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1
148
The Country of the Pointed Firs
·
Sarah Orne Jewett
93
I
heard
this
explanation
with
interest.
The
tone
of
Mrs.
Todd's
voice
was
complaining
at
the
last.
“I
like
the
grocery
just
as
well
as
the
chaise,”
I
hastened
to
say,
referring
to
a
long-bodied
high
wagon
with
a
canopy-top,
like
an
attenuated
four-posted
bedstead
on
wheels,
in
which
we
sometimes
journeyed.
“We
can
put
things
in
behind--roots
and
flowers
and
raspberries,
or
anything
you
are
going
after--much
better
than
if
we
had
the
chaise.”
Mrs.
Todd
looked
stony
and
unwilling.
“I
counted
upon
the
chaise,”
she
said,
turning
her
back
to
me,
and
roughly
pushing
back
all
the
quiet
tumblers
on
the
cupboard
shelf
as
if
they
had
been
impertinent.
“Yes,
I
desired
the
chaise
for
once.
I
ain't
goin'
berryin'
nor
to
fetch
home
no
more
wilted
vegetation
this
year.
Season's
about
past,
except
for
a
poor
few
o'
late
things,”
she
added
in
a
milder
tone.
“I'm
goin'
up
country.
No,
I
ain't
intendin'
to
go
berryin'.
I've
been
plottin'
for
it
the
past
fortnight
and
hopin'
for
a
good
day.”
“Would
you
like
to
have
me
go
too?”
I
asked
frankly,
but
not
without
a
humble
fear
that
I
might
have
mistaken
the
purpose
of
this
latest
plan.
“Oh
certain,
dear!”
answered
my
friend
affectionately.
“Oh
no,
I
never
thought
o'
any
one
else
for
comp'ny,
if
it's
convenient
for
you,
long's
poor
mother
ain't
come.
I
ain't
nothin'
like
so
handy
with
a
conveyance
as
I
be
with
a
good
bo't.
Comes
o'
my
early
bringing-up.
I
expect
we've
got
to
make
that
great
high
wagon
do.
The
tires
want
settin'
and
'tis
all
loose-jointed,
so
I
can
hear
it
shackle
the
other
side
o'
the
ridge.
We'll
put
the
basket
in
front.
I
ain't
goin'
to
have
it
bouncin'
an'
twirlin'
all
the
way.
Why,
I've
been
makin'
some
nice
hearts
and
rounds
to
carry.”
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