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148
The Country of the Pointed Firs
·
Sarah Orne Jewett
125
“They
must
have
stopped
to
tea
somewheres
and
thought
they'd
finish
up
the
day,”
said
Mrs.
Todd.
“Those
that
enjoyed
it
best'll
want
to
get
right
home
so's
to
think
it
over.”
“I
didn't
see
the
woman
there
after
all,
did
you?”
asked
Mrs.
Blackett
as
the
horse
stopped
to
drink
at
the
trough.
“Oh
yes,
I
spoke
with
her,”
answered
Mrs.
Todd,
with
but
scant
interest
or
approval.
“She
ain't
a
member
o'
our
family.”
“I
thought
you
said
she
resembled
Cousin
Pa'lina
Bowden
about
the
forehead,”
suggested
Mrs.
Blackett.
“Well,
she
don't,”
answered
Mrs.
Todd
impatiently.
“I
ain't
one
that's
ord'narily
mistaken
about
family
likenesses,
and
she
didn't
seem
to
meet
with
friends,
so
I
went
square
up
to
her.
'I
expect
you're
a
Bowden
by
your
looks,'
says
I.
'Yes,
I
can
take
it
you're
one
o'
the
Bowdens.'
'Lor',
no,'
says
she.
'Dennett
was
my
maiden
name,
but
I
married
a
Bowden
for
my
first
husband.
I
thought
I'd
come
an'
just
see
what
was
a-goin'
on!”
Mrs.
Blackett
laughed
heartily.
“I'm
goin'
to
remember
to
tell
William
o'
that,”
she
said.
“There,
Almiry,
the
only
thing
that's
troubled
me
all
this
day
is
to
think
how
William
would
have
enjoyed
it.
I
do
so
wish
William
had
been
there.”
“I
sort
of
wish
he
had,
myself,”
said
Mrs.
Todd
frankly.
“There
wa'n't
many
old
folks
there,
somehow,”
said
Mrs.
Blackett,
with
a
touch
of
sadness
in
her
voice.
“There
ain't
so
many
to
come
as
there
used
to
be,
I'm
aware,
but
I
expected
to
see
more.”
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