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148
The Country of the Pointed Firs
·
Sarah Orne Jewett
33
VIII.
Green
Island
ONE
MORNING,
very
early,
I
heard
Mrs.
Todd
in
the
garden
outside
my
window.
By
the
unusual
loudness
of
her
remarks
to
a
passer-by,
and
the
notes
of
a
familiar
hymn
which
she
sang
as
she
worked
among
the
herbs,
and
which
came
as
if
directed
purposely
to
the
sleepy
ears
of
my
consciousness,
I
knew
that
she
wished
I
would
wake
up
and
come
and
speak
to
her.
In
a
few
minutes
she
responded
to
a
morning
voice
from
behind
the
blinds.
“I
expect
you're
goin'
up
to
your
schoolhouse
to
pass
all
this
pleasant
day;
yes,
I
expect
you're
goin'
to
be
dreadful
busy,”
she
said
despairingly.
“Perhaps
not,”
said
I.
“Why,
what's
going
to
be
the
matter
with
you,
Mrs.
Todd?”
For
I
supposed
that
she
was
tempted
by
the
fine
weather
to
take
one
of
her
favorite
expeditions
along
the
shore
pastures
to
gather
herbs
and
simples,
and
would
like
to
have
me
keep
the
house.
“No,
I
don't
want
to
go
nowhere
by
land,”
she
answered
gayly,--“no,
not
by
land;
but
I
don't
know's
we
shall
have
a
better
day
all
the
rest
of
the
summer
to
go
out
to
Green
Island
an'
see
mother.
I
waked
up
early
thinkin'
of
her.
The
wind's
light
northeast,--'twill
take
us
right
straight
out,
an'
this
time
o'
year
it's
liable
to
change
round
southwest
an'
fetch
us
home
pretty,
'long
late
in
the
afternoon.
Yes,
it's
goin'
to
be
a
good
day.”
“Speak
to
the
captain
and
the
Bowden
boy,
if
you
see
anybody
going
by
toward
the
landing,”
said
I.
“We'll
take
the
big
boat.”
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