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148
The Country of the Pointed Firs
·
Sarah Orne Jewett
94
These
were
signs
of
high
festivity,
and
my
interest
deepened
moment
by
moment.
“I'll
go
down
to
the
Beggs'
and
get
the
horse
just
as
soon
as
I
finish
my
breakfast,”
said
I.
“Then
we
can
start
whenever
you
are
ready.”
Mrs.
Todd
looked
cloudy
again.
“I
don't
know
but
you
look
nice
enough
to
go
just
as
you
be,”
she
suggested
doubtfully.
“No,
you
wouldn't
want
to
wear
that
pretty
blue
dress
o'
yourn
'way
up
country.
'Taint
dusty
now,
but
it
may
be
comin'
home.
No,
I
expect
you'd
rather
not
wear
that
and
the
other
hat.”
“Oh
yes.
I
shouldn't
think
of
wearing
these
clothes,”
said
I,
with
sudden
illumination.
“Why,
if
we're
going
up
country
and
are
likely
to
see
some
of
your
friends,
I'll
put
on
my
blue
dress,
and
you
must
wear
your
watch;
I
am
not
going
at
all
if
you
mean
to
wear
the
big
hat.”
“Now
you're
behavin'
pretty,”
responded
Mrs.
Todd,
with
a
gay
toss
of
her
head
and
a
cheerful
smile,
as
she
came
across
the
room,
bringing
a
saucerful
of
wild
raspberries,
a
pretty
piece
of
salvage
from
supper-time.
“I
was
cast
down
when
I
see
you
come
to
breakfast.
I
didn't
think
'twas
just
what
you'd
select
to
wear
to
the
reunion,
where
you're
goin'
to
meet
everybody.”
“What
reunion
do
you
mean?”
I
asked,
not
without
amazement.
“Not
the
Bowden
Family's?
I
thought
that
was
going
to
take
place
in
September.”
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