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148
The Country of the Pointed Firs
·
Sarah Orne Jewett
80
“She
was
the
same
as
ever,
except
I
thought
she
looked
smaller,”
answered
Mrs.
Todd
after
thinking
a
moment;
perhaps
it
was
only
a
last
considering
thought
about
her
patient.
“Yes,
she
was
just
the
same,
and
looked
very
nice,
Joanna
did.
I
had
been
married
since
she
left
home,
an'
she
treated
me
like
her
own
folks.
I
expected
she'd
look
strange,
with
her
hair
turned
gray
in
a
night
or
somethin',
but
she
wore
a
pretty
gingham
dress
I'd
often
seen
her
wear
before
she
went
away;
she
must
have
kept
it
nice
for
best
in
the
afternoons.
She
always
had
beautiful,
quiet
manners.
I
remember
she
waited
till
we
were
close
to
her,
and
then
kissed
me
real
affectionate,
and
inquired
for
Nathan
before
she
shook
hands
with
the
minister,
and
then
she
invited
us
both
in.
'Twas
the
same
little
house
her
father
had
built
him
when
he
was
a
bachelor,
with
one
livin'-room,
and
a
little
mite
of
a
bedroom
out
of
it
where
she
slept,
but
'twas
neat
as
a
ship's
cabin.
There
was
some
old
chairs,
an'
a
seat
made
of
a
long
box
that
might
have
held
boat
tackle
an'
things
to
lock
up
in
his
fishin'
days,
and
a
good
enough
stove
so
anybody
could
cook
and
keep
warm
in
cold
weather.
I
went
over
once
from
home
and
stayed
'most
a
week
with
Joanna
when
we
was
girls,
and
those
young
happy
days
rose
up
before
me.
Her
father
was
busy
all
day
fishin'
or
clammin';
he
was
one
o'
the
pleasantest
men
in
the
world,
but
Joanna's
mother
had
the
grim
streak,
and
never
knew
what
'twas
to
be
happy.
The
first
minute
my
eyes
fell
upon
Joanna's
face
that
day
I
saw
how
she
had
grown
to
look
like
Mis'
Todd.
'Twas
the
mother
right
over
again.”
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