Adapted from Anne of Green Gables by Lucy Maud Montgomery

"Oh, Mr. Cuthbert," Anne whispered, "that place we came through—that white place—what was it?"
"Well now, you must mean the Avenue," said Matthew after a few moments' profound reflection. "It is a kind of pretty place."
"Pretty? Oh, PRETTY doesn't seem the right word to use. Nor beautiful, either. They don't go far enough. Oh, it was wonderful—wonderful. It just satisfies me here"—she put one hand over her heart—"it made a funny ache and yet it was a pleasant ache. Did you ever have an ache like that, Mr. Cuthbert?"
"Well now, I just can't recollect that I ever had."
"I have it lots of time—whenever I see anything royally beautiful. But they shouldn't call that lovely place the Avenue. There is no meaning in a name like that. They should call it—let me see—the White Way of Delight. Isn't that a nice imaginative name? When I don't like the name of a place or a person I always imagine a new one and always think of them so."
They had driven over the crest of a hill. Below them was a pond, looking almost like a river so long and winding was it.
"That's Barry's pond," said Matthew.
"Oh, I don't like that name, either. I shall call it—let me see—the Lake of Shining Waters. But why do other people call it Barry's pond?"
"I reckon because Mr. Barry lives up there in that house. Orchard Slope's the name of his place."
"Has Mr. Barry any little girls? Well, not so very little either—about my size."
"He's got one about eleven. Her name is Diana."
"Oh! What a perfectly lovely name!"
"Well now, I dunno. There's something dreadful heathenish about it, seems to me. I'd ruther Jane or Mary or some sensible name like that."
When they had driven up the further hill and around a corner Matthew said, "We're pretty near home now. That's Green Gables over—"
"Oh, don't tell me," she interrupted breathlessly, catching at his partially raised arm and shutting her eyes that she might not see his gesture. "Let me guess. I'm sure I'll guess right."
She opened her eyes and looked about her. They were on the crest of a hill. The sun had set some time since, but the landscape was still clear in the mellow afterlight.
"That's it, isn't it?" she said, pointing.
Matthew slapped the reins on the sorrel's back delightedly.
"Well now, you've guessed it! But I reckon Mrs. Spencer described it so's you could tell."
"No, she didn't—really she didn't. All she said might just as well have been about most of those other places. I hadn't any real idea what it looked like. But just as soon as I saw it I felt it was home. Oh, it seems as if I must be in a dream."
With a sigh of rapture she relapsed into silence. Matthew stirred uneasily. He felt glad that it would be Marilla and not he who would have to tell this waif of the world that the home she longed for was not to be hers after all.
The yard was quite dark as they turned into it and the poplar leaves were rustling silkily all round it.
"Listen to the trees talking in their sleep," she whispered, as he lifted her to the ground. "What nice dreams they must have!"
Then, holding tightly to the carpet-bag which contained "all her worldly goods," she followed him into the house.

In which two ways would the story be different if it were told from the point of view of Anne?
The reader would know what Anne looks like.
The reader would know more about Mr. Barry and his daughter, Diana.
The reader would know why Anne thinks Green Gables is to be her home.
The reader would know Anne's opinion of Matthew.
The reader would know who Marilla is.