The Hiltons’ Holiday Page #4

"The Hiltons’ Holiday" by Sarah Orne Jewett is a charming short story that captures the essence of family dynamics and the joys of rural life. Set against the backdrop of a small New England town, the narrative follows the Hilton family as they embark on a holiday adventure. Through rich characterizations and vivid descriptions, Jewett explores themes of tradition, community, and the simple pleasures found in nature and familial connections. The story reflects the author's signature style, combining warmth and humor while offering insights into the everyday lives of her characters.

• Short story

								

school in our district when father married her—that’s the main reason I
backed ’em down when they wanted to tear the old schoolhouse all to
pieces,” confided John Hilton, turning eagerly. “They all say she lived
longer up here on the hill than she could anywhere, but she never had
her health. I wa’n’t but a boy when she died. Father an’ me lived alone
afterward till the time your mother come; ’twas a good while, too; I
wa’n’t married so young as some. ’Twas lonesome, I tell you; father was
plumb discouraged losin’ of his wife, an’ her long sickness an’ all set
him back, an’ we’d work all day on the land an’ never say a word. I
s’pose ’tis bein’ so lonesome early in life that makes me so pleased to
have some nice girls growin’ up round me now.”

There was a tone in her father’s voice that drew Katy’s heart toward him
with new affection. She dimly understood, but Susan Ellen was less
interested. They had often heard this story before, but to one child it
was always new and to the other old. Susan Ellen was apt to think it
tiresome to hear about her grandmother, who, being dead, was hardly
worth talking about.

“There’s Judge Masterson’s place,” said their father in an every-day
manner, as they turned a corner, and came into full view of the
beautiful old white house standing behind its green trees and terraces
and lawns. The children had never imagined anything so stately and fine,
and even Susan Ellen exclaimed with pleasure. At that moment they saw an
old gentleman, who carried himself with great dignity, coming slowly
down the wide box-bordered path toward the gate.

“There he is now, there’s the judge!” whispered John Hilton excitedly,
reining his horse quickly to the green roadside. “He’s goin’ down-town
to his office; we can wait right here an’ see him. I can’t expect him to
remember me; it’s been a good many years. Now you are goin’ to see the
great Judge Masterson!”

There was a quiver of expectation in their hearts. The judge stopped at
his gate, hesitating a moment before he lifted the latch, and glanced up
the street at the country wagon with its two prim little girls on the
back seat, and the eager man who drove. They seemed to be waiting for
something; the old horse was nibbling at the fresh roadside grass. The
judge was used to being looked at with interest, and responded now with
a smile as he came out to the sidewalk, and unexpectedly turned their
way. Then he suddenly lifted his hat with grave politeness, and came
directly toward them.

“Good-morning, Mr. Hilton,” he said. “I am very glad to see you, sir;”
and Mr. Hilton, the little girls’ own father, took off his hat with
equal courtesy, and bent forward to shake hands.

Susan Ellen cowered and wished herself away, but little Katy sat
straighter than ever, with joy in her father’s pride and pleasure
shining in her pale, flower-like little face.

“These are your daughters, I am sure,” said the old gentleman kindly,
taking Susan Ellen’s limp and reluctant hand; but when he looked at
Katy, his face brightened. “How she recalls your mother!” he said with
great feeling. “I am glad to see this dear child. You must come to see
me with your father, my dear,” he added, still looking at her. “Bring
both the little girls, and let them run about the old garden; the
cherries are just getting ripe,” said Judge Masterson hospitably.
“Perhaps you will have time to stop this afternoon as you go home?”

“I should call it a great pleasure if you would come and see us again
some time. You may be driving our way, sir,” said John Hilton.

“Not very often in these days,” answered the old judge. “I thank you for
the kind invitation. I should like to see the fine view again from your
hill westward. Can I serve you in any way while you are in town?
Good-by, my little friends!”

Then they parted, but not before Katy, the shy Katy, whose band the
judge still held unconsciously while he spoke, had reached forward as he
said good-by, and lifted her face to kiss him. She could not have told
why, except that she felt drawn to something in the serious, worn face.
For the first time in her life the child had felt the charm of manners;
perhaps she owned a kinship between that which made him what he was, and
the spark of nobleness and purity in her own simple soul. She turned
again and again to look back at him as they drove away.

“Now you have seen one of the first gentlemen in the country,” said
their father. “It was worth comin’ twice as far”—but he did not say any
more, nor turn as usual to look in the children’s faces.

In the chief business street of Topham a great many country wagons like
the Hiltons’ were fastened to the posts, and there seemed to our
holiday-makers to be a great deal of noise and excitement.

“Now I’ve got to do my errands, and we can let the horse rest and feed,”
said John Hilton. “I’ll slip his headstall right off, an’ put on his
halter. I’m goin’ to buy him a real good treat o’ oats. First we’ll go
an’ buy me my straw hat; I feel as if this one looked a little past to
wear in Topham. We’ll buy the things we want, an’ then we’ll walk all
along the street, so you can look in the windows an’ see the han’some
things, same’s your mother likes to. What was it mother told you about
your shawls?”

“To take ’em off an’ carry ’em over our arms,” piped Susan Ellen,
without comment, but in the interest of alighting and finding themselves
afoot upon the pavement the shawls were forgotten. The children stood at
the doorway of a shop while their father went inside, and they tried to
see what the Topham shapes of bonnets were like, as their mother had
advised them; but everything was exciting and confusing, and they could
arrive at no decision. When Mr. Hilton came out with a hat in his hand
to be seen in a better light, Katy whispered that she wished he would
buy a shiny one like Judge Masterson’s; but her father only smiled and
shook his head, and said that they were plain folks, he and Katy. There
were dry-goods for sale in the same shop, and a young clerk who was
measuring linen kindly pulled off some pretty labels with gilded edges
and gay pictures, and gave them to the little girls, to their exceeding
joy. He may have had small sisters at home, this friendly lad, for he
took pains to find two pretty blue boxes besides, and was rewarded by
their beaming gratitude.

It was a famous day; they even became used to seeing so many people
pass. The village was full of its morning activity, and Susan Ellen
gained a new respect for her father, and an increased sense of her own
consequence, because even in Topham several persons knew him and called
him familiarly by name. The meeting with an old man who had once been a
neighbor seemed to give Mr. Hilton the greatest pleasure. The old man
called to them from a house doorway as they were passing, and they all
went in. The children seated themselves wearily on the wooden step, but
their father shook his old friend eagerly by the hand, and declared that
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