The Feast’s End Page #2

"The Feast's End" by Sarah Orne Jewett is a nuanced exploration of the complexities of human relationships and social dynamics in a small New England town. Set against the backdrop of a festive gathering, the narrative delves into the subtleties of conversation, unspoken emotions, and the fragile connections between the characters. Jewett's keen observations and richly detailed prose illuminate the interplay of joy and melancholy, as the characters navigate their personal hopes and disappointments, ultimately reflecting on the fleeting nature of happiness and community. Through this intimate portrait, Jewett captures the essence of life’s transient moments and the enduring bonds that tie us together.

• Short story

								

had been so kindly entertained with doughnuts earlier in the day, and
found it closed and deserted, which was a disappointment.

“They must have stopped to tea somewheres and thought they’d finish up
the day,” said Mrs. Todd. “Those that enjoyed it best’ll want to get
right home so’s to think it over.”

“I didn’t see the woman there after all, did you?” asked Mrs. Blackett
as the horse stopped to drink at the trough.

“Oh yes, I spoke with her,” answered Mrs. Todd, with but scant interest
or approval. “She ain’t a member o’ our family.”

“I thought you said she resembled Cousin Pa’lina Bowden about the
forehead,” suggested Mrs. Blackett.

“Well, she don’t,” answered Mrs. Todd impatiently. “I ain’t one that’s
ord’narily mistaken about family likenesses, and she didn’t seem to meet
with friends, so I went square up to her. ‘I expect you’re a Bowden by
your looks,’ says I. ‘Yes, I take it you’re one o’ the Bowdens.’ ‘Lor’,
no,’ says she. ‘Dennett was my maiden name, but I married a Bowden for
my first husband. I thought I’d come an’ just see what was a-goin’ on’!”

Mrs. Blackett laughed heartily. “I’m goin’ to remember to tell William
o’ that,” she said. “There, Almiry, the only thing that’s troubled me
all this day is to think how William would have enjoyed it. I do so wish
William had been there.”

“I sort of wish he had, myself,” said Mrs. Todd frankly.

“There wa’n’t many old folks there, somehow,” said Mrs. Blackett, with a
touch of sadness in her voice. “There ain’t so many to come as there
used to be, I’m aware, but I expected to see more.”

“I thought they turned out pretty well, when you come to think of it;
why, everybody was sayin’ so an’ feelin’ gratified,” answered Mrs. Todd
hastily with pleasing unconsciousness; then I saw the quick color flash
into her cheek, and presently she made some excuse to turn and steal an
anxious look at her mother. Mrs. Blackett was smiling and thinking about
her happy day, though she began to look a little tired. Neither of my
companions was troubled by her burden of years. I hoped in my heart that
I might be like them as I lived on into age, and then smiled to think
that I too was no longer very young. So we always keep the same hearts,
though our outer framework fails and shows the touch of time.

“’Twas pretty when they sang the hymn, wasn’t it?” asked Mrs. Blackett
at supper-time, with real enthusiasm. “There was such a plenty o’ men’s
voices; where I sat it did sound beautiful. I had to stop and listen
when they came to the last verse.”

I saw that Mrs. Todd’s broad shoulders began to shake. “There was good
singers there; yes, there was excellent singers,” she agreed heartily,
putting down her tea-cup, “but I chanced to drift alongside Mis’ Peter
Bowden o’ Great Bay, an’ I couldn’t help thinkin’ if she was as far out
o’ town as she was out o’ tune, she wouldn’t get back in a day.”
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