A Strange SailEXCEPT FOR a few stray guests, islanders or from the inland country, to whom Mrs.Todd offered the hospitalities of a single meal, we were quite by ourselves all summer; and when there were signs of invasion, late in July, and a certain Mrs.Fosdick appeared like a strange sail on the far horizon, I suffered much from apprehension.I had been living in the quaint little house 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 inland neighborhood, 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 sufficiently definite 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 meekly conscious of an inconsiderate appetite 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.Iexpect 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, Ifled, 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 Isoon heard a hospitable clink of crockery and the brisk stirring of a tea-cup.I sat in my high-backed rocking-chair by the window in the front room with an unreasonable feeling of being left out, like the child who stood at the gate in Hans Andersen's story.Mrs.
Fosdick did not look, at first sight, like a person of great social gifts.She was a serious-looking little bit of an old woman, with a birdlike nod of the head.I had often been told that she was the "best hand in the world to make a visit,"--as if to visit were the highest of vocations; that everybody wished for her, while few could get her; and I saw that Mrs.Todd felt a comfortable sense of distinction in being favored with the company of this eminent person who "knew just how." It was certainly true that Mrs.
Fosdick gave both her hostess and me a warm feeling of enjoyment and expectation, as if she had the power of social suggestion to all neighboring minds.
