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148
The Country of the Pointed Firs
·
Sarah Orne Jewett
76
“Mother
used
to
say
she
didn't
see
how
Joanna
lived
without
having
nobody
to
do
for,
getting
her
own
meals
and
tending
her
own
poor
self
day
in
an'
day
out,”
said
Mrs.
Todd
sorrowfully.
“There
was
the
hens,”
repeated
Mrs.
Fosdick
kindly.
“I
expect
she
soon
came
to
makin'
folks
o'
them.
No,
I
never
went
to
work
to
blame
Joanna,
as
some
did.
She
was
full
o'
feeling,
and
her
troubles
hurt
her
more
than
she
could
bear.
I
see
it
all
now
as
I
couldn't
when
I
was
young.”
“I
suppose
in
old
times
they
had
their
shut-up
convents
for
just
such
folks,”
said
Mrs.
Todd,
as
if
she
and
her
friend
had
disagreed
about
Joanna
once,
and
were
now
in
happy
harmony.
She
seemed
to
speak
with
new
openness
and
freedom.
“Oh
yes,
I
was
only
too
pleased
when
the
Reverend
Mr.
Dimmick
invited
me
to
go
out
with
him.
He
hadn't
been
very
long
in
the
place
when
Joanna
left
home
and
friends.
'Twas
one
day
that
next
summer
after
she
went,
and
I
had
been
married
early
in
the
spring.
He
felt
that
he
ought
to
go
out
and
visit
her.
She
was
a
member
of
the
church,
and
might
wish
to
have
him
consider
her
spiritual
state.
I
wa'n't
so
sure
o'
that,
but
I
always
liked
Joanna,
and
I'd
come
to
be
her
cousin
by
marriage.
Nathan
an'
I
had
conversed
about
goin'
out
to
pay
her
a
visit,
but
he
got
his
chance
to
sail
sooner'n
he
expected.
He
always
thought
everything
of
her,
and
last
time
he
come
home,
knowing
nothing
of
her
change,
he
brought
her
a
beautiful
coral
pin
from
a
port
he'd
touched
at
somewheres
up
the
Mediterranean.
So
I
wrapped
the
little
box
in
a
nice
piece
of
paper
and
put
it
in
my
pocket,
and
picked
her
a
bunch
of
fresh
lemon
balm,
and
off
we
started.”
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