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148
The Country of the Pointed Firs
·
Sarah Orne Jewett
55
XI.
The
Old
Singers
WILLIAM
WAS
sitting
on
the
side
door
step,
and
the
old
mother
was
busy
making
her
tea;
she
gave
into
my
hand
an
old
flowered-glass
tea-caddy.
“William
thought
you'd
like
to
see
this,
when
he
was
settin'
the
table.
My
father
brought
it
to
my
mother
from
the
island
of
Tobago;
an'
here's
a
pair
of
beautiful
mugs
that
came
with
it.”
She
opened
the
glass
door
of
a
little
cupboard
beside
the
chimney.
“These
I
call
my
best
things,
dear,”
she
said.
“You'd
laugh
to
see
how
we
enjoy
'em
Sunday
nights
in
winter:
we
have
a
real
company
tea
'stead
o'
livin'
right
along
just
the
same,
an'
I
make
somethin'
good
for
a
s'prise
an'
put
on
some
o'
my
preserves,
an'
we
get
a'talkin'
together
an'
have
real
pleasant
times.”
Mrs.
Todd
laughed
indulgently,
and
looked
to
see
what
I
thought
of
such
childishness.
“I
wish
I
could
be
here
some
Sunday
evening,”
said
I.
“William
an'
me'll
be
talkin'
about
you
an'
thinkin'
o'
this
nice
day,”
said
Mrs.
Blackett
affectionately,
and
she
glanced
at
William,
and
he
looked
up
bravely
and
nodded.
I
began
to
discover
that
he
and
his
sister
could
not
speak
their
deeper
feelings
before
each
other.
“Now
I
want
you
an'
mother
to
sing,”
said
Mrs.
Todd
abruptly,
with
an
air
of
command,
and
I
gave
William
much
sympathy
in
his
evident
distress.
“After
I've
had
my
cup
o'
tea,
dear,”
answered
the
old
hostess
cheerfully;
and
so
we
sat
down
and
took
our
cups
and
made
merry
while
they
lasted.
It
was
impossible
not
to
wish
to
stay
on
forever
at
Green
Island,
and
I
could
not
help
saying
so.
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