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148
The Country of the Pointed Firs
·
Sarah Orne Jewett
78
“Old
Dr.
Bennett
had
a
beautiful
sailboat,
didn't
he?”
responded
Mrs.
Todd.
“And
how
well
he
used
to
brave
the
weather!
Mother
always
said
that
in
time
o'
trouble
that
tall
white
sail
used
to
look
like
an
angel's
wing
comin'
over
the
sea
to
them
that
was
in
pain.
Well,
there's
a
difference
in
gifts.
Mr.
Dimmick
was
not
without
light.”
“'Twas
light
o'
the
moon,
then,”
snapped
Mrs.
Fosdick;
“he
was
pompous
enough,
but
I
never
could
remember
a
single
word
he
said.
There,
go
on,
Mis'
Todd;
I
forget
a
great
deal
about
that
day
you
went
to
see
poor
Joanna.”
“I
felt
she
saw
us
coming,
and
knew
us
a
great
way
off;
yes,
I
seemed
to
feel
it
within
me,”
said
our
friend,
laying
down
her
knitting.
“I
kept
my
seat,
and
took
the
bo't
inshore
without
saying
a
word;
there
was
a
short
channel
that
I
was
sure
Mr.
Dimmick
wasn't
acquainted
with,
and
the
tide
was
very
low.
She
never
came
out
to
warn
us
off
nor
anything,
and
I
thought,
as
I
hauled
the
bo't
up
on
a
wave
and
let
the
Reverend
Mr.
Dimmick
step
out,
that
it
was
somethin'
gained
to
be
safe
ashore.
There
was
a
little
smoke
out
o'
the
chimney
o'
Joanna's
house,
and
it
did
look
sort
of
homelike
and
pleasant
with
wild
mornin'-glory
vines
trained
up;
an'
there
was
a
plot
o'
flowers
under
the
front
window,
portulacas
and
things.
I
believe
she'd
made
a
garden
once,
when
she
was
stopping
there
with
her
father,
and
some
things
must
have
seeded
in.
It
looked
as
if
she
might
have
gone
over
to
the
other
side
of
the
island.
'Twas
neat
and
pretty
all
about
the
house,
and
a
lovely
day
in
July.
We
walked
up
from
the
beach
together
very
sedate,
and
I
felt
for
poor
Nathan's
little
pin
to
see
if
'twas
safe
in
my
dress
pocket.
All
of
a
sudden
Joanna
come
right
to
the
fore
door
and
stood
there,
not
sayin'
a
word.”
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