the table set, and she was just pettering the turnips when a gruff voice behind her said, "Well, well, what does this mean?" Chrissy whirled around as if she'd been shocked, and there stood Uncle Richard in the woodshed door.
Poor Chrissy. She could not have looked or felt more guilty if Uncle Richard had caught her robbing his desk. She did not drop the turnips for a wander, but she was too confused to set them down. So she stood there, holding them, her face crimson, her heart-thumping, and a horrible choking in her throat.
"I came up to cook your dinner for you, Uncle Richard," she stammered. "I heard you say in the store that Mrs. Janeway had gone home and that you had nobody to cook your new year's dinner for you, so I thought I'd come and do it, but I meant to slip away before you came home." Poor Chrissy. She felt that she would never be able to get to the end of her explanation.
Would Uncle Richard be angry? Would he order her from her house? "I know he's very kind of you," said Uncle Richard, trily. "It's a wonder your father let you come."
"Father was not at home, but I am sure he would not have prevented me if he had been. Father has no hard feelings against you, Uncle Richard." "Punth," said Uncle Richard. "Well, since you've cooked the dinner, you must stop and help me eat it.
It smells good, I must say." Mrs. Janeway always burns the pork when she roasts it. "Sit down, Pussy. I'm hungry." They sat down.
Pussy felt quite giddy and breathless and could hardly eat for her excitement. But Uncle Richard had evidently brought home a good appetite from the var, and he did full justice to his new year's dinner. He talked to Pussy too, quite kindly and politely, and when the meal was over, he said slowly.
"I'm much obliged to you, Pussy, and I don't mind owning to you that I'm sorry for my share in the quarrel, and have wanted for a long time to be friends with you and father again, but I was too ashamed and too proud to make the first advance. You can tell him, for me, so, if you like, and if he's willing to let bygones be bygones. Tell him, I'd like him to come up here with you tonight when he gets home and spend the evening with me." "Oh, oh, he will come, I know," cried Pussy joyfully.
He has felt so badly about not being friendly with you Uncle Richard. "I'm as glad as can be." Pussy ran impulsively around the table and kissed Uncle Richard. He looked up at his tall girlish knees with a smile of pleasure.
"You're a good girl, Pussy, and a kind hearted one too, or you'd never have come up here to cook a dinner for a crab-doll-duncle who deserved to eat cold dinners for his stubbornness."
It made me cross today when folks wished me a happy new year. It seemed like mockery when I hadn't a soul belonging to me to make it happy. But it has brought me happiness already, and I believe it will be a happy year all the way through. Indeed it will, laughed Pussy.
"I'm so happy now I could sing. I believe it was an inspiration. My idea of coming up here to cook for you your dinner." "You must promise to come and cook my new years dinner for me every new year we live close enough together," said Uncle Richard.
And with that, Pussy promised.