Fiction- Anne of Green Gables- Character Dialogue
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
muffin cuff. Bert, Who's that? She ejaculated. Where's the boy? There wasn't any boy, said Matthew Wretchedly There was only her. He nodded at the child, remembering that he had never even asked her name. No boy. But there must have been a boy, insisted Barilla. We sent word to Mrs Spencer to bring Ah boy. Well, she didn't. She brought her. I asked the stationmaster and I had to bring her home. She couldn't be left there no matter where the mistake had come in. Whoa! This is a pretty pace of business. Ejaculated Marila! During this dialogue the child had remained silent, her eyes roving from one to the other, all the animation fading out of her face. Suddenly she seemed to grasp the full meaning of what had been said. Dropping her precious carpetbag. She sprang forward to stepping clasped her hands. You don't want me, she cried. You don't want me because I'm not a boy. I might have expected it. Nobody ever did want me. I might have known it was all too beautiful Toe last I might have No nobody really did want me? Oh, what shall I dio? I'm going to burst into tears burst into tears. She did, sitting down on a chair by the table, flinging her arms out upon it and burying her face in them. She proceeded to Christ or Mally. Marella and Matthew looked at each other deprecatingly across the stove. Neither of them knew what to say. Or do. Finally, Barilla, step lamely into the breach. Well, well, there's no need to cry. So about it. Yes, there is. Indeed, the child raiser had quickly revealing a tear stained face and trembling lips. You would cry, too, if you were an orphan and had come to a place you thought was going to be home and found that they didn't want you because you weren't a boy. Oh, this is the most tragical thing that ever happened to me. Something like a reluctant smile, rather rusty from long disuse. Mellowed. Moral is grim expression. Well, don't cry anymore. We're not going to turn you out of doors tonight. You'll have to stay here until we investigate this affair. What's your name? The child hesitated for a moment. Will you please call me Cor Delia, she said eagerly. Call you Cor Delia. Is that your name? No, it's not exactly my name, but I would love to be called Cordelia. It's such a perfectly elegant name. I don't know what honor, if you mean if Cordelia isn't your name, what is and surely reluctantly faltered Fourth, the owner of the name. But oh, please do call me Cordelia. It can't matter much to you. What you call me if I'm only going to be here a little while, can it? And an is such an unromantic name. Unromantic fiddlesticks, said the unsympathetic Barilla and is a really good, plain, sensible name. You have no need to be ashamed of it. Oh, I'm not ashamed of it, explained an only I like Cordelia better. I've always imagined that mining was Cordelia. At least I always have of late years. When I was young, I used to imagine it was Geraldine. But I like regalia better now. But if you call me an please call me and spelled with an E, what difference does it make how it's spelled? Asked Barilla with another rusty smile as she picked up the teapot. Oh, it makes such a difference. It looks so much nicer when you hear a name pronounced. Can't you always see it in your mind, just as if it was printed out. I can and A n n looks dreadful, but A and E looks so much more distinguished. If you'll only call me an spelled with an E, I shall try to reconcile myself to not being called Cordelia.