The Country of the Pointed Firs

“It seems kind o' formal comin' in this way,” said Mrs. Todd impulsively, as we passed the flowers and came to the front doorstep; but she was mindful of the proprieties, and walked before us into the best room on the left. “Why, mother, if you haven't gone an' turned the carpet!” she exclaimed, with something in her voice that spoke of awe and admiration. “When'd you get to it? I s'pose Mis' Addicks come over an' helped you, from White Island Landing?” “No, she didn't,” answered the old woman, standing proudly erect, and making the most of a great moment. “I done it all myself with William's help. He had a spare day, an' took right holt with me; an' 'twas all well beat on the grass, an' turned, an' put down again afore we went to bed. I ripped an' sewed over two o' them long breadths. I ain't had such a good night's sleep for two years.” “There, what do you think o' havin' such a mother as that for eighty-six year old?” said Mrs. Todd, standing before us like a large figure of Victory. As for the mother, she took on a sudden look of youth; you felt as if she promised a great future, and was beginning, not ending, her summers and their happy toils. “My, my!” exclaimed Mrs. Todd. “I couldn't ha' done it myself, I've got to own it.” “I was much pleased to have it off my mind,” said Mrs. Blackett, humbly; “the more so because along at the first of the next week I wasn't very well. I suppose it may have been the change of weather.”