Read:Signs Are Small Measurable Things, But Interpretations Are Illimitable

Man: Take this one now. Tie 'em up right there.

Bash: Boy, stop skylarkin'.

Gilbert Blythe: Wow, this place looks amazing.

Bash: Just the beginning, my friend.

Gilbert: You look underwhelmed.

Bash: What you want me to do, dance?

Gilbert: It's been two years.

Bash: Yes, I'm very happy to be home. But you? You'll cry when you have to leave. Trinidad will get into your soul. Now we have to get these barrels where they're going.

Man: Alright.

Bash: Oh! Sea leg and seashore ain't friend, you know.

Gilbert: I just need to... get my balance.

Bash: You need more than that with your mawga self. You catch a stiff breeze, you're gone.

Gilbert: I'm not that skinny.

Bash: I'll find you some good Trinidadian bush medicine.

Bash: [voice over] When I was a boy, I would come down here every day.

Gilbert: [voice over] I had no idea such a place could exist!

Bash: [voice over] Bet you never thought you'd find yourself this far from... Hey, what the name again?

Gilbert: [voice over] Avonlea.

Bash: [voice over] I used to shop here for my mom. Every ingredient she cooked with had to be fresh. Nothing stale in her kitchen.

Gilbert: All these smells are making me hungry.

Bash: You have anything good to eat up on Prince Edward?

Gilbert: I like potatoes.

Bash: C'mon, potatoes? Give me something to work with here!

Gilbert: Well... Mrs. Kincannon would serve crab every once in a while.

Bash: Now we're gettin' somewhere! How'd she prepare it?

Gilbert: Boil it, I think. Add some salt.

Bash: That's it? Crab with... salt?

Gilbert: What's wrong with that?

Bash: Nothing. Crab nice when you cook it up right. Like Mommy's crab callaloo. Sunday food. She'd boil down a pile of dasheen leaves in coconut milk, throw in some onions, garlic, okra, a pig tail and then the crab. Add a whole pimento pepper and let it simmer.

Gilbert: I don't think I've ever had a hot pepper in my life.

Bash: Yeah, you? Your little dry-up body would go to war against itself!

Gilbert: I think I could handle it.

Bash: Mommy'd say, "Bash, come for a taste." I'd tip my head back and she'd feed me a spoonful. I can almost taste it now, sliding down my throat like spicy green medicine.

Gilbert: Sounds delicious.

Bash: Oh, it was. But it was always just the one taste. Then she'd serve the family... and I'd be given the scraps that were left.

Gilbert: Why didn't you eat with the family?

Bash: It wasn't my family.

Gilbert: Whose family was it?

Bash: The white people she worked for, Blythe.

Gilbert: I feel like an idiot. I'm so sorry.

Bash: Don't be. Still got more flavor from one spoonful every Sunday than you had in your whole life, from the sounds of it. Crab with... here it comes... The secret ingredient: salt.

Gilbert: Oh, wow. What a beauty. Hey. I used to ride one just like her. Come on over here, Bash. She's friendly.

Bash: I have a thing about horses.

Wealthy Man: You, boy, since you're already sniffing around my horse, go on to the stable and fetch her some feed. Angling for a tip before the job's even done?

Bash: I am not your boy. I am a free man, sir. Since 1834. I'm sure you can find assistance inside the hotel.

Gilbert: That was messed up. He just assumed you were a servant.

Bash: Way things are. If we cried every time that happens, the whole of Trinidad would be flooded. Now let's get us to a better neighborhood. You still need some medicine.

Anne: Morning. Glad you're up. I didn't sleep a wink last night. To think that we've been walking on gold in Avonlea. I well understand your... moral quandary. We're all so grateful and excited.

Reading about gold is perfectly wonderful, but... it would be even more wonderful if I could... see it.

Nate: Uh-huh. This sort of thing really isn't for children. But you're not just a simple girl, now, are you?

Ah, there. Spectacular.

Anne: I'm not... What do...? It is... gold, isn't it?

Nate: Let your eyes adjust. Don't rush it. You might find it more beautiful than you imagined. See the tiny bits among the red, how they sparkle?

Anne: Why can't I see it?

Nate: Ah, it's not your fault, pipsqueak. In fact, it's mine, and I apologize. You just don't have an expert eye.

Anne: Please don't give up on me. Oh, yes, there it is. You're right, Nate. The gold's exquisite.

Nate: Miss Marilla, don't you just look like a bright shiny penny this morning.

Anne: Oh, Mr. Dunlop, the toast smells especially good this morning.

Mr. Dunlop: Cinnamon, my dear girl, in celebration.

Marilla Cuthbert: Any morning we don't find ourselves in the grave should be celebrated.

Mr. Dunlop: Right indeed, Miss Marilla.

Nate: I agree with Mr. Dunlop. Pass the celebratory toast.

Now, Matthew, I'd like to do the extractions for you. Happy to do you that favor. Let's be sure this is done right. Hmm?

Marilla: There will be no gold testing. At least not yet. Matthew and I are undecided.

Anne: But you have to! We could be one of the richest families in Avonlea. Matthew wouldn't have to farm anymore and you could do any...

Marilla: It's expensive, Anne, and we worked very hard for that harvest money.

Nate: Matthew, Miss Marilla, I think your caution is absolutely right. The gold is all but guaranteed, but there is still some risk.

Matthew Cuthbert: Well, now, Anne, I suppose it's about time that you got a new slate.

Anne: Thank you, Matthew. I didn't want to ask, although technically I broke it defending myself.

Mr. Dunlop: Sounds like a good story.

Marilla: Not one she'll have time to tell. You can pick up a new slate from the general store after school, Anne. Now eat up, then off you go.

Nate: Ah, children. So precious... so expensive.

Diana Barry: Why didn't you tell Nate the truth?

Anne: I thought seeing the gold in the soil would be obvious. He thinks I'm a child. "Pipsqueak."

Diana: You can't possibly expect to be his equal, Anne. He's an adult and a scientist.

Uh, but that's just book learning, though. And you've already proven you're good at that. But you have something else. Remember when Minnie May was sick and you put onions on the soles of her feet to bring her fever down?

Anne: That was an old wives' tale.

Diana: It takes imagination to believe in such a thing. Your imagination is a gift, Anne, something that can't be learned.

Anne: What good is an imagination if I can't see what's right in front of my eyes?! This branch looks like a skeleton hand. An evil skeleton... that lives in the haunted forest... feeds on the lives of the innocent!

Diana: Anne, that's horrible!

Anne: Why are they clutching at us now? Do they mean to do us harm? Ghosts on the wind bearing a warning: Beware!

Diana: They're coming for us!

Anne: We must escape!

Mr. Barry: ?

Nate: I'm happy to pay the Cuthberts' [?]

Mr. Barry: ?

Nate: ?

Mr. Barry: Thank you again. Thank you.

Anne: Is that Cole? He looks different.

Diana: He looks positively mature. Not at all like he did before harvest.

Billy Andrews: Hey, Cole, throw the ball back, bud.

Hey, sissy! Yeah, you!

Cole Mackenzie: Oh.

Billy: Nice arm, Rembrandt. Wanna play?

Cole: No... I wouldn't. Thank you, though.