The Country of the Pointed Firs by Sarah Orne Jewett (knowledgeable books to read .txt) 📕

We were all moving toward the kitchen as if by common instinct. The best room was too suggestive of serious occasions, and the shades were all pulled down to shut out the summer light and air. It was indeed a tribute to Society to find a room set apart for her behests out there on so apparently neighborless and remote an island. Afternoon visits and evening festivals must be few in such a bleak situation at certain seasons of the year, but Mrs. Blackett was of those who do not live to themselves, and who have long since passed the line that divides mere self-concern from a valued share in whatever Society can give and take. There were those of her neighbors who never had taken the trouble to furnish a best room, but Mrs. Blackett was one who knew the uses of a parlor.

“Yes, do come right out into the old kitchen; I shan’t make any stranger of you,” she invited us pleasantly, after we had been properly received in the room appointed to formality. “I expect Almiry, here, ’ll be driftin’ out ’mongst the pasture-weeds quick’s she can find a good excuse. ’Tis hot now. You’d better content yourselves till you get nice an’ rested, an’ ’long after dinner the sea-breeze’ll spring up, an’ then you can take your walks, an’ go up an’ see the prospect from the big ledge. Almiry’ll want to show off everything there is. Then I’ll get you a good cup o’ tea before you start to go home. The days are plenty long now.”

While we were talking in the best room the selected fish had been mysteriously brought up from the shore, and lay all cleaned and ready in an earthen crock on the table.

“I think William might have just stopped an’ said a word,” remarked Mrs. Todd, pouting with high affront as she caught sight of it. “He’s friendly enough when he comes ashore, an’ was remarkable social the last time, for him.”

“He ain’t disposed to be very social with the ladies,” explained William’s mother, with a delightful glance at me, as if she counted upon my friendship and tolerance. “He’s very particular, and he’s all in his old fishin’-clothes today. He’ll want me to tell him everything you said and done, after you’ve gone. William has very deep affections. He’ll want to see you, Almiry. Yes, I guess he’ll be in by an’ by.”

“I’ll search for him by ’n’ by, if he don’t,” proclaimed Mrs. Todd, with an air of unalterable resolution. “I know all of his burrows down ’long the shore. I’ll catch him by hand ’fore he knows it. I’ve got some business with William, anyway. I brought forty-two cents with me that was due him for them last lobsters he brought in.”

“You can leave it with me,” suggested the little old mother, who was already stepping about among her pots and pans in the pantry, and preparing to make the chowder.

I became possessed of a sudden unwonted curiosity in regard to William, and felt that half the pleasure of my visit would be lost if I could not make his interesting acquaintance.

Mrs. Todd had taken the onion out of her basket and laid it down upon the kitchen table. “There’s Johnny Bowden come with us, you know,” she reminded her mother. “He’ll be hungry enough to eat his size.”

“I’ve got new doughnuts, dear,” said the little old lady. “You don’t often catch William ’n’ me out o’ provisions. I expect you might have chose a somewhat larger fish, but I’ll try an’ make it do. I shall have to have a few extra potatoes, but there’s a field full out there, an’ the hoe’s leanin’ against the well-house, in ’mongst the climbin’-beans.” She smiled and gave her daughter a commanding nod.

“Land sakes alive! Le’s blow the horn for William,” insisted Mrs. Todd, with some excitement. “He needn’t break his spirit so far’s to come in. He’ll know you need him for something particular, an’ then we can call to him as he comes up the path. I won’t put him to no pain.”

Mrs. Blackett’s old face, for the first time, wore a look of trouble, and I found it necessary to counteract the teasing spirit of Almira. It was too pleasant to stay indoors altogether, even in such rewarding companionship; besides, I might meet William; and, straying out presently, I found the hoe by the well-house and an old splint basket at the woodshed door, and also found my way down to the field where there was a great square patch of rough, weedy potato-tops and tall ragweed. One corner was already dug, and I chose a fat-looking hill where the tops were well withered. There is all the pleasure that one can have in gold-digging in finding one’s hopes satisfied in the riches of a good hill of potatoes. I longed to go on; but it did not seem frugal to dig any longer after my basket was full, and at last I took my hoe by the middle and lifted the basket to go back up the hill. I was sure that Mrs. Blackett must be waiting impatiently to slice the potatoes into the chowder, layer after layer, with the fish.

“You let me take holt o’ that basket, ma’am,” said the pleasant, anxious voice behind me.

I turned, startled in the silence of the wide field, and saw an elderly man, bent in the shoulders as fishermen often are, gray-headed and clean-shaven, and with a timid air. It was William. He looked just like his mother, and I had been imagining that he was large and stout like his sister, Almira Todd; and, strange to say, my fancy had led me to picture him not far from thirty and a little loutish. It was necessary instead to pay William the respect due to age.

I accustomed myself to plain facts on the instant, and we said good morning like old friends. The basket