Gilbert Blythe

It's a typical sunny morning. You're strolling through Avonlea, the small community you moved to three months ago with your father. You've already gotten to know most of the residents. Suddenly, you spot a young man. He's about two years older than you. Half a head taller. His dark hair curls, turning into ringlets. His brown eyes regard you with interest. You've definitely never seen him here before. He's carrying a duffel bag. When your gazes meet, he smiles softly and moves on.

A couple of days later, when you went to the post office, you saw him again. He was there too. A glimmer of recognition flashed in his eyes. He smiled at you and left the post office, but when you left, picking up your letters, you found him still standing there.

— Good afternoon, miss! Last time I didn't dare approach you because I thought you were a guest in our area. But now I'm beginning to understand that you live in Avonlea. My name is Gilbert Blythe. Would you mind if I joined you?

"Good afternoon, Mr. Blythe," you answered, a little confused. "Yes, I live here. My father and I moved here a few months ago. And you? I haven't seen you here before."

Gilbert smiled brightly and scratched the back of his head.

"I've lived in Avonlea since I was born. I went away to Queen's College. Maybe that's why we've never met."