With this Matthew's companion stopped talking, partly because she was out of breath, and partly because they had reached the buggy. Not another word did the girl say until they had left the village and were driving down a steep little hill where the road had been cut so deeply into the soft soil that the banks were fringed with wild cherry trees and slim white birches, only a few feet above their heads.
The child put out her hand and broke off a branch of wild plum that brushed against the side of the buggy. "Isn't that beautiful?" the girl exclaimed. "What did that tree, leaning out from the bank, all white and lacy, make you think of?" she asked.
"Well now, I don't know," said Matthew. "Well, that is one of the things to find out sometime. Isn't it splendid to think of all the things there are to find out about, don't you think? It just makes me feel glad to be alive, it's such an interesting world! It wouldn't be half so interesting if we know all about everything, would it? There'd be no scope for imagination then, would there? But am I talking too much? People are always telling me I do. Would you rather I didn't talk? If you say so I'll stop. I can stop when I make up my mind to it, although it is rather difficult." Matthew, much to his own surprise, was enjoying himself. Like most quiet folks he liked talkative people when they were willing to do the talking themselves and did not expect him to keep up his end of the conversation. But he had never expected to enjoy the company of this little girl. Women were difficult enough for Matthew to handle, but little girls were worse. He detested the way they slipped past him timidly, with sidewise glances, as if they expected him to gobble them in at a mouthful if they ventured to say a word. That was the Avonlea type of well-bred little girl Matthew was used to. But this freckled witch was very different, and although he found it rather difficult for his slower intelligence to keep up with her brisk mental processes he thought that he kind of liked her chatter. So he said as shyly as usual: "Oh, you can talk as much as you like. I don't mind." "Oh, I'm so glad. I know you and I are going to get along just fine. It's such a relief to talk when one wants to and not be told that children should be seen and not heard. I've heard that a million times if I've heard it once. And people laugh at me because I use big words. But if you have big ideas you have to use big words to express them, haven't you?" "Well now, that seems reasonable," Matthew replied. Mrs. Spencer said your place was named Green Gables. I asked her all about it. And when she said there were trees all around it, I was happier than ever. I just love trees.
And there weren't any at all around the asylum, only a few poor teeny- weeny things in the front yard. They just looked like orphans themselves, those trees did. It used to make me want to cry just to look at them. I used to say to them, `Oh, you POOR little trees! If you were out in the great big woods with other trees all around you and little mosses and Junebells growing over your roots with a brook not far away, and birds singing in your branches, you would grow, wouldn't you? But you can't where you are. I know just exactly how you feel, little trees.' I even felt sorry to leave them behind this morning as I left the asylum. You do get so attached to things like that, don't you? Is there a brook anywhere near Green Gables? I forgot to ask Mrs. Spencer that." "Well now, yes, there's one right below the house," answered Matthew thoughtfully.
