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148
The Country of the Pointed Firs
·
Sarah Orne Jewett
9
The
tide
was
in,
the
wide
harbor
was
surrounded
by
its
dark
woods,
and
the
small
wooden
houses
stood
as
near
as
they
could
get
to
the
landing.
Mrs.
Todd's
was
the
last
house
on
the
way
inland.
The
gray
ledges
of
the
rocky
shore
were
well
covered
with
sod
in
most
places,
and
the
pasture
bayberry
and
wild
roses
grew
thick
among
them.
I
could
see
the
higher
inland
country
and
the
scattered
farms.
On
the
brink
of
the
hill
stood
a
little
white
schoolhouse,
much
wind-blown
and
weather-beaten,
which
was
a
landmark
to
seagoing
folk;
from
its
door
there
was
a
most
beautiful
view
of
sea
and
shore.
The
summer
vacation
now
prevailed,
and
after
finding
the
door
unfastened,
and
taking
a
long
look
through
one
of
the
seaward
windows,
and
reflecting
afterward
for
some
time
in
a
shady
place
near
by
among
the
bayberry
bushes,
I
returned
to
the
chief
place
of
business
in
the
village,
and,
to
the
amusement
of
two
of
the
selectmen,
brothers
and
autocrats
of
Dunnet
Landing,
I
hired
the
schoolhouse
for
the
rest
of
the
vacation
for
fifty
cents
a
week.
Selfish
as
it
may
appear,
the
retired
situation
seemed
to
possess
great
advantages,
and
I
spent
many
days
there
quite
undisturbed,
with
the
sea-breeze
blowing
through
the
small,
high
windows
and
swaying
the
heavy
outside
shutters
to
and
fro.
I
hung
my
hat
and
luncheon-basket
on
an
entry
nail
as
if
I
were
a
small
scholar,
but
I
sat
at
the
teacher's
desk
as
if
I
were
that
great
authority,
with
all
the
timid
empty
benches
in
rows
before
me.
Now
and
then
an
idle
sheep
came
and
stood
for
a
long
time
looking
in
at
the
door.
At
sundown
I
went
back,
feeling
most
businesslike,
down
toward
the
village
again,
and
usually
met
the
flavor,
not
of
the
herb
garden,
but
of
Mrs.
Todd's
hot
supper,
halfway
up
the
hill.
On
the
nights
when
there
were
evening
meetings
or
other
public
exercises
that
demanded
her
presence
we
had
tea
very
early,
and
I
was
welcomed
back
as
if
from
a
long
absence.
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