The Country of the Pointed Firs Sarah Orne Jewett (bill gates best books TXT) đ
- Author: Sarah Orne Jewett
Book online «The Country of the Pointed Firs Sarah Orne Jewett (bill gates best books TXT) đ». Author Sarah Orne Jewett
I went up the field, following the smooth little path to the side door. As for using the front door, that was a matter of great ceremony; the long grass grew close against the high stone step, and a snowberry bush leaned over it, top-heavy with the weight of a morning-glory vine that had managed to take what the fishermen might call a half hitch about the doorknob. Elijah Tilley came to the side door to receive me; he was knitting a blue yarn stocking without looking on, and was warmly dressed for the season in a thick blue flannel shirt with white crockery buttons, a faded waistcoat and trousers heavily patched at the knees. These were not his fishing clothes. There was something delightful in the grasp of his hand, warm and clean, as if it never touched anything but the comfortable woolen yarn, instead of cold sea water and slippery fish.
âWhat are the painted stakes for, down in the field?â I hastened to ask, and he came out a step or two along the path to see; and looked at the stakes as if his attention were called to them for the first time.
âFolks laughed at me when I first bought this place anâ come here to live,â he explained. âThey said âtwaânât no kind of a field privilege at all; no place to raise anything, all full oâ stones. I was aware âtwas good land, anâ I worked some on itâ âodd times when I didnât have nothinâ else on handâ âtill I cleared them loose stones all out. You never see a prettier piece than âtis now; now did ye? Well, as for them painted marks, themâs my buoys. I struck on to some heavy rocks that didnât show none, but a plowâd be liable to ground on âem, anâ so I ketched holt anâ buoyed âem sameâs you see. They donât trouble me no moreân if they waânât there.â
âYou havenât been to sea for nothing,â I said laughing.
âOne trade helps another,â said Elijah with an amiable smile. âCome right in anâ set down. Come in anâ rest ye,â he exclaimed, and led the way into his comfortable kitchen. The sunshine poured in at the two further windows, and a cat was curled up sound asleep on the table that stood between them. There was a new-looking light oilcloth of a tiled pattern on the floor, and a crockery teapot, large for a household of only one person, stood on the bright stove. I ventured to say that somebody must be a very good housekeeper.
âThatâs me,â acknowledged the old fisherman with frankness. âThere ainât nobody here but me. I try to keep things looking right, sameâs poor dear left âem. You set down here in this chair, then you can look off anâ see the water. None on âem thought I was goinâ to get along alone, no way, but I waânât goinâ to have my house turned upsiâ down anâ all changed about; no, not to please nobody. I was the only one knew just how she liked to have things set, poor dear, anâ I said I was goinâ to make shift, and I have made shift. Iâd rather tough it out alone.â And he sighed heavily, as if to sigh were his familiar consolation.
We were both silent for a minute; the old man looked out the window, as if he had forgotten I was there.
âYou must miss her very much?â I said at last.
âI do miss her,â he answered, and sighed again. âFolks all kepâ repeatinâ that time would ease me, but I canât find it does. No, I miss her just the same every day.â
âHow long is it since she died?â I asked.
âEight year now, come the first of October. It donât seem near so long. Iâve got a sister that comes and stops âlong oâ me a little spell, spring anâ fall, anâ odd times if I send after her. I ainât near so good a hand to sew as I be to knit, and sheâs very quick to set everything to rights. Sheâs a married woman with a family; her sonâs folks lives at home, anâ I canât make no great claim on her time. But it makes me a kind oâ good excuse, when I do send, to help her a little; she ainât none too well off. Poor dear always liked her, and we used to contrive our ways together. âTis full as easy to be alone. I set here anâ think it all over, anâ think considerable when the weatherâs bad to go outside. I get so some days it feels as if poor dear might step right back into this kitchen. I keep a-watchinâ them doors as if she might step in to ary one. Yes, maâam, I keep a-lookinâ off anâ droppinâ oâ my stitches; thatâs just how it seems. I canât git over losinâ of her no way nor no how. Yes, maâam, thatâs just how it seems to me.â
I did not say anything, and he did not look up.
âI git feelinâ so sometimes I have to lay everything by anâ go out door. She was a sweet pretty creaturâ longâs she lived,â the old man added mournfully. âThereâs that little rockinâ chair oâ herân, I set anâ notice it anâ think how strange âtis a creaturâ like her should be gone anâ that chair be here right in its old place.â
âI wish I had known her; Mrs. Todd told me about your wife one day,â I said.
âYouâd have liked to come and see her; all the folks did,â said poor Elijah. âSheâd been so pleased to hear everything and see somebody new that took such an intârest. She had a kind
Comments (0)