The Country of the Pointed Firs

“They must have stopped to tea somewheres and thought they'd finish up the day,” said Mrs. Todd. “Those that enjoyed it best'll want to get right home so's to think it over.” “I didn't see the woman there after all, did you?” asked Mrs. Blackett as the horse stopped to drink at the trough. “Oh yes, I spoke with her,” answered Mrs. Todd, with but scant interest or approval. “She ain't a member o' our family.” “I thought you said she resembled Cousin Pa'lina Bowden about the forehead,” suggested Mrs. Blackett. “Well, she don't,” answered Mrs. Todd impatiently. “I ain't one that's ord'narily mistaken about family likenesses, and she didn't seem to meet with friends, so I went square up to her. 'I expect you're a Bowden by your looks,' says I. 'Yes, I can take it you're one o' the Bowdens.' 'Lor', no,' says she. 'Dennett was my maiden name, but I married a Bowden for my first husband. I thought I'd come an' just see what was a-goin' on!” Mrs. Blackett laughed heartily. “I'm goin' to remember to tell William o' that,” she said. “There, Almiry, the only thing that's troubled me all this day is to think how William would have enjoyed it. I do so wish William had been there.” “I sort of wish he had, myself,” said Mrs. Todd frankly. “There wa'n't many old folks there, somehow,” said Mrs. Blackett, with a touch of sadness in her voice. “There ain't so many to come as there used to be, I'm aware, but I expected to see more.”