Since Avonlea occupied a little triangular peninsula jutting out into the Gulf of St. Lawrence with water on two sides of it , anybody who went out of it or into it had to pass over that hill road and so run the unseen gauntlet of 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 a bridal flush of pinky-white bloom , hummed over by a myriad of 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 ; and Matthew Cuthbert ought to have been sowing his on the big red brook field away over by Green Gables . Mrs. Rachel knew that he ought because she 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 ; moreover , he wore a white collar and his best suit of clothes , which was plain proof that he was going out of Avonlea ; and he had the buggy and the sorrel mare , which betokened that he was 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 , deftly putting this and that together , might have given a pretty good guess as to both questions . But Matthew so rarely went from home that it must be something pressing and unusual which was taking him ; he was the shyest man alive and hated to have to go among strangers or to any place where he might have to talk . Matthew , dressed up with a white collar and driving in a buggy , was something that did n't happen often . Mrs. Rachel , ponder as she might , could make nothing of it and her afternoon 's enjoyment was spoiled . `` I 'll just step over to Green Gables after tea and find out from Marilla where he 's gone and why , '' the worthy woman finally concluded . `` He does n't generally go to town this time of year and he NEVER visits ; if he 'd run out of turnip seed he would n't dress up and take the buggy to go for more ; he was n't driving fast enough to be going for a doctor . Yet something must have happened since last night to start him off . I 'm clean puzzled , that 's what , and I wo n't know a minute 's peace of mind or conscience until I know what has taken Matthew Cuthbert out of Avonlea today . '' Accordingly after tea Mrs. Rachel set out ; she had not far to go ; the big , rambling , orchard-embowered house where the Cuthberts lived was a scant quarter of a mile up the road from Lynde 's Hollow . To be sure , the long lane made it a good deal further . Matthew Cuthbert 's father , as shy and silent as his son after him , had got as far away as he possibly could from his fellow men without actually retreating into the woods when he founded his homestead . Green Gables was built at the furthest edge of his cleared land and there it was to this day , barely visible from the main road along which all the other Avonlea houses were so sociably situated .
Mrs. Rachel Lynde did not call living in such a place LIVING XXXXX all .
To as at because beyond for from in until up