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148
The Country of the Pointed Firs
·
Sarah Orne Jewett
66
I
thought
by
the
polite
absent-minded
smile
on
Mrs.
Todd's
face
this
was
no
new
story.
“Little
Louisa
was
a
beautiful
child;
yes,
I
always
thought
Louisa
was
very
pretty,”
Mrs.
Todd
said.
“She
was
a
dear
little
girl
in
those
days.
She
favored
your
mother;
the
rest
of
you
took
after
your
father's
folks.”
“We
did
certain,”
agreed
Mrs.
Fosdick,
rocking
steadily.
“There,
it
does
seem
so
pleasant
to
talk
with
an
old
acquaintance
that
knows
what
you
know.
I
see
so
many
of
these
new
folks
nowadays,
that
seem
to
have
neither
past
nor
future.
Conversation's
got
to
have
some
root
in
the
past,
or
else
you've
got
to
explain
every
remark
you
make,
an'
it
wears
a
person
out.”
Mrs.
Todd
gave
a
funny
little
laugh.
“Yes'm,
old
friends
is
always
best,
'less
you
can
catch
a
new
one
that's
fit
to
make
an
old
one
out
of,”
she
said,
and
we
gave
an
affectionate
glance
at
each
other
which
Mrs.
Fosdick
could
not
have
understood,
being
the
latest
comer
to
the
house.
XIII.
Poor
Joanna
ONE
EVENING
my
ears
caught
a
mysterious
allusion
which
Mrs.
Todd
made
to
Shell-heap
Island.
It
was
a
chilly
night
of
cold
northeasterly
rain,
and
I
made
a
fire
for
the
first
time
in
the
Franklin
stove
in
my
room,
and
begged
my
two
housemates
to
come
in
and
keep
me
company.
The
weather
had
convinced
Mrs.
Todd
that
it
was
time
to
make
a
supply
of
cough-drops,
and
she
had
been
bringing
forth
herbs
from
dark
and
dry
hiding-places,
until
now
the
pungent
dust
and
odor
of
them
had
resolved
themselves
into
one
mighty
flavor
of
spearmint
that
came
from
a
simmering
caldron
of
syrup
in
the
kitchen.
She
called
it
done,
and
well
done,
and
had
ostentatiously
left
it
to
cool,
and
taken
her
knitting-work
because
Mrs.
Fosdick
was
busy
with
hers.
They
sat
in
the
two
rocking-chairs,
the
small
woman
and
the
large
one,
but
now
and
then
I
could
see
that
Mrs.
Todd's
thoughts
remained
with
the
cough-drops.
The
time
of
gathering
herbs
was
nearly
over,
but
the
time
of
syrups
and
cordials
had
begun.
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