On to Charlottetown with our Dynamic Duo. We learn Wil's "Christian" name is Wilfred, according to the theatre marquee. Hetty gushes and gushes about how well he did in school as much as she can until being shushed by the other theatre patrons. Then the announcer introduces him, followed by applause. Cut to the performance. First, let's note that "wee Wil Ainsley" isn't so "wee" anymore. Second, he's playing with chains. Kinky! At least he's performing from A Christmas Carol; otherwise I'd have to start questioning how Hetty can approve of him coming (back) to Avonlea, as there'd be corrupting of young minds involved, to be sure. As he recites the story, everyone are absolutely captivated. I don't know how anyone can be captivated by how he said Jacob Marley's name, though. That was just...insane...and not in a good way. It's a wonder Hetty's not gone into a trance and started portraying one of the three Ghosts of Christmas. But then we cut to the end of the performance, where Mr. Ainsley's grand finale is "'Twas the Night Before Christmas"'s end line: "Merry Christmas to all / And to all a good night". Cue the applause and the standing ovations, including ones from the Dynamic Duo. After a moment, Hetty tries to get the man's attention. Bad idea. Going into fangirl mode from the balcony doesn't work. You have to do so on the main floor. Sure enough, he doesn't see her, and the curtain closes.
Now we're backstage...and we don't even need passes! Unfortunately, a big stagehand with a Scottish brogue catches our Dynamic Duo looking for Mr. Ainsley. They mention this, and he jokes that he's a bit young for them. Hey, never remind a lady about her age, unless they mention it first! Rachel tells him she and Hetty are "personal acquaintances" of Ainsley's. Scottish Stagehand doesn't believe a word; and good on him! He asks another stagehand named Stanley (no relation to Blair or the as-yet-unmentioned Sara) to show them the door. As they're manhandled toward that direction, Hetty loosens herself from his grasp and accuses him of implying that they're lying to him. But then, as fortune would have it, the Dynamic Duo spot Mr. Ainsley talking to a couple of young women and signing an autograph; and the elder women go into full-on fangirl mode. I guess the personality-changing aliens like trains, too. He looks at them, but then turns back to his younger fans and escorts them out. Rachel and Hetty are manhandled again, this time to the stairs leading to the exit--to which Stanley points before Hetty gives him a good whack on the hand with her programme and insists that she and Rachel will stay put until Ainsley shows himself...whenever that is. Good luck with that one. I imagine that won't be until the Armistice is signed, given their behaviour. The Lyndester vents that Big Wil didn't recognize either of them and she feels "like a right old fool". You should. You're two grown women acting like a couple of teenyboppers instead of like, you know, proper grown women. Hetty considers Rachel's statement a concession and suggests they're very close to victory. Finally, Rachel comes to her senses. She's got shopping and baking to do for Christmas. (I imagine wherever Davey and Dora Keith are, they're gonna need some comfort food from home. And lots of it. Not to mention Christmas dinner.) Plus, she refuses to stay any longer, and insists Hetty leave as well; after all, if they wait ten minutes longer, they'll miss the last train of the day to Avonlea. Hetty agrees to go, but not before leaving Stanley her card, which she promptly puts in his vest (or is it a waistcoat?).
Over at King Farm, Felicity and Aunt Eliza (whom we've not seen since "After the Ball Is Over"--which was written by the same man who graced us with this movie) are packing pickle jars into the white boxes for the needy. Aunt Eliza muses that the needy will eat better than regular folk will this year...particularly in the pickle department, Alec adds. Janet contends that it's no more than they've done every other year. Daniel jumps in saying Hetty told him that she read in the paper it's "our duty to the Empire to have lots of presents and goodies this year"...which would probably suit him fine, according to Alec. Aunt Eliza agrees that "Christmas as usual" is better for the economy during wartime. Then Alec, with all the sarcasm he can muster, suggests that was one of the more original reasons "why we should overdo it". Then the Dean boys (minus their sisters...stupid Vortex! foiled again!) rush in screaming Felicity's name. They have a letter that had come specifically for her, which she takes and reads. Janet is curious. It's from a lawyer's office in Fredericton. Alec hopes it's nothing serious. Felicity reads that the letter is from an attorney representing "a Mr. and Mrs. Alden Dean of Moncton...Aunt and uncle to the Dean children...". The boys had never heard of them. Then the bomb drops...these elder Deans want custody. I think it's time for Felicity's Lazy Susan of Careers to be dusted off again.
At the telegraph office, Felicity vents to Cess, wondering where on earth was this uncle while she and Gus raised the Deans for two years. A sombre Cess, noting the late hour, volunteers to send a wire to the lawyer first thing next morning. Felicity wonders if Cess is alright. Apparently, the roving telegrapher had to deliver a telegram from the War Office that day...this time "to the Reeds, over by Cullins Bay". Who? Apparently, someone they knew--some guy named Daniel Reed--was killed in action. Forget this guy. What about our Elbert? You'd think that we'd hear about the one we have more connection to by now. But no, we have to hear about a bunch of total strangers. Felicity expresses pity. Cecily changes the subject, asking Felicity to sit down, so they can figure out what's going to be said to the Deans' lawyer. Felicity insists the younger Deans' home is Avonlea; yet, Cess--who is now the sensible one--reminds her older sister that if the elder Deans are blood relatives, the younger ones will have to be let go. Felicity doesn't want to, but unfortunately, she'll have to.
Let's go for one final visit to the Foundling Home. Felicity is informing the boys that they--as in their aunt and uncle--have arrived. The boys stand at the ready as Felicity ushers in the people who will be taking them away from her. Introductions are made. It's a little strange to hear Felicity introduce herself as "Felicity Pike"; but at least it's one of the few things that's comforting about this movie. The uncle's name is Alden; his wife--the aunt--is named Marley. Alden isn't a bad name. But Marley? I dunno about that. It brings up all sorts of creepy connotations involving chains and fish (maybe even hockey). Slowly, the boys approach. Uncle Alden comes bearing Christmas parcels and wonders if they have a tree. The boys show him the way. A little later, the fellas are playing with an electric train set, while Felicity comes to Marley bearing tea. Felicity wonders if Marley and Alden have any of their own children. Marley says they don't, and that it's impossible for them now; but they always wanted to have kids, and it would be difficult for them to go back to their big house for Christmas without them. Then it hits Felicity like a body blow. These Dean adults are...nice! They'll treat their nephews as their own and would do the same for their nieces if it weren't for the Vortex!
Another day, and we're rocking the gossip thing old school! Gourney MacDonald, Mabel Sloane, and Clara Potts are discussing the latest news about the Deans. (Gawd, I forgot how fast news travels in Avonlea.) Mabel states how shocking it was to Felicity for it to happen. Clara declares the Foundling Home a bust and queries how many children graced its doors. "Three babies, tops?" No, Mrs. Potts. More than that. I'd say at least a dozen. (Who's in charge of continuity here?) Regardless, Gourney praises the fact that Felicity found homes for all those who were there; and Clara adds that now she's found a home for the Deans. Mabel wants to know what Clara is thinking. Clara implies that the Foundling Home must be shut down. After all, a Foundling Home with no foundlings in it is just an exercise in futility.
In Carmody, Felicity says goodbye to all the Deans (well, 2/3 of them), and goes into the station to do some business. Or pout. Or something. Clara Potts is right there. I swear; she's like lightning. In true Potts-form, with all the fake sympathy she can muster, she muses that the last of Felicity's foundlings are gone. Felicity acknowledges this, a little irritatedly. On with the plastic praises from Clara, who adds there don't seem to be enough orphans to go around, especially with Avonlea being such a small town. Felicity doesn't understand. Clara reminds her that Old Lady Lloyd left the house to the church (did not!), and Avonlea Presbyterian is the only beneficiary (is not!). Felicity doesn't know how this would concern Mrs. Potts. Now Felicity's done it. An annoyed Clara reminds Felicity she is an executive of the Church Women, and that not suggesting Felicity find another job would be a bad thing. Felicity asks if she's being evicted. Clara decides to be coy; she insists that no one wants to do this sort of thing this close to Christmas, then reminds her there's an orphanage in Carmody if she wanted to seek employment there. Felicity raises the white flag; she's had enough badgering. She asks The Potts to have the Foundling Home put up for sale. Come on; Felicity. Where is your get-up-and-go, your determination? But then, it's been in her nature to act dejected when something's not gone her way before.
At home, Alec reminds Felicity of how much of a busybody Clara Potts is (as if we didn't know), and how she shouldn't have given The Potts the thrill of victory. Felicity concedes she couldn't deny anything that was said; besides, how is she supposed to run a "charity" home, when she's the only real charity case left? Yep, Felicity's crushed. If she were Anne, she'd be philosophizing that her life was turning into a perfect graveyard of buried hopes, that iron has entered her soul, and losing the Foundling Home would be one of her lifelong sorrows. Actually, if she were Anne, she may've had the mind to give The Potts a proper tongue-lashing. Alec wonders what Felicity will do now; all Felicity can come up with is, "Something else." Duh, no guff, Felicity. What IS that "something else"? Before she can even ask to move back home, Alec agrees to let Felicity have her old room back. (Let's just hope Cess hasn't completely taken it over.) Felicity is thankful and says it wouldn't be for long--just until she gets her bearings in a month or two. Alec is happy; after all, it's another pair of hands around the house until Felix returns. Felicity inquires about her mother. All Alec can say is, "Give her time". Translation: "She's angry with your aunt and I for letting Felix go; but I'm too darn proud to admit it yet." Men.