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Updated: June 10, 2025
They embarked upon a wide sea of neighborhood gossip and parish opinions, and at last some one happened to speak again of Thanksgiving, which at once turned the tide of conversation, and it seemed to ebb suddenly, while the gray, dreary look once more overspread Mrs. Thacher's face. "I don't see why you won't keep with our folks this year; you and John," once more suggested Mrs. Martin.
Jacob pushed back his chair another foot or two, and Martin soon followed, mentioning that it was getting hot, but it was well to keep out the damp. "What set the women out to go traipsin' up to Thacher's folks?" inquired Jacob, holding his cider mug with one hand and drumming it with the finger ends of the other.
Mrs. Meeker feigned a great excitement. "I won't keep you but a moment," she said, "but I want to hear what you think about Mis' Thacher's chances." "Mrs. Thacher's?" repeated the doctor, wonderingly. "She's doing well, isn't she? I don't suppose that she will ever be a young woman again." "I don't know why, but I took it for granted that you was goin' there," explained Mrs. Meeker, humbly.
Thacher's annoyance increased. The ordinary caller displaying such persistent curiosity would have been dismissed unceremoniously; but Jethro Hallett was not to be dismissed that way. The captain owned stock in the bank and, before his illness, his name had been seriously considered to fill the first vacancy in its list of directors.
Thacher's face quivered a little as she rose and took one of the candles, and opened the trap door that covered the cellar stairs. "Now don't ye go to makin' yourself work," cried the guests. "No, don't! we ain't needin' nothin'; we was late about supper." But their hostess stepped carefully down and disappeared for a few minutes, while the cat hovered anxiously at the edge of the black pit.
Thacher's "Military Journal of the Revolution." The narrative of Vaughn is gleaned from old residents, Almira Briggs Treadwell, Archibald Dodge, Jane Crane, and others. "Washington Headquarters at Fredricksburgh," by L. S. Patrick; Quaker Hill Series, 1907. This matter is very fully treated in "Washington's Headquarters at Fredericksburgh," by Lewis S. Patrick.
It had been hot, dusty weather until the day and night before, when heavy showers had fallen; the country was looking fresh, and the fields and trees were washed clean at last from the white dust that had powdered them and given the farms a barren and discouraged look. They had come in sight of Mrs. Thacher's house on its high hillside, and were just passing the abode of Mrs.
Nan herself was a teachable child and gave little trouble, and Marilla sometimes congratulated herself because she had reserved the violent objections which had occurred to her mind when the doctor had announced, just before Mrs. Thacher's death, that his ward would henceforth find a home in his house.
As for the apples, they were grown upon an old tree, one of whose limbs had been grafted with some unknown variety of fruit so long ago that the history was forgotten; only that an English gardener, many years before, had brought some cuttings from the old country, and one of them had somehow come into the possession of John Thacher's grandfather when grafted fruit was a thing to be treasured and jealously guarded.
Drake, 1852; and in this connection Hunter's Founders of New Plymouth, London, 1854; Steele's Life of Brewster, Philadelphia, 1857; Goodwin's Pilgrim Republic, Boston, 1887; Bacon's Genesis of the New England Churches, New York, 1874; Baylies's Historical Memoir, 1830; Thacher's History of the Town of Plymouth, 1832.
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