Mrs. Rachel Lynde is Surprised Mrs. Rachel Lynde lived where the Avonlea main road dipped down into a valley where it was crossed by a brook. This brook started as a fast flowing brook but by the time it reached Mrs. Rachel Lynde's house, it was quiet. Not even a brook could run past Mrs. Rachel Lynde's door without due regard for decency and good behaviour. The brook probably knew that Mrs. Rachel was sitting at her window, watching everything that passed, including brooks and children. If she noticed anything odd or out of place she would surely find out why.
There are plenty of people in Avonlea who concern themselves about their neighbor's business but neglect their own. Mrs. Rachel Lynde was one of those capable people who can manage their own concerns and those of other folks at the same time. She was a capable housewife. Her work was always done and well done. She "ran" the Sewing Circle, helped run the Sunday-school, and was the strongest supporter of the Church Aid Society and Foreign Missions Auxiliary. Still, Mrs. Rachel found plenty of time to sit for hours at her kitchen window, knitting while keeping a sharp eye on the main road.
Since Avonlea was on a little piece of land jutting out into the Gulf of St. Lawrence, with water on two sides of it, anybody who passed by had to pass over that hill road where they would be seen by Mrs. Rachel's all-seeing eye. She was sitting there one afternoon in early June. The sun was coming in at the window warm and bright. The orchard on the slope below the house was in pinky-white bloom, hummed over by bees. Thomas Lynde - a meek little man whom Avonlea people called "Rachel Lynde's husband" - was sowing his late turnip seed on the hill field beyond the barn. Matthew Cuthbert ought to have been sowing his seed on the big red brook field over by Green Gables. Mrs. Rachel had heard him tell Peter Morrison the evening before in William J. Blair's store over at Carmody that he meant to sow his turnip seed the next afternoon. Peter had asked him, of course, for Matthew Cuthbert had never been known to volunteer information about anything in his whole life.
And yet here was Matthew Cuthbert, at half-past three on the afternoon of a busy day, placidly driving over the hollow and up the hill, dressed in a white collar and his best suit of clothes, which was plain proof that he was going out of Avonlea. He had the buggy and the sorrel mare which further indicated that he was most likely going a considerable distance. Now, where was Matthew Cuthbert going and why was he going there?
Had it been any other man in Avonlea, Mrs. Rachel might have given a pretty good guess as to the answer of both of these questions. But Matthew so rarely left his home that it must be something pressing and unusual which was taking him. Matthew Cuthbert was quite possibly the shyest man alive and hated to have to go to strangers or to any place where he might have to talk. Indeed, Matthew dressed up with a white collar and driving in a buggy was something that didn't happen often. Ponder as she might, Mrs. Rachel Lynde could make nothing of Matthew Cuthbert's peculiar behaviour and as a result, her afternoon's enjoyment was spoiled.
