Original subtitles

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.