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

might have known. ’Tis the 15th o’ August with him, an’ he gener’ly stops to dinner with a cousin’s widow on the way home. Feb’uary n’ August is the times. Takes him ’bout all day to go an’ come.”

I heard this explanation with interest. The tone of Mrs. Todd’s voice was complaining at the last.

“I like the grocery just as well as the chaise,” I hastened to say, referring to a long-bodied high wagon with a canopy-top, like an attenuated four-posted bedstead on wheels, in which we sometimes journeyed. “We can put things in behind⁠—roots and flowers and raspberries, or anything you are going after⁠—much better than if we had the chaise.”

Mrs. Todd looked stony and unwilling. “I counted upon the chaise,” she said, turning her back to me, and roughly pushing back all the quiet tumblers on the cupboard shelf as if they had been impertinent. “Yes, I desired the chaise for once. I ain’t goin’ berryin’ nor to fetch home no more wilted vegetation this year. Season’s about past, except for a poor few o’ late things,” she added in a milder tone. “I’m goin’ up country. No, I ain’t intendin’ to go berryin’. I’ve been plottin’ for it the past fortnight and hopin’ for a good day.”

“Would you like to have me go too?” I asked frankly, but not without a humble fear that I might have mistaken the purpose of this latest plan.

“Oh certain, dear!” answered my friend affectionately. “Oh no, I never thought o’ anyone else for comp’ny, if it’s convenient for you, long’s poor mother ain’t come. I ain’t nothin’ like so handy with a conveyance as I be with a good bo’t. Comes o’ my early bringing-up. I expect we’ve got to make that great high wagon do. The tires want settin’ and ’tis all loose-jointed, so I can hear it shackle the other side o’ the ridge. We’ll put the basket in front. I ain’t goin’ to have it bouncin’ an’ twirlin’ all the way. Why, I’ve been makin’ some nice hearts and rounds to carry.”

These were signs of high festivity, and my interest deepened moment by moment.

“I’ll go down to the Beggs’ and get the horse just as soon as I finish my breakfast,” said I. “Then we can start whenever you are ready.”

Mrs. Todd looked cloudy again. “I don’t know but you look nice enough to go just as you be,” she suggested doubtfully. “No, you wouldn’t want to wear that pretty blue dress o’ yourn ’way up country. ’Taint dusty now, but it may be comin’ home. No, I expect you’d rather not wear that and the other hat.”

“Oh yes. I shouldn’t think of wearing these clothes,” said I, with sudden illumination. “Why, if we’re going up country and are likely to see some of your friends, I’ll put on my blue dress, and you must wear your watch; I am not going at all if you mean to wear the big hat.”

“Now you’re behavin’ pretty,” responded Mrs. Todd, with a gay toss of her head and a cheerful smile, as she came across the room, bringing a saucerful of wild raspberries, a pretty piece of salvage from suppertime. “I was cast down when I see you come to breakfast. I didn’t think ’twas just what you’d select to wear to the reunion, where you’re goin’ to meet everybody.”

“What reunion do you mean?” I asked, not without amazement. “Not the Bowden Family’s? I thought that was going to take place in September.”

“Today’s the day. They sent word the middle o’ the week. I thought you might have heard of it. Yes, they changed the day. I been thinkin’ we’d talk it over, but you never can tell beforehand how it’s goin’ to be, and ’taint worth while to wear a day all out before it comes.” Mrs. Todd gave no place to the pleasures of anticipation, but she spoke like the oracle that she was. “I wish mother was here to go,” she continued sadly. “I did look for her last night, and I couldn’t keep back the tears when the dark really fell and she wa’n’t here, she does so enjoy a great occasion. If William had a mite o’ snap an’ ambition, he’d take the lead at such a time. Mother likes variety, and there ain’t but a few nice opportunities ’round here, an’ them she has to miss ’less she contrives to get ashore to me. I do re’lly hate to go to the reunion without mother, an’ ’tis a beautiful day; everybody’ll be asking where she is. Once she’d have got here anyway. Poor mother’s beginnin’ to feel her age.”

“Why, there’s your mother now!” I exclaimed with joy, I was so glad to see the dear old soul again. “I hear her voice at the gate.” But Mrs. Todd was out of the door before me.

There, sure enough, stood Mrs. Blackett, who must have left Green Island before daylight. She had climbed the steep road from the waterside so eagerly that she was out of breath, and was standing by the garden fence to rest. She held an old-fashioned brown wicker cap-basket in her hand, as if visiting were a thing of every day, and looked up at us as pleased and triumphant as a child.

“Oh, what a poor, plain garden! Hardly a flower in it except your bush o’ balm!” she said. “But you do keep your garden neat, Almiry. Are you both well, an’ goin’ up country with me?” She came a step or two closer to meet us, with quaint politeness and quite as delightful as if she were at home. She dropped a quick little curtsey before Mrs. Todd.

“There, mother, what a girl you be! I am so pleased! I was just bewailin’ you,” said the daughter, with unwonted feeling. “I was just bewailin’ you, I was so disappointed, an’ I kep’ myself awake a good piece o’ the night scoldin’ poor William. I watched for the boat till I was ready to shed tears yisterday, and when ’twas