Country life -- Connecticut; Essays; Natural history -- Outdoor books
One exception there was. We drew up one afternoon by a well-kept little
house with a good English name on the post-box, and, as usual, I held
the reins while Jonathan went up to the side door to make inquiries.
After he had started up the path I saw, from my vantage-point, the lady
of the farm returning from her "garden patch," and my heart went out in
pity to Jonathan. If I could have called him back I would have done so,
merely on the testimony of the lady's gait and figure. I had never fully
realized how expressive these could be. Her hips, her shoulders, the set
of her head, the way she planted her feet on the uneven flagging-stones
of the path, each heavy line and each sodden motion, bespoke
inhospitality, intolerance, impenetrable disapproval of everything
unfamiliar. I watched Jonathan turn back from the door at the sound of
her steps, and in the short colloquy that followed, though I could hear
nothing, I could see those hips and shoulders settling themselves yet
more decisively, while Jonathan's attitude grew more studiously
courteous. But when he had lifted his hat again and turned from that
monument of immobile unpleasantness I saw his face relax into lines,
partly of amusement, partly of chagrin; and as he took his seat beside
me and drove on, he murmured snatches of quotation--"No; couldn't
possibly," "No; don't know anybody that could," "No; never did such a
thing," "No; the people in the next house've just had a funeral; sure
_they_ couldn't"; and finally he broke into a chuckle as he quoted,
"Well, there _is_ some folks about two mile down might mebbe take ye;
they does sometimes harbor peddlers 'n' such like." Jonathan was hardly
willing to try again so near by; he regarded the whole neighborhood as
tainted. Yet it was little more than two miles beyond, on that same
afternoon, that we found lodgings with the most delightful, the most
hospitable friends of all--for friends they became, taking us into
their circle as if we belonged to it by right of birth, coddling us as
one ought never to expect to be coddled save by one's own mother or
grandmother.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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