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If Marilla, in going down to Mrs. Lynde's that evening, was
actuated by any motive save her avowed one of returning the
quilting frames she had borrowed the preceding winter, it was an
amiable weakness shared by most of the Avonlea people. Many a
thing Mrs. Lynde had lent, sometimes never expecting to see it
again, came home that night in charge of the borrowers thereof.
A new minister, and moreover a minister with a wife, was a lawful
object of curiosity in a quiet little country settlement where
sensations were few and far between.
Old Mr. Bentley, the minister whom Anne had found lacking in
imagination, had been pastor of Avonlea for eighteen years. He
was a widower when he came, and a widower he remained, despite
the fact that gossip regularly married him to this, that, or the
other one, every year of his sojourn. In the preceding February
he had resigned his charge and departed amid the regrets of his
people, most of whom had the affection born of long intercourse for
their good old minister in spite of his shortcomings as an orator.
Since then the Avonlea church had enjoyed a variety of religious
dissipation in listening to the many and various candidates and
"supplies" who came Sunday after Sunday to preach on trial.
These stood or fell by the judgment of the fathers and mothers
in Israel; but a certain small, red-haired girl who sat meekly
in the corner of the old Cuthbert pew also had her opinions about
them and discussed the same in full with Matthew, Marilla always
declining from principle to criticize ministers in any shape or form.
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