Emily would attend school while boarding with Aunt Ruth, who lived in Shrewsbury.
Excuse me.
You need to be more careful with that heavy luggage of yours.
Where are you from?
I come from New Moon.
I'll be attending school here in Shrewsbury for the next three years.
Oh, so you'll be staying around here?
Yes, with my Aunt, Ruth Murray.
My sympathies go out to you.
Do you know her?
Some things are better left unsaid.
Ruth's house is on the next right down the street.
How should I describe it?
It's as gaudy as the clothes she wears.
You'll be able to identify it right away.
This must be it.
It really is adorned with lace.
Isn't it enough for her to be seen wearing lace on her person?
I suppose Elizabeth told you that I will expect you to do a few chores for your board.
For the moment, we will wash the supper dishes.
This wallpaper is really hard on the eyes.
Em'ly!
Yes, ma'am.
Good grief.
The well is just outside.
Remember to put the cutlery back in its proper place.
You seem rather careless to me.
I shall expect you to keep your room neat and tidy.
They may have pampered you in New Moon,
but don't expect the same treatment here.
And you are not to bring friends into this house.
Not even Ilse, Teddy or Perry?
Ilse is a distant relative of the Murrays so once in a while is acceptable.
Not all year round, mind you.
But absolutely no boys are allowed.
And don't touch the things in my house.
I haven't touched anything.
I don't know about Teddy Kent,
but if you have any sense of decency at all, you will not associate with that Perry Miller.
Perry is a studious boy and a recipient of a scholarship.
Don't be pert with me, Em'ly!
It's Emily.
I won't have you talking back, Em'ly.
Now do some studying and go to bed at nine.
I hear you like to stay up into the wee hours, but you'll keep to the hours of this household.
What a striking pattern!
My eyes are dazzled.
It looks like this room is leaking too.
There's nothing I find pleasant about this room at all.
Father always told me there's beauty no matter where one goes.
It's absolutely true.
One more thing...
Em'ly, what are you doing?
You are not to open the window after sundown.
But I need ventilation-
I'm responsible for your health, you know?
You must know that consumptives have to avoid night air and draughts.
I'm neither a consumptive nor a child.
A contradiction, of course.
Young people think old people to be fools
and old people know young people to be fools.
Of course, I do not consider myself old, Em'ly.
It's Emily, Aunt Ruth.
I, Emily Byrd Starr, will start writing a diary today.
I wonder how my three years at Shrewsbury will be.
On the following day, Emily's life at Shrewsbury began.
Ilse Burnley, could you answer the question?
Ilse. Ilse.
Tell me about one thing Galileo discovered.
Let me see...
I've never met him so I don't know.
Ilse, you're hopeless.
Emily, do you know Galileo?
Oh, you must be Miss Starr.
I've heard much about you.
Huh?
Who's this?
You know my aunt, Missus Henry Blake, don't you?
Missus Henry Blake?
Have you forgotten her already?
She always paid special attention to you.
I think you'll remember her better as Miss Brownell.
I heard you were rather bold, but it looks like you're pretty small in stature.
Miss Brownell-
No doubt Missus Henry Blake painted a very flattering picture of me.
Oh, my!
You're really funny.
I understand you are quite literary.
I suppose you submit them.
Yes, most certainly.
So what papers do you write for regularly?
Well...
Oh, excuse me.
Submitting them and actually having them published are quite different things.
How thoughtless of me.
Who on Earth are you?
Pardon me not introducing myself.
I'm Evelyn Blake.
My writings are published weekly on The Quill.
Please, do read them.
Well then, I bid you good day.
Evelyn Blake, huh?
Does she think she's a noblewoman wrapped in a fox-fur muffler?
I don't like her attitude.
The Quill is a paper published by the Literary Society.
Although her writings don't interest me in the least.
You've read them?
I was going to tell you about it later.
I'm sure they'd publish your poems in a heartbeat.
But after meeting Evelyn, my impression of the paper has just gone down.
Say, would you like to come over to my place after school?
Emily?
I've decided.
I'm going to submit my works to The Quill.
No, not only The Quill,
but The Enterprise and the Shrewsbury Times too.
I'll challenge Evelyn with my writings.
Go for it, Emily.
How is it?
Oh dear, you seem disappointed.
My cousin Tom said this.
Tom's the editor of The Quill.
"Your poem wasn't half bad."
"But it's still a far cry from the standards of The Quill."
Yes, I'm sure it's beyond me to make "beam" rhyme with "green".
What's that? A pun?
Miss Starr, in another three years I'm sure you'll understand the meaning of "green" with envy.
Though it'll be time for you to graduate by then.
Most unfortunate.
Oh, that reminds me.
I'm sure you'll be participating in the Shrewsbury Poetry Competition.
Most certainly.
I'd love to see which one of us comes out on top.
Good day.
What did that woman come here for?
Obviously, she was here to tease me about my poem not getting published.
I refuse to lose to the likes of her.
There's something shady about The Quill.
Evelyn's got published, but not Emily's.
Some things can't be helped, Ilse.
They'd never publish something from a freshman.
We know best how good your work is.
Don't forget that.
Thank you, Teddy.
That's right.
We'll always support you.
Perry was the top of the class for the recent English and Math tests.
That's great, Perry.
If you work that hard, you really might become the President.
Though Canada doesn't have a President.
I'm going to become a lawyer and enter politics.
Right, right.
And you're going to marry Emily too.
Of course!
Not that again.
Teddy's going to be an artist and Emily a writer.
I'm going to...
I'm...
Ilse should just be an Ilse.
What do you mean by, "be an Ilse"?
Beats me.
Teddy Kent, the Art Club is starting.
Okay, I'm on my way.
See you guys.
Well, I'd better get to work.
I'd better go home too, before Aunt Ruth starts grumbling.
Bye Ilse, see you tomorrow.
Bye.
Okay, see you all tomorrow.
I'd love to have a dream too.
Just one more to go.
How's it going, Emily?
Quite well, but I just can't find the final word to finish it.
At these times, you need a change of atmosphere.
Shall we go work part-time somewhere?
Part-time?
Yeah, we'll go from house to house selling subscriptions for the new special edition of the Shrewsbury Times.
Sounds interesting.
I'd be glad to earn some money for my postage.
Then, it's decided.
I've got it! The last line.
Here it is. The results of the poetry competition.
The winning poem is...
..."A Legend of Abegweit" by Evelyn Blake.
I can't believe this!
Evelyn won, instead of you?
I cannot deny that "A Legend of Abegweit" is a fairly good poem.
Emily?
It's in ballad style, and its rhythm and rhyme are correct...
which cannot be said of any other poem of Evelyn's I've ever seen.
What are you saying, Emily?
Why are you praising her work?
Oh, is that what you heard?
I was only praising the poem.
I can't quite put my finger on it, but it isn't an expression of her at all.
Well, I'm sure I wouldn't know better.
What a glorious day we're having.
We're finally on our way.
To the distant land beyond the hills.
Come on, Emily.
To the distant land beyond the hills!
The Shrewsbury Times is publishing a special edition.
The new paper will come with illustrations.
Would you like a subscription...?
Kind sir?
Excuse me?
Not interested.
I'm glad.
What are you so happy about? He said no.
I'm glad the reply wasn't "hmph" this time.
It was getting monotonous.
You're pretty funny.
I like you.
Little missy, are you any relation to the proud Murrays?
My mother is a Murray.
I was thinking so.
I can smell the air of a Murray coming from you.
Sign me up for two dollars.
I don't favour buying bearskins before I see the bear.
But it's worth two dollars to see a proud Murray coming down to ask old Billy Scott for a subscription.
Thank you, sir.
I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle.
It's quite all right.
What is this object used for?
It's a projector.
It's broken and requires repair.
Could you bring that over?
No, don't touch that!
Pardon me.
Umm... about the paper...
I'm sorry. I don't have a habit of reading papers.
And so, you young ladies have ventured into unfamiliar lands in search of subscriptions?
Yes, sir.
Are you in high school?
We are.
How lamentable.
This is the problem with the education system these days.
Women shouldn't need an education-
If you must complain, sir, please tell it to a mirror.
Let's go, Ilse.
I'm seething!
Can you believe people can be so detestable?
"Human Nature from a Canvasser's Point of View" is to be the subject of my essay.
I'll describe that man and picture myself telling him all the things I wanted to say but didn't!
It must be nice.
I can't even take that revenge.
My promise to Aunt Elizabeth binds me.
I shall have to stick to facts.
A promise, huh?
Come, let's not think of the brute.
Look.
That cloud over the firs looks like the faint, golden ghost of a cloud.
A golden ghost of a cloud, huh?
Yeah, I see it. I see it.
Right?
A special edition of the Shrewsbury Times?
Yes, ma'am.
It's a new publication and it includes many illustrations.
Would you like a subscription, ma'am?
Let's play! Let's play!
Big sister, tell me a story.
Okay?
Let me see...
A story...
Ah, little flower, so lovely.
So graceful, ever looking up into the sky.
The sky is reflected in those eyes so blue.
Reflected!
Who is it?
Who? Who?
Big sister, tell us more.
Tell us more.
A subscription for twelve copies then.
The sea!
The sea reflects an image of a glimmering future!
That's my poem.
Let the hopes of the young sailors be heard,
as they are carried to the coast,
on the shells of the clams.
In a garden of blooming flowers, the butterflies glide.
No person can ever know how uncertain the butterflies feel, or their pride.
The beauty of their destiny to fade into the light.
We have to find the Wiltney before it gets dark.
Shall we take a shortcut?
Yes, let's cut though the Malvern Woods.
Agreed.
Where is this place?
I don't see anything like Wiltney.
Say, Ilse.
What?
Could that be...
The spire of the Catholic church at Indian Head?
We must have taken a wrong turn somewhere, Ilse.
Then this must be Hardscrabble Road.
We're five miles from Wiltney.
It will be pitch dark in a quarter of an hour.
What should we do?
Admit we're lost and make a beautiful thing of it.
Make a beautiful thing of it? How?
We can't stay here all night.
Why can't we stay here all night?
Are you serious, Emily?
I'm serious.
Where can we sleep?
Hang ourselves over this fence?
I have a better place in mind.
Over on that haystack.
Over on a haystack?
Right, the hay is dry and clean.
Tonight is as warm as the summer.
There are no mosquitoes this time of year.
We can put our raincoats over us to keep off the dew.
What will Aunt Ruth say?
Aunt Ruth need never know it.
I've always longed to sleep out in the open.
This is like a dream.
It's so wonderful it hurts me.
I hear the Wind Woman running with soft, soft footsteps over the hill.
She is a shrew when she blows from the north.
A lonely seeker when she blows from the east.
A laughing girl when she comes from the west.
And from the south a little grey fairy.
How do you think of such things?
I don't think of them, they just come.
My inspiration.
You amaze me, Emily.
You're the one who's amazing, Ilse.
The way you delivered the poems earlier.
I'm so touched that you remember so many of my poems.
Well, your poems are beautiful.
I was glad.
I was glad to read your poems to those children.
I felt filled with happiness.
I've never felt that way before.
That's great, Ilse.
I'm sure you'll become the greatest elocutionist in all of Canada.
I see. An elocutionist, huh?
I can't write poems like you can, but I want to convey how wonderful they are.
I want to let everyone enjoy them.
Thank you, Emily!
That night with Ilse on the haystack was one night Emily would never forget.
We got caught in a blizzard and had to take shelter.
At that moment Teddy's eyes met mine.
Why do I feel my heart pounding?
On the next episode of Emily of New Moon:
Confession Under the Snow.
Watch for it!