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148
The Country of the Pointed Firs
·
Sarah Orne Jewett
30
He
rose
with
dignity
to
take
leave,
and
asked
me
to
stop
at
his
house
some
day,
when
he
would
show
me
some
outlandish
things
that
he
had
brought
home
from
sea.
I
was
familiar
with
the
subject
of
the
decadence
of
shipping
interests
in
all
its
affecting
branches,
having
been
already
some
time
in
Dunnet,
and
I
felt
sure
that
Captain
Littlepage's
mind
had
now
returned
to
a
safe
level.
As
we
came
down
the
hill
toward
the
village
our
ways
divided,
and
when
I
had
seen
the
old
captain
well
started
on
a
smooth
piece
of
sidewalk
which
would
lead
him
to
his
own
door,
we
parted,
the
best
of
friends.
“Step
in
some
afternoon,”
he
said,
as
affectionately
as
if
I
were
a
fellow-shipmaster
wrecked
on
the
lee
shore
of
age
like
himself.
I
turned
toward
home,
and
presently
met
Mrs.
Todd
coming
toward
me
with
an
anxious
expression.
“I
see
you
sleevin'
the
old
gentleman
down
the
hill,”
she
suggested.
“Yes.
I've
had
a
very
interesting
afternoon
with
him,”
I
answered,
and
her
face
brightened.
“Oh,
then
he's
all
right.
I
was
afraid
'twas
one
o'
his
flighty
spells,
an'
Mari'
Harris
wouldn't”--
“Yes,”
I
returned,
smiling,
“he
has
been
telling
me
some
old
stories,
but
we
talked
about
Mrs.
Begg
and
the
funeral
beside,
and
Paradise
Lost.”
“I
expect
he
got
tellin'
of
you
some
o'
his
great
narratives,”
she
answered,
looking
at
me
shrewdly.
“Funerals
always
sets
him
goin'.
Some
o'
them
tales
hangs
together
toler'ble
well,”
she
added,
with
a
sharper
look
than
before.
“An'
he's
been
a
great
reader
all
his
seafarin'
days.
Some
thinks
he
overdid,
and
affected
his
head,
but
for
a
man
o'
his
years
he's
amazin'
now
when
he's
at
his
best.
Oh,
he
used
to
be
a
beautiful
man!”
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