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148
The Country of the Pointed Firs
·
Sarah Orne Jewett
96
“Oh,
what
a
poor,
plain
garden!
Hardly
a
flower
in
it
except
your
bush
o'
balm!”
she
said.
“But
you
do
keep
your
garden
neat,
Almiry.
Are
you
both
well,
an'
goin'
up
country
with
me?”
She
came
a
step
or
two
closer
to
meet
us,
with
quaint
politeness
and
quite
as
delightful
as
if
she
were
at
home.
She
dropped
a
quick
little
curtsey
before
Mrs.
Todd.
“There,
mother,
what
a
girl
you
be!
I
am
so
pleased!
I
was
just
bewailin'
you,”
said
the
daughter,
with
unwonted
feeling.
“I
was
just
bewailin'
you,
I
was
so
disappointed,
an'
I
kep'
myself
awake
a
good
piece
o'
the
night
scoldin'
poor
William.
I
watched
for
the
boat
till
I
was
ready
to
shed
tears
yisterday,
and
when
'twas
comin'
dark
I
kep'
making
errands
out
to
the
gate
an'
down
the
road
to
see
if
you
wa'n't
in
the
doldrums
somewhere
down
the
bay.”
“There
was
a
head-wind,
as
you
know,”
said
Mrs.
Blackett,
giving
me
the
cap-basket,
and
holding
my
hand
affectionately
as
we
walked
up
the
clean-swept
path
to
the
door.
“I
was
partly
ready
to
come,
but
dear
William
said
I
should
be
all
tired
out
and
might
get
cold,
havin'
to
beat
all
the
way
in.
So
we
give
it
up,
and
set
down
and
spent
the
evenin'
together.
It
was
a
little
rough
and
windy
outside,
and
I
guess
'twas
better
judgment;
we
went
to
bed
very
early
and
made
a
good
start
just
at
daylight.
It's
been
a
lovely
mornin'
on
the
water.
William
thought
he'd
better
fetch
across
beyond
Bird
Rocks,
rowin'
the
greater
part
o'
the
way;
then
we
sailed
from
there
right
over
to
the
landin',
makin'
only
one
tack.
William'll
be
in
again
for
me
to-morrow,
so
I
can
come
back
here
an'
rest
me
over
night,
an'
go
to
meetin'
to-morrow,
and
have
a
nice,
good
visit.”
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