Lab
Library
Journal
Shop
Sign in
to keep
Share image
1
148
The Country of the Pointed Firs
·
Sarah Orne Jewett
59
For
nearly
a
month
we
received
occasional
news
of
Mrs.
Fosdick,
who
seemed
to
be
making
a
royal
progress
from
house
to
house
in
the
inland
neighborhood,
after
the
fashion
of
Queen
Elizabeth.
One
Sunday
after
another
came
and
went,
disappointing
Mrs.
Todd
in
the
hope
of
seeing
her
guest
at
church
and
fixing
the
day
for
the
great
visit
to
begin;
but
Mrs.
Fosdick
was
not
ready
to
commit
herself
to
a
date.
An
assurance
of
“some
time
this
week”
was
not
sufficiently
definite
from
a
free-footed
housekeeper's
point
of
view,
and
Mrs.
Todd
put
aside
all
herb-gathering
plans,
and
went
through
the
various
stages
of
expectation,
provocation,
and
despair.
At
last
she
was
ready
to
believe
that
Mrs.
Fosdick
must
have
forgotten
her
promise
and
returned
to
her
home,
which
was
vaguely
said
to
be
over
Thomaston
way.
But
one
evening,
just
as
the
supper-table
was
cleared
and
“readied
up,”
and
Mrs.
Todd
had
put
her
large
apron
over
her
head
and
stepped
forth
for
an
evening
stroll
in
the
garden,
the
unexpected
happened.
She
heard
the
sound
of
wheels,
and
gave
an
excited
cry
to
me,
as
I
sat
by
the
window,
that
Mrs.
Fosdick
was
coming
right
up
the
street.
“She
may
not
be
considerate,
but
she's
dreadful
good
company,”
said
Mrs.
Todd
hastily,
coming
back
a
few
steps
from
the
neighborhood
of
the
gate.
“No,
she
ain't
a
mite
considerate,
but
there's
a
small
lobster
left
over
from
your
tea;
yes,
it's
a
real
mercy
there's
a
lobster.
Susan
Fosdick
might
just
as
well
have
passed
the
compliment
o'
comin'
an
hour
ago.”
Marker
Marker
Fine marker
White-out
Fine white-out
Circle
Paint
Unmarker
Hand
Scalpel
Dice
Sieve
Purify
Undo
Redo
Start over
