The Country of the Pointed Firs Sarah Orne Jewett (bill gates best books TXT) đ
- Author: Sarah Orne Jewett
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âHeâs got too many long routes now to stop to âtend to all his door patients,â she said, âespecially them that takes pleasure in talkinâ themselves over. The doctor and me have got to be kind of partners; heâs gone a good deal, far anâ wide. Looked tired, didnât he? I shall have to advise with him anâ get him off for a good rest. Heâll take the big boat from Rockland anâ go off up to Boston anâ mouse round among the other doctors, one in two or three years, and come home fresh as a boy. I guess they think considerâble of him up there.â Mrs. Todd shook the reins and reached determinedly for the whip, as if she were compelling public opinion.
Whatever energy and spirit the white horse had to begin with were soon exhausted by the steep hills and his discernment of a long expedition ahead. We toiled slowly along. Mrs. Blackett and I sat together, and Mrs. Todd sat alone in front with much majesty and the large basket of provisions. Part of the way the road was shaded by thick woods, but we also passed one farmhouse after another on the high uplands, which we all three regarded with deep interest, the house itself and the barns and garden-spots and poultry all having to suffer an inspection of the shrewdest sort. This was a highway quite new to me; in fact, most of my journeys with Mrs. Todd had been made afoot and between the roads, in open pasturelands. My friends stopped several times for brief dooryard visits, and made so many promises of stopping again on the way home that I began to wonder how long the expedition would last. I had often noticed how warmly Mrs. Todd was greeted by her friends, but it was hardly to be compared with the feeling now shown toward Mrs. Blackett. A look of delight came to the faces of those who recognized the plain, dear old figure beside me; one revelation after another was made of the constant interest and intercourse that had linked the far island and these scattered farms into a golden chain of love and dependence.
âNow, we mustnât stop again if we can help it,â insisted Mrs. Todd at last. âYouâll get tired, mother, and youâll think the less oâ reunions. We can visit along here any day. There, if they ainât frying doughnuts in this next house, too! These are new folks, you know, from over St. George way; they took this old Talcot farm last year. âTis the best water on the road, and the checkreinâs come undoneâ âyes, weâd best delay a little and water the horse.â
We stopped, and seeing a party of pleasure-seekers in holiday attire, the thin, anxious mistress of the farmhouse came out with wistful sympathy to hear what news we might have to give. Mrs. Blackett first spied her at the half-closed door, and asked with such cheerful directness if we were trespassing that, after a few words, she went back to her kitchen and reappeared with a plateful of doughnuts.
âEntertainment for man and beast,â announced Mrs. Todd with satisfaction. âWhy, weâve perceived there was new doughnuts all along the road, but youâre the first that has treated us.â
Our new acquaintance flushed with pleasure, but said nothing.
âTheyâre very nice; youâve had good luck with âem,â pronounced Mrs. Todd. âYes, weâve observed there was doughnuts all the way along; if one house is frying all the rest is; âtis so with a great many things.â
âI donât suppose likely youâre goinâ up to the Bowden reunion?â asked the hostess as the white horse lifted his head and we were saying goodbye.
âWhy, yes,â said Mrs. Blackett and Mrs. Todd and I, all together.
âI am connected with the family. Yes, I expect to be there this afternoon. Iâve been lookinâ forward to it,â she told us eagerly.
âWe shall see you there. Come and sit with us if itâs convenient,â said dear Mrs. Blackett, and we drove away.
âI wonder who she was before she was married?â said Mrs. Todd, who was usually unerring in matters of genealogy. âShe must have been one of that remote branch that lived down beyond Thomaston. We can find out this afternoon. I expect that the familiesâll march together, or be sorted out some way. Iâm willing to own a relation that has such proper ideas of doughnuts.â
âI seem to see the family looks,â said Mrs. Blackett. âI wish weâd asked her name. Sheâs a stranger, and I want to help make it pleasant for all such.â
âShe resembles Cousin Paâlina Bowden about the forehead,â said Mrs. Todd with decision.
We had just passed a piece of woodland that shaded the road, and come out to some open fields beyond, when Mrs. Todd suddenly reined in the horse as if somebody had stood on the roadside and stopped her. She even gave that quick reassuring nod of her head which was usually made to answer for a bow, but I discovered that she was looking eagerly at a tall ash-tree that grew just inside the field fence.
âI thought âtwas goinâ to do well,â she said complacently as we went on again. âLast time I was up this way that tree was kind of drooping and discouraged. Grown trees act that way sometimes, sameâs folks; then theyâll put right to it and strike their roots off into new ground and start all over again with real good courage. Ash-trees is very likely to have poor spells; they ainât got the resolution of other trees.â
I listened hopefully for more; it was this peculiar wisdom that made one value Mrs. Toddâs pleasant company.
âThereâs sometimes a good hearty tree growinâ right out of the bare rock, out oâ some crack that just holds the roots;â she went on to say, âright on the pitch oâ one oâ them bare stony hills where you canât seem to see a wheel-barrowful oâ good earth in a place, but that treeâll keep a green top in the driest summer. You lay your ear down to the ground anâ youâll hear a
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