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The Country of the Pointed Firs-Part8_Sarah Orne Jewett(1849-1909)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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with as much comfort and unconsciousness as if it were a larger



body, or a double shell, in whose simple convolutions Mrs. Todd and

I had secreted ourselves, until some wandering hermit crab of a



visitor marked the little spare room for her own. Perhaps now and

then a castaway on a lonely desert island dreads the thought of



being rescued. I heard of Mrs. Fosdick for the first time with a

selfish sense of objection; but after all, I was still vacation-



tenant of the schoolhouse, where I could always be alone, and it

was impossible not to sympathize with Mrs. Todd, who, in spite of



some preliminary grumbling, was really delighted with the prospect

of entertaining an old friend.



For nearly a month we received occasional news of Mrs.

Fosdick, who seemed to be making a royal progress from house to



house in the inlandneighborhood, after the fashion of Queen

Elizabeth. One Sunday after another came and went, disappointing



Mrs. Todd in the hope of seeing her guest at church and fixing the

day for the great visit to begin; but Mrs. Fosdick was not ready to



commit herself to a date. An assurance of "some time this week"

was not sufficientlydefinite from a free-footed housekeeper's



point of view, and Mrs. Todd put aside all herb-gathering plans,

and went through the various stages of expectation, provocation,



and despair. At last she was ready to believe that Mrs. Fosdick

must have forgotten her promise and returned to her home, which was



vaguely said to be over Thomaston way. But one evening, just as

the supper-table was cleared and "readied up," and Mrs. Todd had



put her large apron over her head and stepped forth for an

evening stroll in the garden, the unexpected happened. She heard



the sound of wheels, and gave an excited cry to me, as I sat by the

window, that Mrs. Fosdick was coming right up the street.



"She may not be considerate, but she's dreadful good company,"

said Mrs. Todd hastily, coming back a few steps from the



neighborhood of the gate. "No, she ain't a mite considerate, but

there's a small lobster left over from your tea; yes, it's a real



mercy there's a lobster. Susan Fosdick might just as well have

passed the compliment o' comin' an hour ago."



"Perhaps she has had her supper," I ventured to suggest,

sharing the housekeeper's anxiety, and meeklyconscious of an



inconsiderateappetite for my own supper after a long expedition up

the bay. There were so few emergencies of any sort at Dunnet



Landing that this one appeared overwhelming.

"No, she's rode 'way over from Nahum Brayton's place. I



expect they were busy on the farm, and couldn't spare the horse in

proper season. You just sly out an' set the teakittle on again,



dear, an' drop in a good han'ful o' chips; the fire's all alive.

I'll take her right up to lay off her things, as she'll be occupied



with explanations an' gettin' her bunnit off, so you'll have plenty

o' time. She's one I shouldn't like to have find me unprepared."



Mrs. Fosdick was already at the gate, and Mrs. Todd now turned

with an air of complete surprise and delight to welcome her.



"Why, Susan Fosdick," I heard her exclaim in a fine unhindered

voice, as if she were calling across a field, "I come near giving



of you up! I was afraid you'd gone an' 'portioned out my visit to

somebody else. I s'pose you've been to supper?"



"Lor', no, I ain't, Almiry Todd," said Mrs. Fosdick

cheerfully, as she turned, laden with bags and bundles, from making



her adieux to the boy driver. "I ain't had a mite o' supper, dear.

I've been lottin' all the way on a cup o' that best tea o' yourn,--



some o' that Oolong you keep in the little chist. I don't want

none o' your useful herbs."



"I keep that tea for ministers' folks," gayly responded Mrs.

Todd. "Come right along in, Susan Fosdick. I declare if you ain't



the same old sixpence!"

As they came up the walk together, laughing like girls, I



fled, full of cares, to the kitchen, to brighten the fire and be

sure that the lobster, sole dependence of a late supper, was well



out of reach of the cat. There proved to be fine reserves of wild

raspberries and bread and butter, so that I regained my composure,



and waited impatiently for my own share of this illustrious visit

to begin. There was an instant sense of high festivity in



the evening air from the moment when our guest had so frankly

demanded the Oolong tea.



The great moment arrived. I was formally presented at the

stair-foot, and the two friends passed on to the kitchen, where I



soon heard a hospitable clink of crockery and the brisk stirring of




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