Mrs. Rachel Lynde lived on the main road in Avonlea, a town on Prince Edward Island, off the coast of Canada.
Anybody who was coming to or leaving Avonlea had to use the main road and pass by the Lyndes' house.
Mrs. Lynde was always watching from her kitchen window.
Mrs. Lynde sat at her window one afternoon in early June.
At half-past three, Matthew Cuthbert was driving his buggy down the road. He wore his best suit.
"Matthew should be planting turnip seeds now like Mr. Lynde," thought Mrs. Lynde.
"But instead he is in his buggy and dressed in his best suit!
Where is Matthew Cuthbert going and why?"
If it was any other man in Avonlea, Mrs. Lynde might be able to guess where he was going.
But Matthew Cuthbert so rarely left home that it had to be something unusual.
He was the shyest man alive and hated to go anywhere he might have to talk.
"I'll just go to Green Gables and ask his sister, Marilla, where he's gone," she decided.
After hearing "Come in!" from Marilla, Mrs. Lynde stepped into the kitchen.
She looked carefully at everything on the table.
There were three plates, so Marilla must have been expecting a visitor to come home with Matthew.
But the dishes were everyday dishes and the cake was plain, so the expected visitor could not be anybody too important.
"Good evening, Rachel," Marilla greeted Mrs. Lynde.
"This is a lovely evening, isn't it? Won't you sit down? How are you?"
Marilla was tall and thin. Even though she looked stern, she did have a sense of humor.
"We're well," said Mrs. Lynde. "Though I thought you weren't well when I saw Matthew in the buggy today."
Marilla had expected Mrs. Lynde to visit because Mrs. Lynde was a curious person.
"Matthew went to Bright River," Marilla said.
"We're getting a little boy from an orphanage, and he's coming on the train tonight."
If Marilla had said that Matthew had gone to meet a kangaroo from Australia, Mrs. Lynde could not be more surprised.
She actually stopped talking for five seconds.
"Why on earth would you do that?" she asked disapprovingly.
"We've been thinking about it for some time—all winter, in fact," replied Marilla.
"Matthew is growing older. He's sixty, and his heart is not so good.
It's difficult to hire someone to do farm work."
Mrs. Lynde always said what she thought.
In this case it was, "Well, Marilla, I think you're doing a very foolish thing.
You're bringing a strange child into your house and you don't know a thing about him!
Last week in the newspaper,
it said that a family took an orphan boy and he set fire to the house at night—on purpose, Marilla—and nearly burnt them in their beds."
Marilla was neither offended nor alarmed.
Meanwhile Matthew Cuthbert and the horse jogged the ten kilometers to the station.
It was a pretty road, and the air was sweet with the smell of apple and plum blossoms.
When Matthew arrived, there was no train, and he thought he was early.
The long platform was almost deserted, except for a girl sitting at the end.
Matthew walked quickly past her to the station office.
"The five-thirty train has gone, but there was a passenger for you, a little girl," said the stationmaster.
"I'm not expecting a girl," said Matthew, surprised. "It's a boy I've come for."
The stationmaster raised his eyebrows. "Well, I guess there's some mistake.
Mrs. Spencer came off the train with that girl.
She said you and your sister, Marilla, were adopting the girl from an orphanage."
The girl watched Matthew. She was eleven years old and dressed in a very old and very ugly dress.
On her head was a worn-out, brown hat.
Under the hat were two braids of very thick, very red hair.
Her face was small, white, and thin, and she had many freckles.
"I suppose you are Mr. Matthew Cuthbert of Green Gables?" she said in a clear, sweet voice.
She held out her hand. "I'm very glad to see you.
I was afraid you weren't coming for me.
I had decided if you didn't come for me, I'd climb up that big wild cherry tree.
It would be lovely to sleep in a wild cherry tree under the moon, don't you think?"
Matthew shook the little hand awkwardly and wondered what to say.
Matthew could not say there was a mistake; he would take her home and let Marilla explain everything.
"I'm sorry I was late," he said shyly.
"Come along. The horse is over in the yard."
"Oh, I'm very glad you came," the girl said, "even if it would be nice to sleep in a cherry tree.
It's wonderful I'm going to live with you and belong to you.
I've never belonged to anybody—not really."
The girl kept talking as they drove down the main road.
"Isn't it beautiful?" she said. "I've always heard that Prince Edward Island is the prettiest place in the world.
I used to imagine living here, but I never expected I actually would.
Am I talking too much?" she went on. "People always tell me I do.
If you say so, I'll stop. I can stop, though it is difficult."
Surprisingly, Matthew was enjoying himself. He'd never expected to enjoy the company of a young girl.
He said shyly, "Oh, you can talk as much as you like. I don't mind."
"I'm so glad. You and I will get along just fine. I feel nearly perfectly happy.
I can't feel perfectly happy because—well, what color is this?" The girl held up one of her braids.
"It's red, isn't it?" he said.
"Yes, it's red," she said, sighing. "Now you see why I can't be perfectly happy.
Nobody with red hair can be perfectly happy."
"We're near home now," Matthew said uneasily.
As they approached Green Gables, he did not think about Marilla or himself or the mistake.
He thought only about the child's disappointment when she discovered the truth.