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Updated: May 25, 2025
"To-day is Tuesday. Say we start on Thursday. That gives us a day to go over and say good-by." "One day isn't enough," said Lewis. "Make it two." "All right," agreed Leighton. For that afternoon Lewis and Natalie had planned a long tramp, but before they had gone a mile from Aunt Jed's a purling brook in the depths of a still wood raised before them an impassable barrier of beauty.
Some strange spell, exhaled from the unchanging aspect of the old house and the old people, fell on me, and, though I tried several times, I could not find a suitable opening. On Sunday morning grandfather asked me if I would help him to get out to Jed's grave. The peonies and syringas were in bloom, and grandmother had the bouquet made up ready.
She shook her head. "You don't know Jed's crowd. They'd be suspicious of any officer, no matter where he came from." "Far as I can make out, that young man is going to be loaded with suspicions of me anyhow," he laughed. "It isn't anything to laugh at. You don't know him," she told him gravely. "And can't say I'm suffering to," he drawled.
I took the papers back to the town where I was teaching, to look over them. Among other things was a quaint old diary of my grandmother's great-aunt, she that was the buxom widow of Jed's story. It was full of homely items of her rustic occupations; what day she had "sett the broune hen," and how much butter was made the first month she had the "party-colored cowe from over the mount'n."
And then, oddly enough, it was she, not Mr. Winslow, who showed embarrassment. "Jed," she said, "what do you suppose I came here for this morning?" Jed's reply was surprisingly prompt. "To show your new rig-out, of course," he said. "'Vanity of vanities, all is vanity. There, NOW I can take up a collection, can't I?" His visitor pouted. "If you do I shan't put anything in the box," she declared.
Jed demanded to be told more particulars concerning the enlisting. So Charles told the story of his Boston trip, while Maud looked and listened adoringly, and Jed, watching the young people's happiness, was, for the time, almost happy himself. When they rose to go Charlie laid a hand on Jed's shoulder. "I can't tell you," he said, "what a brick you've been through all this.
"You told him to go to Boston and YOU did? What on earth?" Jed's brush moved slowly down the wooden legs of his sailor man. "Leander and I are pretty good friends," he explained. "I like him and he er hum I'm afraid that paint's kind of thick. Cal'late I'll have to thin it a little." Captain Sam condemned the paint to an eternal blister. "Go on! go on!" he commanded. "What about you and Leander?
"Can't stop," said Scattergood. "I was lookin' for Jed." "Jed's gone," she replied, shortly, the sullen expression returning to her face. "'He won't be back 'fore noon." "Uh-huh!... Wa-al, I calc'late I kin keep on drawin' my breath till then if you kin. I call to mind the time when you was all-fired oneasy if Jed got away from you for six hours in a stretch."
"You don't need ter say anythin'," she interposed cheerfully. "I jest wanted ter make sure where 'twas, so I went up. You see, Jed's comin' home, an' I thought he might feel queer if he run on to it, casual-like." "Jed comin' home!" The old woman smiled oddly. "Oh, I didn't tell ye, did I? The doctor had this telegram yesterday, an' brought it over to me. Ye know he was here last night. Read it."
Jed rubbed his chin. "The which field?" he drawled. "The clam field. The place where Mrs. Smalley's fish man unplants the clams she makes the chowder of. He does it with a sort of hoe thing and puts them in a pail. He was doing it yesterday; I saw him." Jed's eyes twinkled at the word "unplants," but another thought occurred to him.
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