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148
The Country of the Pointed Firs
·
Sarah Orne Jewett
69
“Yes,”
said
Mrs.
Todd
after
a
moment
of
meditation,
“there
was
certain
a
good
many
curiosities
of
human
natur'
in
this
neighborhood
years
ago.
There
was
more
energy
then,
and
in
some
the
energy
took
a
singular
turn.
In
these
days
the
young
folks
is
all
copy-cats,
'fraid
to
death
they
won't
be
all
just
alike;
as
for
the
old
folks,
they
pray
for
the
advantage
o'
bein'
a
little
different.”
“I
ain't
heard
of
a
copy-cat
this
great
many
years,”
said
Mrs.
Fosdick,
laughing;
“'twas
a
favorite
term
o'
my
grandfather's.
No,
I
wa'n't
thinking
o'
those
things,
but
of
them
strange
straying
creatur's
that
used
to
rove
the
country.
You
don't
see
them
now,
or
the
ones
that
used
to
hive
away
in
their
own
houses
with
some
strange
notion
or
other.”
I
thought
again
of
Captain
Littlepage,
but
my
companions
were
not
reminded
of
his
name;
and
there
was
brother
William
at
Green
Island,
whom
we
all
three
knew.
“I
was
talking
o'
poor
Joanna
the
other
day.
I
hadn't
thought
of
her
for
a
great
while,”
said
Mrs.
Fosdick
abruptly.
“Mis'
Brayton
an'
I
recalled
her
as
we
sat
together
sewing.
She
was
one
o'
your
peculiar
persons,
wa'n't
she?
Speaking
of
such
persons,”
she
turned
to
explain
to
me,
“there
was
a
sort
of
a
nun
or
hermit
person
lived
out
there
for
years
all
alone
on
Shell-heap
Island.
Miss
Joanna
Todd,
her
name
was,--a
cousin
o'
Almiry's
late
husband.”
I
expressed
my
interest,
but
as
I
glanced
at
Mrs.
Todd
I
saw
that
she
was
confused
by
sudden
affectionate
feeling
and
unmistakable
desire
for
reticence.
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