A Country Doctor and Selected Stories and SketchesJewett, Sarah Orne
General
A Country Doctor and Selected Stories and Sketches
Jewett, Sarah Orne
Maine -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
"I dare say," remarked Mrs. Graham drily, "but it seems to me that
neither of you took Marilla sufficiently into account. That must have
been the evening that the poor soul went to nearly every house in town
to ask if there were any stray company to tea. Some of us could not
help wondering where the young person was finally discovered. She has
a great fancy for the society of Miss Betsy Milman and Sally Turner at
present, and I quite sympathize with her. I often look over there and
see the end of their house with that one little square window in the
very peak of it spying up the street, and wish I could pay them a
visit myself and hear a bit of their wise gossip. I quite envy Nan her
chance of going in and being half forgotten as she sits in one of
their short chairs listening and watching. They used to be great
friends of her grandmother's. Oh no; if I could go to see them they
would insist upon my going into the best room, and we should all be
quite uncomfortable. It is much better to sit here and think about
them and hear their flat-irons creak away over the little boys'
jackets and trousers."
"I must confess that I have my own clothes mended there to this day,"
said the doctor. "Marilla says their mending is not what it used to
be, too, but it is quite good enough. As for that little window, I
hardly ever see it without remembering the day of your aunt Margaret's
funeral. I was only a boy and not deeply afflicted, but of course I
had my place in the procession and was counted among the mourners, and
as we passed the Milman place I saw the old lady's face up there just
filling the four small panes. You know she was almost helpless, and
how she had got up into the little garret I cannot imagine, but she
was evidently determined to inspect the procession as it went down the
burying-ground lane. It was a pity they did not cut the window beneath
it in the lower room in her day. You know what an odd face she had; I
suppose it was distorted by disease and out of all shape it ever knew;
but I can see it now, framed in with its cap border and the window as
if there were no more of her."
"She really was the most curious old creature; it more than accounts
for Mrs. Turner's and Miss Betsy's love for a piece of news," said
Mrs. Graham, who was much amused. "But I wish we understood the value
of these old news-loving people. So much local history and tradition
must die with every one of them if we take no pains to save it. I hope
you are wise about getting hold of as much as possible. You doctors
ought to be our historians, for you alone see the old country folks
familiarly and can talk with them without restraint."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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