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148
The Country of the Pointed Firs
·
Sarah Orne Jewett
110
Out
of
the
chattering
crowd
of
noisy
children,
and
large-waisted
women
whose
best
black
dresses
fell
straight
to
the
ground
in
generous
folds,
and
sunburnt
men
who
looked
as
serious
as
if
it
were
town-meeting
day,
there
suddenly
came
silence
and
order.
I
saw
the
straight,
soldierly
little
figure
of
a
man
who
bore
a
fine
resemblance
to
Mrs.
Blackett,
and
who
appeared
to
marshal
us
with
perfect
ease.
He
was
imperative
enough,
but
with
a
grand
military
sort
of
courtesy,
and
bore
himself
with
solemn
dignity
of
importance.
We
were
sorted
out
according
to
some
clear
design
of
his
own,
and
stood
as
speechless
as
a
troop
to
await
his
orders.
Even
the
children
were
ready
to
march
together,
a
pretty
flock,
and
at
the
last
moment
Mrs.
Blackett
and
a
few
distinguished
companions,
the
ministers
and
those
who
were
very
old,
came
out
of
the
house
together
and
took
their
places.
We
ranked
by
fours,
and
even
then
we
made
a
long
procession.
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