visits, and made so many promises of stopping again on the way home
that I began to wonder how long the
expedition would last. I had
often noticed how warmly Mrs. Todd was greeted by her friends, but
it was hardly to be compared with the feeling now shown toward Mrs.
Blackett. A look of delight came to the faces of those who
recognized the plain, dear old figure beside me; one revelation
after another was made of the
constant interest and intercourse
that had linked the far island and these scattered farms into a
golden chain of love and dependence.
"Now, we mustn't stop again if we can help it," insisted Mrs.
Todd at last. "You'll get tired, mother, and you'll think the less
o' reunions. We can visit along here any day. There, if they
ain't frying doughnuts in this next house, too! These are new
folks, you know, from over St. George way; they took this old
Talcot farm last year. 'Tis the best water on the road, and the
check-rein's come undone--yes, we'd best delay a little and water
the horse."
We stopped, and
seeing a party of pleasure-seekers in holiday
attire, the thin,
anxiousmistress of the
farmhouse came out with
wistful
sympathy to hear what news we might have to give. Mrs.
Blackett first spied her at the half-closed door, and asked with
such
cheerful directness if we were trespassing that, after a few
words, she went back to her kitchen and reappeared with a plateful
of doughnuts.
"Entertainment for man and beast," announced Mrs. Todd with
satisfaction. "Why, we've perceived there was new doughnuts
all along the road, but you're the first that has treated us."
Our new
acquaintance flushed with pleasure, but said nothing.
"They're very nice; you've had good luck with 'em," pronounced
Mrs. Todd. "Yes, we've observed there was doughnuts all the way
along; if one house is frying all the rest is; 'tis so with a great
many things."
"I don't suppose likely you're goin' up to the Bowden
reunion?" asked the
hostess as the white horse lifted his head and
we were
saying good-by.
"Why, yes," said Mrs. Blackett and Mrs. Todd and I, all
together.
"I am connected with the family. Yes, I expect to be there
this afternoon. I've been lookin' forward to it," she told us
eagerly.
"We shall see you there. Come and sit with us if it's
convenient," said dear Mrs. Blackett, and we drove away.
"I wonder who she was before she was married?" said Mrs. Todd,
who was usually unerring in matters of genealogy. "She must have
been one of that
remote branch that lived down beyond Thomaston.
We can find out this afternoon. I expect that the families'll
march together, or be sorted out some way. I'm
willing to own a
relation that has such proper ideas of doughnuts."
"I seem to see the family looks," said Mrs. Blackett. "I wish
we'd asked her name. She's a stranger, and I want to help make it
pleasant for all such."
"She resembles Cousin Pa'lina Bowden about the forehead," said
Mrs. Todd with decision.
We had just passed a piece of
woodland that shaded the road,
and come out to some open fields beyond, when Mrs. Todd suddenly
reined in the horse as if somebody had stood on the
roadside and
stopped her. She even gave that quick reassuring nod of her head
which was usually made to answer for a bow, but I discovered that
she was looking
eagerly at a tall ash-tree that grew just inside
the field fence.
"I thought 'twas goin' to do well," she said complacently as
we went on again. "Last time I was up this way that tree was kind
of drooping and discouraged. Grown trees act that way sometimes,
same's folks; then they'll put right to it and strike their roots
off into new ground and start all over again with real good
courage. Ash-trees is very likely to have poor spells; they ain't
got the
resolution of other trees."
I listened
hopefully for more; it was this
peculiar wisdom
that made one value Mrs. Todd's pleasant company.
"There's sometimes a good
hearty tree growin' right out of the
bare rock, out o' some crack that just holds the roots;" she went
on to say, "right on the pitch o' one o' them bare stony hills
where you can't seem to see a wheel-barrowful o' good earth
in a place, but that tree'll keep a green top in the driest summer.
You lay your ear down to the ground an' you'll hear a little stream
runnin'. Every such tree has got its own livin' spring; there's
folk made to match 'em."
I could not help turning to look at Mrs. Blackett, close
beside me. Her hands were clasped placidly in their thin black
woolen gloves, and she was looking at the
flowerywayside as we
went slowly along, with a pleased,
expectant smile. I do not think
she had heard a word about the trees.
"I just saw a nice plant o' elecampane growin' back there,"
she said
presently to her daughter.
"I haven't got my mind on herbs to-day," responded Mrs. Todd,
in the most
matter-of-fact way. "I'm bent on
seeing folks," and
she shook the reins again.
I for one had no wish to hurry, it was so pleasant in the
shady roads. The woods stood close to the road on the right; on
the left were narrow fields and pastures where there were as many
acres of spruces and pines as there were acres of bay and juniper
and huckleberry, with a little turf between. When I thought we
were in the heart of the
inland country, we reached the top of a
hill, and suddenly there lay spread out before us a wonderful great
view of well-cleared fields that swept down to the wide water of a
bay. Beyond this were distant shores like another country in the
midday haze which half hid the hills beyond, and the faraway pale
blue mountains on the northern
horizon. There was a
schooner with
all sails set coming down the bay from a white village that was
sprinkled on the shore, and there were many sailboats flitting
about it. It was a noble
landscape, and my eyes, which had grown
used to the narrow
inspection of a shaded
roadside, could hardly
take it in.
"Why, it's the upper bay," said Mrs. Todd. "You can see 'way
over into the town of Fessenden. Those farms 'way over there are
all in Fessenden. Mother used to have a sister that lived up that
shore. If we started as early's we could on a summer mornin', we
couldn't get to her place from Green Island till late afternoon,
even with a fair, steady
breeze, and you had to strike the time
just right so as to fetch up 'long o' the tide and land near the
flood. 'Twas ticklish business, an' we didn't visit back an' forth
as much as mother desired. You have to go 'way down the co'st to
Cold Spring Light an' round that long point,--up here's what they
call the Back Shore."
"No, we were 'most always separated, my dear sister and me,
after the first year she was married," said Mrs. Blackett. "We had
our little families an' plenty o' cares. We were always lookin'
forward to the time we could see each other more. Now and then
she'd get out to the island for a few days while her husband'd go
fishin'; and once he stopped with her an' two children, and
made him some flakes right there and cured all his fish for winter.
We did have a beautiful time together, sister an' me; she used to
look back to it long's she lived.
"I do love to look over there where she used to live," Mrs.
Blackett went on as we began to go down the hill. "It seems as if
she must still be there, though she's long been gone. She loved
their farm,--she didn't see how I got so used to our island; but
somehow I was always happy from the first."
"Yes, it's very dull to me up among those slow farms,"
declared Mrs. Todd. "The snow troubles 'em in winter. They're all
besieged by winter, as you may say; 'tis far better by the shore
than up among such places. I never thought I should like to live
up country."
"Why, just see the carriages ahead of us on the next rise!"
exclaimed Mrs. Blackett. "There's going to be a great gathering,
don't you believe there is, Almiry? It hasn't seemed up to now as
if anybody was going but us. An' 'tis such a beautiful day, with
yesterday cool and pleasant to work an' get ready, I shouldn't
wonder if everybody was there, even the slow ones like Phebe Ann
Brock."
Mrs. Blackett's eyes were bright with
excitement, and even
Mrs. Todd showed
remarkableenthusiasm. She
hurried the horse and
caught up with the holiday-makers ahead. "There's all the
Dep'fords goin', six in the wagon," she told us
joyfully; "an' Mis'
Alva Tilley's folks are now risin' the hill in their new carry-
all."
Mrs. Blackett pulled at the neat bow of her black bonnet-
strings, and tied them again with careful
precision. I believe
your bonnet's on a little bit sideways, dear," she advised Mrs.
Todd as if she were a child; but Mrs. Todd was too much occupied to
pay proper heed. We began to feel a new sense of gayety and of
taking part in the great occasion as we joined the little train.
XVIII
The Bowden Reunion
IT IS VERY RARE in country life, where high days and holidays are
few, that any occasion of general interest proves to be less than
great. Such is the
hidden fire of
enthusiasm in the New England
nature that, once given an
outlet, it shines forth with
almost
volcanic light and heat. In quiet
neighborhoods such inward
force does not waste itself upon those petty
excitements of every
day that belong to cities, but when, at long intervals, the altars
to patriotism, to friendship, to the ties of
kindred, are reared in
our familiar fields, then the fires glow, the flames come up as if
from the inexhaustible burning heart of the earth; the primal fires
break through the
granite dust in which our souls are set. Each
heart is warm and every face shines with the ancient light. Such
a day as this has transfiguring powers, and easily makes friends of
those who have been cold-hearted, and gives to those who are dumb
their chance to speak, and lends some beauty to the plainest face.
"Oh, I expect I shall meet friends today that I haven't seen
in a long while," said Mrs. Blackett with deep satisfaction.
"'Twill bring out a good many of the old folks, 'tis such a lovely
day. I'm always glad not to have them disappointed."
"I guess likely the best of 'em'll be there," answered Mrs.
Todd with gentle humor, stealing a glance at me. "There's one
thing certain: there's nothing takes in this whole
neighborhoodlike anything
related to the Bowdens. Yes, I do feel that when you
call upon the Bowdens you may expect most families to rise up
between the Landing and the far end of the Back Cove. Those that
aren't kin by blood are kin by marriage."
"There used to be an old story goin' about when I was a girl,"
said Mrs. Blackett, with much
amusement. "There was a great many
more Bowdens then than there are now, and the folks was all
settingin meeting a
dreadful hot Sunday afternoon, and a scatter-witted
little bound girl came
running to the meetin'-house door all out o'
breath from somewheres in the
neighborhood. 'Mis' Bowden, Mis'
Bowden!' says she. 'Your baby's in a fit!' They used to tell that
the whole
congregation was up on its feet in a minute and right out
into the aisles. All the Mis' Bowdens was
setting right out for
home; the
minister stood there in the
pulpit tryin' to keep sober,
an' all at once he burst right out laughin'. He was a very nice
man, they said, and he said he'd better give 'em the benediction,
and they could hear the
sermon next Sunday, so he kept it over. My
mother was there, and she thought certain 'twas me."
"None of our family was ever subject to fits," interrupted
Mrs. Todd
severely. "No, we never had fits, none of us; and 'twas
lucky we didn't 'way out there to Green Island. Now these folks
right in front; dear sakes knows the bunches o' soothing catnip an'
yarrow I've had to favor old Mis' Evins with dryin'! You can see
it right in their expressions, all them Evins folks. There, just
you look up to the crossroads, mother," she suddenly exclaimed.