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” ‘I want you to neighbor with that poor lonesome creatur’,’ says mother to me, lookin’ reproachful.’She’s a stranger in a strange land,’ says mother.’I want you to make her have a sense that somebody feels kind to her.’

“‘Why, since that time she flaunted out o’ meetin’, folks have felt she liked other ways better’n our’n,’ says I. I was provoked, because I’d had a nice supper ready, an’ mother’d let it wait so long ’twas spoiled.’I hope you’ll like your supper!’ I told her. I was dreadful ashamed afterward of speakin’ so to mother.

“‘What consequence is my supper?’ says she to me; mother can be very stern, — ‘or your comfort or mine, beside letting a foreign person an’ a stranger feel so desolate; she’s done the best a woman could do in her lonesome place, and she asks nothing of anybody except a little common kindness. Think if ’twas you in a foreign land!’

“And mother set down to drink her tea, an’ I set down humbled enough over by the wall to wait till she finished. An’ I did think it all over, an’ next day I never said nothin’, but I put on my bonnet, and went to see Mis’ Cap’n Tolland, if ’twas only for mother’s sake.’Twas about three quarters of a mile up the road here, beyond the schoolhouse. I forgot to tell you
that the cap’n had bought out his sister’s right at three or four times what ’twas worth, to save trouble, so they’d got clear o’ her, an’ I went round into the side yard sort o’ friendly an’ sociable, rather than stop an’ deal with the knocker an’ the front door. It looked so pleasant an’ pretty I was glad I come; she had set a little table for supper, though ’twas still early, with a white cloth on it, right out under an old apple tree close by the house. I noticed ’twas same as with me at home, there was only one plate. She was just coming out with a dish; you couldn’t see the door nor the table from the road.

“In the few weeks she’d been there she’d got some bloomin’ pinks an’ other flowers next the doorstep. Somehow it looked as if she’d known how to make it homelike for the cap’n. She asked me to set down; she was very polite, but she looked very mournful, and I spoke of mother, an’ she put down her dish and caught holt o’ me with both hands an’ said my mother was an angel. When I see the tears in her eyes ’twas all right between us, and we were always friendly after that, and mother had us come out and make a little visit that summer; but she come a foreigner and she went a foreigner, and never was anything but a stranger among our folks. She taught me a sight o’ things about herbs I never knew before nor since; she was well acquainted with the virtues o’ plants. She’d act awful secret about some things too, an’ used to work charms for herself sometimes, an’ some o’ the neighbors told to an’ fro after she died that they knew enough not to provoke her, but ’twas all nonsense; ’tis the believin’ in such things that causes ’em to be any harm, an’ so I told ’em,” confided Mrs. Todd contemptuously.”That first night I stopped to tea with her she’d cooked some eggs with some herb or other sprinkled all through, and ’twas she that first led me to discern mushrooms; an’ she went right down on her knees in my garden here when she saw I had my different officious herbs. Yes, ’twas she that learned me the proper use o’ parsley too; she was a beautiful cook.”