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148
The Country of the Pointed Firs
·
Sarah Orne Jewett
44
“Yes,
do
come
right
out
into
the
old
kitchen;
I
shan't
make
any
stranger
of
you,”
she
invited
us
pleasantly,
after
we
had
been
properly
received
in
the
room
appointed
to
formality.
“I
expect
Almiry,
here,
'll
be
driftin'
out
'mongst
the
pasture-weeds
quick's
she
can
find
a
good
excuse.
'Tis
hot
now.
You'd
better
content
yourselves
till
you
get
nice
an'
rested,
an'
'long
after
dinner
the
sea-breeze
'll
spring
up,
an'
then
you
can
take
your
walks,
an'
go
up
an'
see
the
prospect
from
the
big
ledge.
Almiry'll
want
to
show
off
everything
there
is.
Then
I'll
get
you
a
good
cup
o'
tea
before
you
start
to
go
home.
The
days
are
plenty
long
now.”
While
we
were
talking
in
the
best
room
the
selected
fish
had
been
mysteriously
brought
up
from
the
shore,
and
lay
all
cleaned
and
ready
in
an
earthen
crock
on
the
table.
“I
think
William
might
have
just
stopped
an'
said
a
word,”
remarked
Mrs.
Todd,
pouting
with
high
affront
as
she
caught
sight
of
it.
“He's
friendly
enough
when
he
comes
ashore,
an'
was
remarkable
social
the
last
time,
for
him.”
“He
ain't
disposed
to
be
very
social
with
the
ladies,”
explained
William's
mother,
with
a
delightful
glance
at
me,
as
if
she
counted
upon
my
friendship
and
tolerance.
“He's
very
particular,
and
he's
all
in
his
old
fishin'-clothes
to-day.
He'll
want
me
to
tell
him
everything
you
said
and
done,
after
you've
gone.
William
has
very
deep
affections.
He'll
want
to
see
you,
Almiry.
Yes,
I
guess
he'll
be
in
by
an'
by.”
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