text_original: There was always some "Dweller on the Threshold" in the shape of a 272 stitch, that couldn't be learnt, or a skein of silk that couldn't be matched, or a pattern that wouldn't come right ; and one after another of the gigantic undertakings was flung aside to decay in dusty oblivion, or to be finished by Eleanor or Mrs. Darrell. Laura Mason was not made for the active ser  vice of life.
text_transcription: THERE WAS ALWAYS SOME DWELLER ON THE THRESHOLD IN THE SHAPE OF A STITCH THAT COULDN'T BE LEARNT OR A SKEIN OF SILK THAT COULDN'T BE MATCHED OR A PATTERN THAT WOULDN'T COME RIGHT AND ONE AFTER ANOTHER OF THE GIGANTIC UNDERTAKINGS WAS FLUNG ASIDE TO DECAY IN DUSTY OBLIVION OR TO BE FINISHED BY ELEANOR OR MISSUS DARRELL LAURA MASON WAS NOT MADE FOR THE ACTIVE SERVICE OF LIFE
phonemes: ðɛɹwˌʌz ˈɔːlweɪz sˌʌm "dwˈɛlɚɹ ɔnðə θɹˈɛʃoʊld" ɪnðə ʃˈeɪp əvə tˈuːhˈʌndɹɪd sˈɛvənti tˈuː stˈɪtʃ, ðæt kˌʊdənt biː lˈɜːnt, ɔːɹ ɐ skˈeɪn ʌv sˈɪlk ðæt kˌʊdənt biː mˈætʃt, ɔːɹ ɐ pˈætɚn ðæt wˈʊdənt kˈʌm ɹˈaɪt ; ænd wˈʌn ˈæftɚɹ ɐnˈʌðɚɹ ʌvðə dʒaɪɡˈæntɪk ˌʌndɚtˈeɪkɪŋz wʌz flˈʌŋ ɐsˈaɪd tə dᵻkˈeɪ ɪn dˈʌsti əblˈɪviən, ɔːɹ təbi fˈɪnɪʃt baɪ ᵻlˈiːnɚ ɔːɹ mˈɪsɪz. dˈæɹəl. lˈɔːɹə mˈeɪsən wʌz nˌɑːt mˌeɪd fɚðɪ ˈæktɪv sˈɜː vˈaɪs ʌv lˈaɪf.