"That's where mother lives," said Mrs. Todd. "Can't we see it
plain? I was brought up out there on Green Island. I know every
rock an' bush on it."
"Your mother!" I exclaimed, with great interest.
"Yes, dear, cert'in; I've got her yet, old's I be. She's one
of them spry, light-footed little women; always was, an' light-
hearted, too," answered Mrs. Todd, with satisfaction. "She's seen
all the trouble folks can see, without it's her last sickness; an'
she's got a word of courage for everybody. Life ain't spoilt her
a mite. She's eighty-six an' I'm sixty-seven, and I've seen the
time I've felt a good sight the oldest. 'Land sakes alive!' says
she, last time I was out to see her. 'How you do lurch about
steppin' into a bo't?' I laughed so I liked to have gone right
over into the water; an' we pushed off, an' left her laughin' there
on the shore."
The light had faded as we watched. Mrs. Todd had mounted a
gray rock, and stood there grand and architectural, like a
caryatide. Presently she stepped down, and we continued our
way homeward.
Pages:
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65