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148
The Country of the Pointed Firs
·
Sarah Orne Jewett
117
“I'm
one
that
always
dreads
seeing
some
o'
the
folks
that
I
don't
like,
at
such
a
time
as
this,”
announced
Mrs.
Todd
privately
to
me
after
a
season
of
reflection.
We
were
just
waiting
for
the
feast
to
begin.
“You
wouldn't
think
such
a
great
creatur'
's
I
be
could
feel
all
over
pins
an'
needles.
I
remember,
the
day
I
promised
to
Nathan,
how
it
come
over
me,
just's
I
was
feelin'
happy's
I
could,
that
I'd
got
to
have
an
own
cousin
o'
his
for
my
near
relation
all
the
rest
o'
my
life,
an'
it
seemed
as
if
die
I
should.
Poor
Nathan
saw
somethin'
had
crossed
me,--he
had
very
nice
feelings,--and
when
he
asked
what
'twas,
I
told
him.
'I
never
could
like
her
myself,'
said
he.
'You
sha'n't
be
bothered,
dear,'
he
says;
an'
'twas
one
o'
the
things
that
made
me
set
a
good
deal
by
Nathan,
he
did
not
make
a
habit
of
always
opposin',
like
some
men.
'Yes,'
says
I,
'but
think
o'
Thanksgivin'
times
an'
funerals;
she's
our
relation,
an'
we've
got
to
own
her.'
Young
folks
don't
think
o'
those
things.
There
she
goes
now,
do
let's
pray
her
by!”
said
Mrs.
Todd,
with
an
alarming
transition
from
general
opinions
to
particular
animosities.
“I
hate
her
just
the
same
as
I
always
did;
but
she's
got
on
a
real
pretty
dress.
I
do
try
to
remember
that
she's
Nathan's
cousin.
Oh
dear,
well;
she's
gone
by
after
all,
an'
ain't
seen
me.
I
expected
she'd
come
pleasantin'
round
just
to
show
off
an'
say
afterwards
she
was
acquainted.”
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