text_original: "What is to be, must be," Rhoda replied. "Don't stop to unpack anything," continued her mother, trying not to notice the gloomy answer. "Come downstairs again as soon as you can. There's a good fire, and a bit of something nice for tea. It's a kind of day that takes the light and colour out of everything," she added, with a slight shiver. "I'll never grumble at the weather that God sends; yet I'm always glad when we've got through November."
text_transcription: WHAT IS TO BE MUST BE RHODA REPLIED DON'T STOP TO UNPACK ANYTHING CONTINUED HER MOTHER TRYING NOT TO NOTICE THE GLOOMY ANSWER COME DOWN STAIRS AGAIN AS SOON AS YOU CAN THERE'S A GOOD FIRE AND A BIT OF SOMETHING NICE FOR TEA IT'S A KIND OF DAY THAT TAKES THE LIGHT AND COLOR OUT OF EVERYTHING SHE ADDED WITH A SLIGHT SHIVER I'LL NEVER GRUMBLE AT THE WEATHER THAT GOD SENDS YET I'M ALWAYS GLAD WHEN WE'VE GOT THROUGH NOVEMBER
phonemes: "wˌʌt ɪz tə bˈiː, mˈʌst bˈiː," ɹˈoʊdɚ ɹᵻplˈaɪd. "dˈoʊnt stˈɑːp tʊ ʌnpˈæk ˈɛnɪθˌɪŋ," kəntˈɪnjuːd hɜː mˈʌðɚ, tɹˈaɪɪŋ nˌɑːt tə nˈoʊɾɪs ðə ɡlˈuːmi ˈænsɚ. "kˈʌm dˈaʊnstɛɹz ɐɡˈɛn æz sˈuːn æz juː kˈæn. ðɛɹz ɐ ɡˈʊd fˈaɪɚ, ænd ɐ bˈɪt ʌv sˈʌmθɪŋ nˈaɪs fɔːɹ tˈiː. ɪts ɐ kˈaɪnd ʌv dˈeɪ ðæt tˈeɪks ðə lˈaɪt ænd kˈʌlɚɹ ˌaʊɾəv ˈɛvɹɪθˌɪŋ," ʃiː ˈædᵻd, wɪð ɐ slˈaɪt ʃˈɪvɚ. "aɪl nˈɛvɚ ɡɹˈʌmbəl æt ðə wˈɛðɚ ðæt ɡˈɑːd sˈɛndz; jˈɛt aɪm ˈɔːlweɪz ɡlˈæd wɛn wiːv ɡɑːt θɹuː noʊvˈɛmbɚ."