In Summer Weather

"In Summer Weather" by Sarah Orne Jewett is a short story that captures the essence of a New England summer through the lens of rural life and relationships. The narrative unfolds in a picturesque setting, exploring themes of nature, community, and the passage of time. Through rich descriptions and keen observations, Jewett immerses readers in the simple joys and complexities of life, illustrating how the warmth of the season can evoke both nostalgia and reflection. The story highlights the intimate connections between characters as they navigate their experiences in the bucolic landscapes, offering a glimpse into the profound beauty found in everyday moments.

• Short story

								
One morning Dr. Leslie remembered an old patient whom he liked to go
to see now and then, perhaps more from the courtesy and friendliness
of the thing than from any hope of giving professional assistance. The
old sailor, Captain Finch, had long before been condemned as
unseaworthy, having suffered for many years from the effects of a bad
fall on shipboard. He was a cheerful and wise person, and the doctor
was much attached to him, besides knowing that he had borne his
imprisonment with great patience, for his life on one of the most
secluded farms of the region, surrounded by his wife's kinsfolk, who
were all landsmen, could hardly be called anything else. The doctor
had once made a voyage to Fayal and from thence to England in a
sailing-vessel, having been somewhat delicate in health in his younger
days, and this made him a more intelligent listener to the captain's
stories than was often available.

Dr. Leslie had brought his case of medicines from mere force of habit,
but by way of special prescription he had taken also a generous
handful of his best cigars, and wrapped them somewhat clumsily in one
of the large sheets of letter-paper which lay on his study table near
by. Also he had stopped before the old sideboard in the carefully
darkened dining-room, and taken a bottle of wine from one of its
cupboards. "This will do him more good than anything, poor old
fellow," he told himself, with a sudden warmth in his own heart and a
feeling of grateful pleasure because he had thought of doing the
kindness.

Marilla called eagerly from the kitchen window to ask where he was
going, putting her hand out hastily to part the morning-glory vines,
which had climbed their strings and twisted their stems together until
they shut out the world from their planter's sight. But the doctor
only answered that he should be back at dinner time, and settled
himself comfortably in his carriage, smiling as he thought of
Marilla's displeasure. She seldom allowed a secret to escape her, if
she were once fairly on the scent of it, though she grumbled now, and
told herself that she only cared to know for the sake of the people
who might come, or to provide against the accident of his being among
the missing in case of sudden need. She found life more interesting
when there was even a small mystery to be puzzled over. It was
impossible for Dr. Leslie to resist teasing his faithful hand-maiden
once in a while, but he did it with proper gravity and respect, and
their friendship was cemented by these sober jokes rather than torn
apart.

The horse knew as well as his master that nothing of particular
importance was in hand, and however well he always caught the spirit
of the occasion when there was need for hurry, he now jogged along the
road, going slowly where the trees cast a pleasant shade, and paying
more attention to the flies than to anything else. The doctor seemed
to be in deep thought, and old Major understood that no notice was to
be taken of constant slight touches of the whip which his master held
carelessly. 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. Meeker, which was close by the
roadside in the low land. This was a small, weather-beaten dwelling,
and the pink and red hollyhocks showed themselves in fine array
against its gray walls. Its mistress's prosaic nature had one most
redeeming quality in her love for flowers and her gift in making them
grow, and the doctor forgave her many things for the sake of the
bright little garden in the midst of the sandy lands which surrounded
her garden with their unshaded barrenness. The road that crossed these
was hot in summer and swept by bitter winds in winter. It was like a
bit of desert dropped by mistake among the green farms and spring-fed
forests that covered the rest of the river uplands.

No sentinel was ever more steadfast to his duty in time of war and
disorder than Mrs. Meeker, as she sat by the front window, from which
she could see some distance either way along the crooked road. She was
often absent from her own house to render assistance of one sort or
another among her neighbors, but if she were at home it was impossible
for man, woman, or child to go by without her challenge or careful
inspection. She made couriers of her neighbors, and sent these errand
men and women along the country roads or to the village almost daily.
She was well posted in the news from both the village and the country
side, and however much her acquaintances scolded about her, they found
it impossible to resist the fascination of her conversation, and few
declined to share in the banquet of gossip which she was always ready
to spread. She was quick witted, and possessed of many resources and
much cleverness of a certain sort; but it must be confessed that she
had done mischief in her day, having been the murderer of more than
one neighbor's peace of mind and the assailant of many a reputation.
But if she were a dangerous inmate of one's household, few were so
attractive or entertaining for the space of an afternoon visit, and it
was usually said, when she was seen approaching, that she would be
sure to have something to tell. Out in the country, where so many
people can see nothing new from one week's end to the other, it is,
after all, a great pleasure to have the latest particulars brought to
one's door, as a townsman's newspaper is.

Mrs. Meeker knew better than to stop Dr. Leslie if he were going
anywhere in a hurry; she had been taught this lesson years ago; but
when she saw him journeying in such a leisurely way some instinct
assured her of safety, and she came out of her door like a
Jack-in-the-box, while old Major, only too ready for a halt, stood
still in spite of a desperate twitch of the reins, which had as much
effect as pulling at a fish-hook which has made fast to an anchor.
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. "She has seemed to me as if she
was failing all summer. I was up there last night, and I never said so
to her, but she had aged dreadfully. I wonder if it's likely she's had
a light shock? Sometimes the fust one's kind o' hidden; comes by night
or somethin', and folks don't know till they begins to feel the damage
of it."

"She hasn't looked very well of late," said the doctor. For once in

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