All language subtitles for Road To Avonlea s04e02 Lady and the Blade

substitute, but that doesn't solve the
problem.

That's four teachers in two months.

Now we can't even get anyone to answer
our ads.

Hedy managed for so many years. Why
can't anyone else? Maybe we're listing

wrong qualifications.

My only qualification is that the
candidate should be breathing. I could

strong case to Hedy. You'll never pry
her away from that baby.

Oh, Hedy, we were invited for lunch, and
at this rate, Janet will be having

dinner.

Hi, dear.

Don't be reckless.

Dottal, the poor babe.

I told you we should have waited till
after his morning nap.

Janet's loud as man. She's a mother.

Sarah, you wouldn't want to trade, would
you?

They know. Trust me. You won't want to.

Come on, Sarah.

I've had cheese all week.

I'm sorry, Felix. I prefer my own lunch.

Wait.

I've got this.

Pride of the Punjab.

I've got tiger hunts, daring do,
everything.

Someone? What's the matter?

That's what!

Just a garden.

Yes, I dare say she is.

Come on. Come on, boy. Let's go.

Unlock this door!

Let me out, you no -good ruffian!

Let me out or I'll cut your head!

That's what!

Help! Go, Olivia. You tend to let your
little...

Is this the sort of school I leave as my
legacy?

A bunch of hooligans and ruffians.

See, I didn't remit.

Too lenient, I'll admit.

Apologize to Mrs. Linden now.

Sorry, Mrs.

Linden. And you will clean this
schoolroom from top to bottom.

And if anything like this should occur
again, every one of you will

fail your year, do you hear?

Now then, you will each write a two
-page essay on decorum.

to be handed in by Monday, decorum, D -E
-C -O -R -U -M.

Is that understood?

Yes, Mrs. King.

It's all your fault, Felix.

You and Rupert Gillis.

Yeah, now we're in for it.

Two pages of writing.

What'll I say?

Nice thing about Mrs. Lind, I think.

You're so upset about it. Why didn't you
let her out, Felicity?

Between Rupert and Sally, I couldn't
even reach the door. Sally Potts kicked

you know. I thought it was sort of
funny.

Mrs. Lynde all red in the face and her
hair every which way.

Gus Pike!

That is positively disgusting.

Falsy.

It's on account of Tom Garlinghurst.

It's haunted.

And you believe that expectorating in
the road will protect you from wandering

spirits? What foolishness, Gus. There's
no such thing as ghosts.

How do you know, sir, Stanley?

I've never seen one before.

But I don't want to, neither.

You don't know so much, Felicity.

There's lots that happens that no one
can explain. Even Uncle Jasper says so.

Uncle Jasper also says that there's a
scientific explanation for everything.

We just haven't discovered them all yet.

I know.

We'll conduct an experiment.

We'll come back some night and watch for
ghosts.

That is, unless you're too afraid to.

I know about them.

But I can't fathom waiting around for no
ghost I don't want to see anyway.

Leave well enough alone, Felix King.

What?

I quit.

That's what...

Now, Rachel, they'll settle down, and
it's only a few days until the next

interview. I wouldn't go back there for
all the tea in China.

Never in all my born days have I seen
such willful, wanton behavior.

And you, Sarah Stanley, should know
better.

Aunt Hattie, there was only one of me.
When Gus tried to help, he got kicked in

the shins. Well, it's a good thing
someone knows what's right and proper.

where, pray tell, did you get this?

From Felix.

Because Felix King chooses to befuddle
his brains with such nonsense.

There's no reason you should.

Now, I have warned you before, Sarah,
about these popular pulp romances.

Teddy, it's just a piece of fiction.
Why, you read them yourself.

And if I do, Olivia, it's so I may...

Inform the publishers of such twaddle
that they are single -handedly

the intellectual fibre of the Western
world.

You can go to your room now, Sarah, and
complete the essay on decorum, and I

would advise a sentence or two on the
importance of higher literature.

What's so funny?

Destroying the intellectual fiber of the
Western world. Well, it is.

And this, this Pride of the Punjabs, an
excellent case in point.

Oh, it's nothing but one brawl after
another.

Whoever this C .L. Small, Colonel
Retired May Be, he is no writer.

So you've already read it, then?

Oh, cursory glance, yes.

Betty, Small is noted for keeping his
readers...

spellbound with adventure and suspense
and romance.

If I didn't know better, I'd think you
were jealous of these writers.

Jealous? Anyone with half a brain could
write that drivel. Right.

It's fiction, Hetty. Why, you have to
make everything up yourself. It must

a keen mind, a wonderful imagination, a
way with words, a special method of

looking at the world.

Oh, so you don't think I possess these
requisite qualities and abilities, is

that it? You're saying that C .L. Small
and his ilk are more talented than I?

Harry, those who can, do.

Lydia? There we are. Yes, we will.

My little baby boy, hi.

Hi there, Montgomery.

A sword.

A blade.

The lady and the blade.

I'm sorry.

Mr. Clive Pettibone, Colonel, retired,
Alec King.

And you do.

Mr. Pettibone, late of the Proctor
Military Academy in Delhi, Indiana.

India.

Oh. Oh, yes.

Delhi, India.

And, uh, Reading, New Brunswick.

All your teaching experience, Mr.
Pettibone, seems to be in military

Yes. So why have you applied here, sir?

You need an educator with my
qualifications.

And I have a young family who might
enjoy living here.

Sounds good to me.

Qualifications.

Avalon Lee is a far cry from a military
school, sir.

Military background.

He'll need it.

Precisely my point, Mr. King.

What are your views on discipline in the
classroom, Mr. Pettibone?

There is only one authority in the
classroom.

One voice of command, that of the
educator.

Absolutely. Children learn best given a
tight schedule.

No deviations or special cases.

Sounds just like the man we need.

Sounds just like Hetty King, that's
what.

Yes, I suppose it does.

I'm Felix King.

Sarah Stanley.

Morgan, that's Izzy. My father's being
interviewed. We're supposed to sit and

wait here, Iz. I know.

Nice toss.

Is that your real name, Izzy? None of
your beeswax.

Authority is just what those little
hellions need.

My Rupert included.

There's no nonsense about Mr. Pettibone.
No sense of humor, either. He didn't

even flinch when I mentioned that. A man
who could easily deal with glue on the

seat of his pants.

Well, it's true. Since Hattie stopped
teaching, the children have been

completely out of control.

Well, I say we fight fire with fire.

We give him a trial period.

Well, I don't... Look at it this way,
Alec.

It's either him or you.

He's hired.

A shuffling, scuffling sound.

A rasping, gasping sigh emanated from
the deep, dank recesses

hidden in the corner of his cell.

Rosamunda stepped back.

Her quaking shoulder scraped the stony
wall.

The darkness unfurled itself and moved
toward her.

Reaching, Rosamunda whispered, My love.

Her words echoed in the shallow cell as
Rosamunda ran across the cold

stone floor and into the arms of the
knight of the silver sword,

into the embrace of her beloved, where
her

lips found his.

And she could breathe his name at last.

Edward.

Oh, Hetty.

I had no idea.

Oh, it's just wonderful.

It is good, isn't it?

Well, an interesting exercise, you know.

Oh, now, I trust we keep this to
ourselves, Olivia. Oh, Lord.

What? what people think.

Montgomery looks flush to me.

In my opinion, you overdress him,
Olivia.

He's fine, Hetty.

Hetty?

This story is so good. I think it should
be published.

Published? Oh, for heaven's sake,
Olivia.

Published, indeed.

What are we doing?

minutes past Montgomery's feeding.

I'll get it. You might as well get used
to it, little chum.

in silken thread, gleamed in the
streaming sunlight, saturating the tower

She set the sword for Miss Gabbard,
shielding the swooning sister from the

slicing, side -long storm of the
Cedric's dangerous dirt.

Viro Lawson, I've been standing here in
eternity.

I can't imagine what could be that
interesting in the Chronicle.

Oh, Betty King, I feel the very fool.

But it is the most wonderful story,
though.

The Lady and the Blade.

By H .E. Le Roy.

Go ahead.

It's Leroy, I think.

Olivia Dale.

How could you? I am speechless.

Come on, Peter. That's what you are.

The moment my back is turned, you stab
me in the cherry.

No, no, no excuses.

This was our secret, Olivia.

A secret trust.

A familial bond. A check for royalties.
What?

What did you say?

Harry, they want more, much more. Read
it.

From Wilton and Straub, publishers'
representatives.

To H .E.

Leroy, Esquire.

Leroy, that's king in French. I made it
up myself.

Oh, Eddie.

They want all of it.

Lady and the Blade.

They want to serialize it
internationally.

Eddie, you've written the story of the
year.

Well, no.

Oh, this in no way excuses your
behavior, Olivia.

But, Eddie, it does change things.

internationally. Oh, my, my.

Stanley, you scared me half to death.

Gus, you don't really think we're going
to see a ghost, do you?

Well, I ain't saying one way or the
other.

But I know which way I'd prefer.

Gus!

Look, we'd better hurry. We'll be late
meeting the others.

It's all your fault.

It's all your fault, you blasted dog. Go
on home, digger, home.

caught in this storm and both of us
catch our dance. Come on.

This worked

out great.

Everyone thinks we're at Aunt Hedy's.

What did you tell Aunt Hedy? She wasn't
at home.

She's never at home anymore.

And if she is, she's locked up in a room
working on something or other.

It's very secretive, so I just...

Left a note saying that I'd be staying
at Aunt Olivia's tonight.

What if she goes over to Dale's house?

Then we're in big trouble.

Something you should be well acquainted
with, Felix.

This was a really silly idea.

Why didn't you stay home, Felicity?

She wouldn't be at all interested in
seeing the ghost, would she?

Spirit.

I think.

just like a schoolboy.

Mother! Mother!

Help! You won't believe it. What'd they
say?

What'd they tell you? What in the name
of Hades is this all about? Felicity,

Felix. It's haunted, Mr. Kent. I saw it.
We all saw it. All right, one at a

time.

Hades. It's preservative.

A murderer.

A prowler. What happened?

Take a deep breath. Oh, get the smelling
salts.

Tom Callenhouse.

Tom Callenhouse, it's fine. Be quiet,
Hattie. Sit down.

Oh,

Sarah.

Get that dog away from me.

Cause of my near brush with death.

Brush with death? You've been reading
that serial in the paper now. Just tell

what happened. That dog frightened the
horse off the road and then forced to go

on foot.

refuge in the Tom Gallen house.

You? Miss Kay?

Somebody else was there, Gus.

The ghost?

Oh, no, Felix, no. Flesh and blood.

Well, did you see who it was?

I didn't stop to exchange pleasantries,
Alec. What did you do?

I armed myself, of course, and then I
thrashed that scoundrel soundly with an

iron skillet, and then I ran, ran for my
life.

The new schoolteacher.

That's for the rest of you. I'll deal
with you later.

Big trouble.

The new schoolteacher.

Of course, no one expects anyone to be
in Tom Callen House, Mr. Pettibone. And

someone seeking refuge from the storm
and believing the old sea tales about

house being haunted, well, they might
have thought you were a ghost.

One doesn't arm oneself with a skillet
to do battle with an ephemeral being.

Good point.

Nevertheless, you will forgive and
forget.

Never.

And ever since my time spent during the
Suez Struggle have I felt my life in

such peril. And from what I can only
think is a local lunatic.

One of many, I believe, who live in your
charming town.

I have no wish to place my children in
such danger.

So I bid you good day.

Goodbye.

And good luck.

Eddie?

Alec! Mr. Pettibone has quit, thanks to
you.

Well, it was an accident, Alec.

Surely Mr.

Pettibone doesn't understand accidents?

No, no, no. What Mr.

Pettibone understands is the goose egg
on his throbbing head. Now, since you

responsible for his departure, you will
take his place until we can find a

replacement. And with the reputation
that Avonlea is getting, that could be

many, many years.

Mr. Pettibone?

I hope you'll excuse me. I'm Olivia
Dale, Alec King's sister.

Good day to you, Mrs. Dale.

I trust you're feeling better?

Mm -hmm.

I'm terribly sorry that you're leaving
Avonlea.

Are you, madam?

Why so?

Avonlea could use a man with your
abilities, Mr. Pettibone.

I hope you don't judge us too harshly.

It was all an accident, you know. You
were someplace you weren't expected to

and my sister never meant to cause you
any harm. Your sister?

Hetty King.

Well, she'd never admit it.

Oh, and you mustn't tell her that I said
so, but she was afraid, alone

in the storm.

A woman.

A woman alone.

Hetty feels absolutely terrible about
the whole thing.

She's very embarrassed.

I really do hope you'll change your mind
about leaving.

But if you don't, I thought you should
know the whole story.

Yes. I quite understand.

Sally Potts, stop printing.

And I'll have salads.

to improve those deplorable essays on
decorum.

Legs out of the aisle, that's right.

Clive Pettibone.

Oh, yes, Mr. Pettibone.

How do you do?

I'd like to speak with you.

Privately.

Ah, yes, of course.

One moment.

My children.

Izzy, Morgan.

Children.

Find a seat.

Yes, sir.

Felicity, you be in charge.

Relieved to hear on her, Mr.

Pettibone, and that you're willing to
assume responsibilities here at the

school. Your sister Olivia is very
persuasive.

Charming woman.

Oh, is she?

Really?

Oh, of course.

I would be only too willing, if you like
it, for me to share some of my vast

experience here at the school. That
won't be necessary, Miss King.

I can see for myself what your deft hand
has wrought here.

I needn't detain you any longer.

I'm given to understand you're a very
busy woman. You're free to pursue

it is you do.

Thank you. I'll do just that.

Good day to you.

Goodbye, Miss King.

And good luck.

You may call me Mr. Pettibone, and I
shall address you by your formal

Mr. King?

Mr. King, when I call your name, I
expect a response, not sloth and

Up.

Stand up straight, man.

Now, Mr. King, the chalk pieces.

Here. Chalk pieces?

You think I'm dim -witted, Mr. King?

No.

No what?

No, I don't think you're dim -witted.

Miss Pettibone, what is our proper
response?

To end each and every address with a
respectful sir.

Sir. Thank you, Miss Pettibone.

Chalk pieces, Mr. King.

Remain standing, Mr. King.

I can't say I think much of that, sir.

Mr. Pettibone's attitude, Alec. Well, we
didn't hire him for his attitude, Hedy.

Oh, he's vain, authoritative, abrasive,
opinionated, and

offensive. Does that sound like anyone
else you know?

Who?

Alec, I am serious.

Look, Hedy, I'm sure Mr. Pettibone has
the children well in hand, and they'll

learn to appreciate him, as they have
you, Hedy. Yes, but...

No, Miss King, that is incorrect.

But I'm sure if you check the play,
you'll find that the merchant is

sir. Which part of no don't you
understand, Miss King?

The N or the O?

He's just plain awful.

He likes picking on people. He hates me.
He hates everybody.

Except Izzy. She gave me a bloody nose
he didn't even care.

Who's Izzy?

It's like a prison, only worse. It's
like church, only quieter.

It's like the army. Oh, now, now.

Mr. Pettibone simply has different
manners and ways of teaching, that's

Teaching? Even Aunt Hedy's better than
him. He's vain, authoritative, abrasive.

And offensive, yes, I know, I know. All
right.

I'll, uh, I'll have a word with Mr.
Pettibone.

Mr.

Pettibone, how was your first day of
school?

As I anticipated, Mr. King. It will take
a great deal of hard work to establish

even a semblance of discipline.

I'm glad you brought that up. I don't
think we need go overboard with

and harsh punishment. I will conduct my
classroom as I see fit, Mr. King.

No, no, no. It's got to be the Jester
Ferguson.

be ridiculous, Bert.

Excuse me, please. No, no, no. It's not
the jester. It's the monk. Oh,

the monk.

Could I get some service, please, Mrs.
Lawson?

Oh, Mr. Pettibone, your order's right
here. The very man. Now, who do you

it is? The knight of the silver sword.

Who? The lady in the blade. Which one's
the blade?

The blade. What a piece of overbearing
drivel.

The worst example of pulp fiction ever
put on paper.

Really?

No, I thought that... Excuse me, Olivia.

Excuse me, Mr. Pettibone, but how could
you know anything about the creation of

imaginary worlds?

Of wits, of symbols, of motifs?

Surely you jest.

Wit, madam.

Such great turns of phrase.

as she slipped the sword from its
scabbard, shielding the swooning sister

the slicing side -long storm of Sir
Cedric's dangerous dirk, or yet again...

did win this. Pretty good, that part.
That is alliteration, Mr. Pettibone,

alliteration.

Parts I better than most.

Oh, then this, for example.

Pride of the Punjab.

A veritable plethora of literary
affectation.

Oh, listen to this.

Thunder boomed the mountain.

Oh, this... The tiger drew back its lips
into a snarl.

Its teeth gleaming, scimitars flashing,
whirling dervishes.

If anything, does that mean... The
heroine, if I dare label such a shrew,

is the most obnoxious, opinionated,
overbearing woman in Christendom.

The young private in this muddle is the
most...

nakedly wayward reprobate ever to appear
in print.

He is a classic hero.

She is the new woman.

God, keep her far from me. Oh, God, your
lover.

Peritors who lust after violence and are
themselves so stupid.

They try to follow a cannonball on its
trajectory to their own encampment.

That is mere womanish falderal without a
whit of fact.

An emasculated hero with enough tongue
twisters to render the whole mess

unreadable. Stuff and nonsense for
witless fools. Mrs. Lawson, my order.

Because you think you could do better,
Mr. Pettibone. Well, I'll let you know

that I...

Well, I don't care what the Papa Jay
says. I still think it's a right rippin'

story. Yeah. And it's got to be the
Jester.

Oh, Bert.

You've got to stop saying that. No,
Bert.

No, Bert. No, Bert. No, Bert.

No, Bert. No, Bert.

Did he wake up?

Did he wake up, baby? No.

Good day.

No.

Pedant. Oh, a fool.

In love with his own voice.

Not a creator's bone in his body. Petty,
it's not worth getting all worked up

about. His is only one opinion.

Good day.

What can I do without Mr. Pettybone's
opinions?

Mark my words, dear.

His days are numbered.

It is clear to me that you cannot be
left to your own devices even during

recess. Therefore, proper parameters
will be established.

There will be a chart posted on the
schoolhouse wall, and you will undertake

only those activities during your spare
time.

What's that mean? Big trouble.

Quiet in the ranks.

You will conduct yourselves as befits
young ladies and gentlemen.

Form up.

I hate school more than ever.

Is your father like this at home? Oh,
yes, it's wonderful.

He's the best father in the whole world.
I want to be exactly like him.

Izzy's going to be the first woman ever
in charge of the British Army.

Somehow I believe you.

Forward!

Father, when's Arthur coming to see our
new home?

I'm not sure he is.

Carry on.

Mr. King!

A very fine -looking animal.

Thank you.

Hello.

I, uh... I have to talk with you, Mr.
Pettibone.

I'm afraid that, uh...

Well, things just aren't working out.

I see.

Upon what grounds do you base this
judgment?

Your manner, sir, is too authoritarian
for our community. Your methods, too

intimidating. I think, well, we think
that you'd be better off in a military

academy than a small country school.

Mutiny in the ranks, I wager.

Your children have complained, and I'm
not surprised.

They've been allowed to run circles
around you.

are completely out of control, and have
become accustomed to getting away with

murder, but not with me.

Well, they are children, and that gives
them license to run around like wild

savages.

You will receive notice of your
dismissal in writing at the end of this

-week period, unless you are prepared to
accommodate some of our concerns.

Good day, Mr. Pettymont.

Will we have to leave, Father?

Possibly, Izzy.

Well, I sort of like it here.

I even have a friend, Felix. I socked
him in the nose.

Did you, now, Iz?

I'm sorry, children.

This is entirely my own doing.

You may give me demerits.

It's not your fault, Father. They just
don't know you like we do.

Thank you, Mr. Pettibone. That's a
wonderful draft. I'm sure it's going to

very successful book. Good luck with
your final draft. Thank you, Mr.

Good. Now, welcome to the hotel.

H .E. Leroy.

Esquire? A novelist? You, Miss King?

C .L. Small.

Colonel retired.

A truce, Miss King.

So be it, Mr. Pettiford.

Well...

Perhaps sometime we might compare notes.

I've no one else in Avonlea with whom to
confide. I would enjoy that, but I fear

I won't be staying in Avonlea. I've been
sacked.

Last at school board.

They're quite right, you know. I just
wasn't cut out for civilian life.

Oh, your own children don't seem to
think so.

Clearly they adore you.

Two out of three, maybe.

I have an older son who's away at school
studying to be a veterinarian. We don't

say aye to aye.

Never have.

But I shall be sorry to leave Avonlea.

I've rather grown to like it, despite
having been hit on the head with a

skillet.

Oh, Morton. No, thank you.

Did you read the children's essays on
decorum by any chance?

Oh, yes.

Very entertaining.

Particularly young Felix King's runaway
paper on the chivalric code of the

Knights of the Round Table. Touches on
my own scholarly interest, you know.

The chivalry code, really.

You know, though King Arthur ruled with
admirable discipline, still

he recognized the need for knightly
quests, didn't he?

Individual freedoms.

I wonder if such thinking might be
applied to children.

What do you think?

Very perceptive, Miss King.

Not unlike your heroine.

It would be very courageous of you, Mr.
Pettibone.

Not unlike your hero.

Don't give the school board another
thought.

Cheers.

We shall have no more of this.

Uh -oh, what next?

Red and water, I'd wager.

I believe that we shall undertake to
uphold the principles as presented to me

an essay on decorum penned by Mr. Felix
King.

What's he talking about?

You may follow your own pursuits, ladies
and gentlemen.

And, Mr. King, you expressed an avid
interest in swordplay.

If anyone should like lessons in the use
of the rapier, I would be happy to

oblige.

Lord?

As you were, troops.

Kingfather? Rust!

Perry! It was swell!

And we got to tell what our quest would
be if we were really nice.

We're supposed to write a story and hand
it in next week.

He even said Digger could be in the
story.

It seems highly irregular, but I suppose
it is a way of instilling grammar and

vocabulary. Now, are we talking about
the same Mr. Pettibone who was vain,

abrasive, offensive, etc.? Uh -huh, but
it's just sort of his manner of

teaching. Easy explained it all to us.
He's not really like that.

Well, it does seem unfair to make rash
judgments about a person before you even

get to know them.

I don't know about you children.

I think you'll like the heroine.

The Lady Henrietta.

Thank you.

The Crimson Rude.

With a dashing hero, Sir Clive.

A man devoted to the chivalry code.

Thank you, Miss King.

Don't mention it, Mr. Pettibone.