ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

By Lucy Maud Montgomery

Table of Contents

CHAPTER I: Mrs. Rachel Lynde Is Surprised
CHAPTER II: Matthew Cuthbert Is Surprised
CHAPTER III: Marilla Cuthbert Is Surprised
CHAPTER IV: Morning at Green Gables
CHAPTER V: Anne's History
CHAPTER VI: Marilla Makes Up Her Mind
CHAPTER VII: Anne Says Her Prayers
CHAPTER VIII: Anne's Bringing-up Is Begun
CHAPTER IX: Mrs. Rachel Lynde Is Properly Horrified
CHAPTER X: Anne's Apology
CHAPTER XI: Anne's Impressions of Sunday-school
CHAPTER XII: A Solemn Vow and Promise
CHAPTER XIII: The Delights of Anticipation
CHAPTER XIV: Anne's Confession
CHAPTER XV: A Storm in the School Teapot
CHAPTER XVI: Diana Is Invited to Tea with Tragic Results
CHAPTER XVII: A New Interest in Life
CHAPTER XVIII: Anne to the Rescue
CHAPTER XIX: A Concert, a Disaster, and a Confession
CHAPTER XX: A Good Imagination Gone Wrong
CHAPTER XXI: A New Kind of Flavoring
CHAPTER XXII: Anne Is Invited Out to Tea
CHAPTER XXIII: Anne Gets Hurt Defending Her Honor
CHAPTER XXIV: Miss Stacy and Her Students Plan a Concert
CHAPTER XXV: Matthew Insists on Puffed Sleeves
CHAPTER XXVI: The Story Club Is Formed
CHAPTER XXVII: Vanity and Frustration
CHAPTER XXVIII: An Unlucky Lily Maid
CHAPTER XXIX: A Turning Point in Anne's Life
CHAPTER XXX: The Queen's Class Is Formed
CHAPTER XXXI: Where the Brook and River Meet
CHAPTER XXXII: The Pass List Comes Out
CHAPTER XXXIII: The Hotel Concert
CHAPTER XXXIV: A Queen's Student
CHAPTER XXXV: The Winter at Queen's
CHAPTER XXXVI: The Glory and the Dream
CHAPTER XXXVII: Death Comes
CHAPTER XXXVIII: The Bend in the Road

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ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

CHAPTER I: Mrs. Rachel Lynde Is Surprised

Mrs. Rachel Lynde lived right where the main road of Avonlea dipped down into a small valley. Alder trees and wildflowers grew along the edges, and a brook ran through it. This brook started way back in the woods of the old Cuthbert farm. People said it was a wild, rushing brook up there, with hidden pools and little waterfalls. But by the time it reached Lynde's Hollow, it had calmed down into a quiet little stream. After all, not even a brook could rush past Mrs. Rachel Lynde's door without behaving properly. It seemed to know that Mrs. Rachel was watching from her window, keeping a sharp eye on everything that passed by—brooks, children, everything. If she spotted anything strange or out of place, she wouldn't rest until she found out why.

Plenty of people, in Avonlea and elsewhere, pay close attention to their neighbors' business while ignoring their own. But Mrs. Rachel Lynde was different—she was skilled enough to manage her own affairs and keep track of everyone else's too. She was an excellent housekeeper. Her work was always finished, and finished well. She ran the Sewing Circle, helped with Sunday school, and was a main supporter of the Church Aid Society and the group that helped missionaries in foreign countries. Even with all this, Mrs. Rachel still found plenty of time to sit for hours at her kitchen window. She knitted quilts—sixteen of them so far, which amazed the other women in Avonlea—all while keeping a close watch on the main road that crossed the hollow and climbed the steep red hill beyond. Avonlea sat on a small triangle of land poking out into the Gulf of St. Lawrence, with water on two sides. This meant anyone entering or leaving town had to travel over that hill road, passing right by Mrs. Rachel's watchful eyes.

She was sitting there one afternoon in early June. Sunlight poured in through the window, warm and bright. Below the house, the orchard was covered in pink-white blossoms, buzzing with bees. Thomas Lynde—a quiet little man whom people in Avonlea simply called "Rachel Lynde's husband"—was planting turnip seeds in the hill field beyond the barn. Matthew Cuthbert should have been doing the same thing, planting turnips in his big field by Green Gables. Mrs. Rachel knew this because she'd heard him tell Peter Morrison the evening before, in William J. Blair's store over in Carmody, that he planned to plant his turnip seeds the next afternoon. Peter had asked him, of course—Matthew Cuthbert never shared information about anything unless someone asked first.

And yet here was Matthew Cuthbert, at half-past three in the afternoon on a day that should have been busy with farm work, calmly driving through the hollow and up the hill. What's more, he was wearing a white collar and his best suit—clear proof he was leaving Avonlea. He also had his horse and buggy hitched up, which meant he was traveling some distance. So where was Matthew Cuthbert going, and why?

If this had been any other man in Avonlea, Mrs. Rachel could probably have guessed both answers easily. But Matthew almost never left home, so something important and unusual must be happening. He was the shyest man around and hated talking to strangers or going anywhere he might have to make conversation. Matthew dressed up in a white collar, driving a buggy—that just didn't happen often. Mrs. Rachel thought and thought but couldn't figure it out, and it ruined her pleasant afternoon.

"I'll just walk over to Green Gables after supper and ask Marilla where he's gone and why," she finally decided. "He doesn't usually go to town this time of year, and he never visits anyone. If he'd run out of turnip seeds, he wouldn't dress up and take the buggy just to buy more. He wasn't driving fast enough to be fetching a doctor. But something must have happened since last night to send him off like this. I'm completely puzzled, and I won't have a moment's peace until I find out what pulled Matthew Cuthbert out of Avonlea today."

So after supper, Mrs. Rachel set out. She didn't have far to go. The big, rambling house surrounded by orchards where the Cuthberts lived was only a quarter mile up the road from Lynde's Hollow. Of course, the long driveway made the walk longer. Matthew Cuthbert's father had been just as shy and quiet as his son, and when he built his farm, he'd placed it as far from other people as he could without moving into the woods completely. Green Gables sat at the very edge of the cleared land, barely visible from the main road where all the other Avonlea houses stood so close together. Mrs. Rachel Lynde didn't consider living in a place like that "living" at all.

"It's just existing, that's what," she said, walking along the grassy lane bordered with wild rose bushes. "No wonder Matthew and Marilla are both a little strange, living back here all alone. Trees aren't much company, though there sure are enough of them around. I'd rather look at people myself. Still, I suppose they seem happy enough. People can get used to almost anything, I guess."

With that thought, Mrs. Rachel stepped out of the lane and into the backyard of Green Gables. The yard was neat and tidy, with tall willow trees on one side and neatly trimmed poplar trees on the other. Not a single stray stick or stone lay anywhere—Mrs. Rachel would have spotted it if there had been. She privately believed that Marilla Cuthbert swept that yard as often as she swept her house.

Mrs. Rachel knocked firmly on the kitchen door and walked in when invited. The kitchen at Green Gables was pleasant enough—or would have been, if it weren't so spotlessly clean that it almost looked like an unused parlor. Its windows faced east and west. Through the west window, which looked out on the back yard, sunlight streamed in. But the east window—which offered a view of blooming white cherry trees in the orchard and slender birch trees down by the brook—was covered by a tangle of vines. Marilla Cuthbert sat here now, knitting. Table behind her was already set for supper.

Before Mrs. Rachel had even closed the door, she'd already noticed everything on that table. Three plates were set out, which meant Marilla must be expecting someone to come home with Matthew for tea. But the dishes were just ordinary everyday dishes, and there was only crab-apple jam and one type of cake—so whoever was coming couldn't be very special company. Then what about Matthew's white collar and his best horse? Mrs. Rachel felt dizzy trying to solve this strange mystery at the normally simple, unmysterious Green Gables.

"Good evening, Rachel," Marilla said cheerfully. "Isn't this a fine evening? Won't you sit down? How is your family?"

A kind of friendship existed between Marilla Cuthbert and Mrs. Rachel—maybe because of how different they were, or maybe in spite of it.

Marilla was tall and thin, all sharp angles with no soft curves. Her dark hair had a few gray streaks and was always twisted into a tight knot at the back of her head, held with two wire hairpins. She looked like someone with narrow life experiences and a strict conscience—which she was. But there was something about her mouth that hinted she might have a sense of humor, if it were ever allowed to show.

"We're all doing well," said Mrs. Rachel. "I was a bit worried about you, though, when I saw Matthew leaving today. I thought maybe he was going to see the doctor."

Marilla's lips twitched with understanding. She had expected Mrs. Rachel to show up—she knew that seeing Matthew drive off so mysteriously would be too much for her neighbor's curiosity to bear.

"Oh, I'm quite well, though I had a bad headache yesterday," she said. "Matthew went to Bright River. We're bringing home a little boy from an orphanage in Nova Scotia. He's arriving on tonight's train."

If Marilla had announced that Matthew had gone to Bright River to pick up a kangaroo from Australia, Mrs. Rachel couldn't have been more shocked. She was actually speechless for five whole seconds. It seemed impossible that Marilla could be joking, but Mrs. Rachel could hardly believe it was true either.

"Are you serious, Marilla?" she asked once she found her voice again.

"Yes, of course," said Marilla, speaking as though adopting boys from orphanages in Nova Scotia were just a normal part of spring farm work, rather than something completely unheard of.

Mrs. Rachel felt like she'd received quite a shock. Her thoughts came out in exclamation points. A boy! Marilla and Matthew Cuthbert, of all people, adopting a boy! From an orphanage! Well, the world had certainly turned upside down! Nothing would surprise her after this—nothing at all!

"What on earth gave you such an idea?" she asked, clearly disapproving.

After all, this decision had been made without anyone asking for her advice, so naturally she had to disapprove.

"Well, we've been thinking about it for a while now—all winter, actually," Marilla answered. "Mrs. Alexander Spencer came by one day before Christmas and mentio