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Updated: June 25, 2025
All at once there came a picture before Ann's eyes: not the tramp with the bulging pockets, as he sought the hospitality of the ruined house, but the same tramp as he stood on her doorstone and asked for food. The whole event was clear to her. She called herself a fool for not having known at once. "Sam say anything more about him?" she asked eagerly. "What he had on?" "No.
It appears to date from the first muddy day of creation. I have such a one for my doorstone at Woodchuck Lodge. It is amusing to see the sweepers and scrubbers of doorstones fall upon it with soap and hot water, and utterly fail to make any impression upon it. Nowhere else have I seen rocks casehardened with primal mud.
She sat upon the doorstone and hemmed small muslin curtains which were to go in the bedrooms upstairs, and Martha, Winifred, and Ellen, seeing this, sent for their sewing materials and helped her, while the daylight lasted. Burns, looking on, hands in pockets, suddenly observed, "We fellows ought to be doing something for her. What do you say to every man going for a scythe and cutting the grass?
She could walk over to Pine Hollow, to see how the cones were coming on, and perchance scrape together a basket of pine needles, to add to her winter's kindling; or she might, if the world and the desires thereof assailed her, visit Sudleigh Fair. Better still, she need account to nobody if she chose to sit there on the doorstone, and let the hours go unregretted by.
Those recitations in the dear, chalky old rooms! Oh, how I would like to go back over that hollow doorstone again!" She broke off, with tears in her eyes. He was obliged to cough two or three times before he could break the silence. "I know just how you feel. I know, the first spring when I went back on the farm, it seemed as if I couldn't stand it. I thought I'd go crazy.
Mariana had hesitated on the doorstone, at her leaving, and there the cap'n bade her good-by, rather piteously and with finality, though they were to be neighbors still. "Well, Eben," she hesitated. There was something she had meant to say.
Oh! no, that's what ye're lookin' for, Ah sez, for Ah'd heerd rumours 'Ah'll no resign, Ah sez, 'but Ah'll jist wait till the Sabbath's ower an' Ah'll get ma ax, Ah sez, 'an by the help o' the Almichty Ah'll smash the abomination into a thoosand splinters!" His stick came down upon the doorstone with a crash that prophesied total destruction to the offending instrument.
Rand dropped the paper in his hand and sat listening. "Unlucky! I wanted no visitor to-night. It may be but a messenger. Ring the bell, will you, for Joab." The horse came on and stopped before the great doorstone. There was the sound of some one dismounting, Joab speaking, and then the voice of the horseman. Rand started violently. "Are we awake?" he said, rising.
Oh, this world!" then, "What if he is not from home?" She kept away, and her cousin made no complaint. And what if Lewis Rand were at home? He was not at home. Jacqueline met her upon the great doorstone, kissed her, and held her hand, but made no exclamation of surprise and asked no questions.
These sentimental plants breathe something of the longing of the maiden who sits in the Sunday evenings of summer on the lonesome front doorstone, singing the hymns of the saints, and perennial as the myrtle that grows thereby. Yet not always in summer, even with the aid of unrequited love and devotional feeling, is it safe to let the fire go out on the hearth, in our latitude.
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