"I never would have believed it to see such overturnings in my house!"
exclaimed Miss Jewett, with a sigh; "and if 'twas anybody but John
Britton I wouldn't stand it. I wonder if he won't be telling me how to
make butter and raise chickens and turkeys next!"
"Mebbe he'll bring 'round one o' them new-fangled contrivances for
hatchin' chickens without hens," Sally ventured, with a laugh; adding,
reflectively, "I wonder why, when they was about it, they didn't invent
a machine to lay aigs as well as hatch 'em; that would 'ave been a
savin', for a hen's keep don't amount to much when she's settin', but
they're powerful big eaters generally."
Miss Jewett prided herself upon her thrift and economy; her well-kept
house where nothing was allowed to go to waste; her spotless dairy-rooms
and rolls of golden butter which never failed to bring a cent and a half
more a pound than any other; her fine breeds of poultry which annually
carried off the blue ribbons at the county fair. She had achieved a
local reputation of which she was quite proud; she would brook no
interference in her management of household affairs, and, as she said,
no one but John Britton would ever have been allowed to infringe upon
her established rules and regulations. There had been a time when she
had shared equally with her sister John Britton's attentions. It had
been the only bit of romance in her life, but a lingering sweetness from
it still remained in her heart through all the commonplace years that
had followed, like the faint perfume from rose-leaves, faded and
shrivelled, but cherished as sacred mementos. She had not blamed him for
choosing her younger and more attractive sister, and she had secretly
admired her sister for braving their father's displeasure to marry him.
And now she was glad that he had returned; glad for his own sake that
the imputations cast upon him by her father and others were refuted; for
her sister's sake, that her last days should be so brightened and
glorified; but deep within her heart, glad for her own sake, because it
was good to look upon his face and hear his voice again.
Sally's strident tones broke in upon her retrospection: "There's one thing, Miss Jewett, I guess you needn't be afeard they'll
meddle with, and that's your cookin'. Mr. Darrell, he was tellin' me
about the prices people had to pay for meals on them
eatin'-cars,--'diners' he called 'em,--and I told him there wasn't no
vittles on earth worth any such price as that, and I up and asked him
whether they was as good as the vittles he gets here, and he laughed and
said there wasn't nobody could beat his Aunt Espey at cookin'."
Miss Jewett's eyes brightened. "Bless the boy's heart!" she exclaimed;
"I'm glad they're going to be here for Thanksgiving; I'll see that they
get such a dinner as they neither of them ever dreamed of!"