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148
The Country of the Pointed Firs
·
Sarah Orne Jewett
17
I
smiled,
and
waited
for
him
to
go
on.
“I
am
an
old
man,
as
you
can
see,”
he
continued,
“and
I
have
been
a
shipmaster
the
greater
part
of
my
life,--forty-three
years
in
all.
You
may
not
think
it,
but
I
am
above
eighty
years
of
age.”
He
did
not
look
so
old,
and
I
hastened
to
say
so.
“You
must
have
left
the
sea
a
good
many
years
ago,
then,
Captain
Littlepage?”
I
said.
“I
should
have
been
serviceable
at
least
five
or
six
years
more,”
he
answered.
“My
acquaintance
with
certain--my
experience
upon
a
certain
occasion,
I
might
say,
gave
rise
to
prejudice.
I
do
not
mind
telling
you
that
I
chanced
to
learn
of
one
of
the
greatest
discoveries
that
man
has
ever
made.”
Now
we
were
approaching
dangerous
ground,
but
a
sudden
sense
of
his
sufferings
at
the
hands
of
the
ignorant
came
to
my
help,
and
I
asked
to
hear
more
with
all
the
deference
I
really
felt.
A
swallow
flew
into
the
schoolhouse
at
this
moment
as
if
a
kingbird
were
after
it,
and
beat
itself
against
the
walls
for
a
minute,
and
escaped
again
to
the
open
air;
but
Captain
Littlepage
took
no
notice
whatever
of
the
flurry.
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