Before Mrs. Rachel had even closed the door behind her, she had taken a mental note of everything that was on the table. There were three plates laid, so Marilla must be expecting someone home with Matthew for tea. However, the dishes were everyday dishes and there was only crab-apple preserves and one kind of cake, so that the expected company could not be any of anyone particularly special Yet why had Matthew worn his white collar and taken the sorrel mare? Mrs. Rachel was getting dizzy thinking about this unusual mystery surrounding the normally quiet and very unmysterious Green Gables.
"Good evening, Rachel," Marilla said briskly. "This is a real fine evening, isn't it" Won't you sit down? How are all your folks?" Something that for lack of any other name might be called friendship had always existed between Marilla Cuthbert and Mrs. Rachel, in spite of, or perhaps because of, their dissimilarity.
Marilla was a tall, thin woman, with angles and without curves. Her dark hair showed some gray streaks and was always twisted up in a hard little knot at the back of her head with two wire hairpins stuck aggressively through it. She looked like a woman of narrow experience and rigid conscience, which she was; yet there was also something about Marilla that made one believe there may be a sense of humour lurking somewhere underneath.
"We're all pretty well," said Mrs. Rachel. "I was kind of afraid YOU weren't, though, when I saw Matthew starting off today. I thought maybe he was going to the doctor's." Marilla's lips twitched understandingly. She had expected Mrs. Rachel to come poking around; she had known that the sight of Matthew jaunting off so unaccountably would be too much for her neighbor's curiosity. "Oh, no, I'm quite well although I had a bad headache yesterday," she said. "Matthew went to Bright River. We're getting a little boy from an orphanage in Nova Scotia and he's coming on the train tonight." If Marilla had said that Matthew had gone to Bright River to meet a kangaroo from Australia Mrs. Rachel could not have been more surprised. She was actually speechless for five seconds. It was possible that Marilla was making fun of her, but Mrs. Rachel was almost forced to believe it.
"Are you serious Marilla?" she demanded when her voice returned to her.
"Yes, of course," said Marilla, as if getting boys from orphanages in Nova Scotia was part of the usual spring work on any Avonlea farm instead of being a completely out of the ordinary occurance. Mrs. Rachel felt that she had received a severe mental jolt.
A boy! Marilla and Matthew Cuthbert of all people adopting a boy! From an orphanage! The world was certainly turning upside down! She would be surprised at nothing after this! Nothing!
"What on earth put such a notion into your head?" she demanded disapprovingly. This adoption had been done without Rachel's advice being asked, and felt she must certainly have her disapproval recognized.
