Going to Shrewsbury

by Sarah Orne Jewett

The train stopped slowly at the little station and there was only just time for one old passenger to hurry on before the engine moved so suddenly that she nearly fell over. At first I saw only an old woman, with a large basket and a heavy package. Then I noticed that she was a friend of mine, Mrs. Peet, who lived on a small farm quite some way from the village. She used to be well-known for good butter, fresh eggs and vegetables - in fact, she had always got the best produce out of her farm - but it was some time since I had seen her drive by in her old horse and cart. I asked Mrs. Peet to sit by me; it was pleasant to see her again. The man helping her seemed happy she had someone she knew to talk to, and smiled as he tried to put part of her luggage above her seat. But even the smallest bag was much too large and he explained that he would put everything on the floor and seats. Mrs. Peet was not large, but with the big basket and the package and some bags of my own we had very little spare room.

"So this is a train!" said my friend, as soon as she had sat down comfortably. She looked pale and as if she had been crying, but there was the usual happy expression in her tired old eyes.

"Where are you going, Mrs. Peet?" I asked.

"Didn't you hear about me, dear?" she asked. "Well, I'm leaving here and moving to Shrewsbury."

"To Shrewsbury? Have you sold the farm?" I said, with sadness and surprise. Mrs. Peet was too old to move suddenly from her home and I was shocked.

"The farm wasn't mine." Her pleasant face grew sad. "My husband was tricked into giving it away before he died. His sister's son, Isaiah, came one day and said he would do the farm work for him as he was too old. Then he said we owed him money for the work, and then that I owed taxes on the farm. I tried to pay everything but I couldn't get him all he wanted. I thought he wouldn't mind because he was family.

"It's really hurt me to lose my home to someone else. Friends have said I should go to court but Isaiah is cleverer than me in things like that. You see he says that he has my name on a paper which makes the taxes my responsibility. I didn't have much money and I was just too tired, with no sleep because of the worry. After I worked so hard for forty-five years to save enough money for when I'm too old to work, here I am! All my life I tried to be careful with money but we lost our savings when that factory went broke. But I could have looked after myself with what I get from the farm if I'd kept it. I'd have let him have the wood if he'd wanted it. But now .... I've always wanted to travel and see the world, but now I can, I don't want to."

"Shrewsbury is a nice place," I said, but my heart was filled with rage at Isaiah Peet's tricks. He'd always looked like a fox and behaved like one.

"So people tell me," said the poor woman "but, dear, it's hard to live far from where you had your home and have your friends. You may as well put one of my old apple trees in the sand by the sea and hope it likes it."

"Where are you going to live in Shrewsbury?" I asked.

"I don't expect to be there for long, dear. I'm seventy-six years old." And Mrs. Peet turned to look at me with sad humour in her honest old face. "I said right out to him, before a roomful of the neighbours, that I expected him to get me home and bury me when my time came and to do it with full respect; but I wanted to make my own living, if I could, till then. He'd been lying, you see, about my choosing to leave the farm and going to live with my own people, but" - and she whispered this carefully - "he didn't give me a chance to stay there without making me feel that I was depending on him. I have not said that to many people because there are some who owe him money and are scared of him, but I think they all know what's gone on. Ah well, dear, it's happened now and there's nothing I can do about it. The best thing is to forget all about it and live for the present." I saw great tears move slowly down her cheeks although she looked the other way.

There looks like there's plenty of good farming land in this part of the country," she said, a minute later. "Where are we now? See those nice farm buildings? He must be a rich man." But I had to tell her that we had still not left our own town. Mrs. Peet gave a pleased little laugh, like a girl. "I keep thinking we'll be in Shrewsbury soon and am scared of missing my stop. I've never been on a train before. It's like flying in the air. Everything is going past so quickly I can't see anything. Oh, I must check on my cat. Did I tell you she came with me?"

"Is she in that basket?" I asked.

"Yes, dear. In truth I was going to have her put to sleep so she wouldn't be scared of moving. A farm boy was going to do it for me but when the time came, he wasn't around and it gave me a good reason to pack her up and bring her with me. Well she's old, like me. And there are probably mice where we're going, so she'll be useful. I think we're both going to miss our old home. I'd love to know what I am going to do to keep busy".

"You mustn't worry," I answered as hopefully as I could. "Your niece will be pleased to have you with her. Is she one of Mrs. Winn's daughters?"

"Oh no, they can't take me. This one is my sister Wayland's daughter, Isabella, who's married well and is so ambitious. The last time I saw her was her wedding, but I asked her because there was no-one else to take me, just until I found something else. She wrote back, though not very quickly, saying for me to come.

"Some friends asked me to spend at least the winter with them. They're very kind. This morning I really wanted to say yes, as leaving was so hard. But now I've left, it's for the best. I just couldn't stay near my old home and see him doing things to it that I wouldn't be able to stop. It's hard that I never had children. I might even have left the farm to Isaiah, even the way he is. If he'd been mine, he wouldn't have grown up into such a bad man. People don't behave like wild animals for no reason. He's a fox and his mother was a fox. Maybe we shouldn't blame him so much as her".

I let her talk. Her head and heart were too full of the great crisis in her quiet life to think about anybody else. I thought of ways I could help. Maybe the law could get him to give back the farm he had stolen. But even then, how many years could she live on her own without help? Maybe her unmarried nieces could come back and live with her when she became too weak and old to run it for herself. However, even the kindest-hearted people might worry about caring for an old relative and a farm. Well we'd soon know what life in Shrewsbury would be like for her. We had already travelled more than half the journey there.

But a welcome change came over her. She now began to forget her own troubles and look around her. She was an alert, quickly interested old dear, and this was a bit of peace between the farm and Shrewsbury. She had lived through this terrible time at the end of her old life: Shrewsbury might be on the other side of the world for all she knew about it. But, for the time being, she was simply a traveller and began to comment shrewdly and not too politely about two or three people sitting near us.

"Where do you think they're going?" she asked. "They look like they were thrown out of their last job and now have to look for something else. Where do all these people on the train come from? They can't all be honest! Half of them look like thieves. But we can't all be good."

I was glad to have Mrs. Peet amused and we were as happy as we could be for a few minutes. She said seriously that she hoped to be forgiven for such talk, but there were some kinds of people on the train that she never had seen before. When they came to take her ticket, she turned sad again.

"You'll have to look after me, dear, when we get to Shrewsbury," she said, after we had found the ticket. The cat had almost escaped and the package had broken and everything fallen on the floor. There was a metal box for keeping matches, an old blanket that I had often seen her wearing over her thin shoulders on the way to market, and a broom. It was a sad collection of all her little things and I was very sorry to see them.

"I don't know. Shrewsbury may be a first-class town. When I remember how many times on a Monday morning, I thought to myself that there was all the washing to be done and how my life was just the same old thing again and again but that there was no way out of it. And now I'm out. Maybe my sister Winn's girls could rent a little place with the little bit of money I've got with me and I could do all the housekeeping for them. Of course, this wouldn't have happened if all our savings hadn't gone into that factory. My man was always a bit too fast in thinking. I only hope that he can't see where he is that I'm not on the farm anymore. He always thought Isaiah would look after me, although he was angry as he could be when he knew about the paper I'd signed. Everyone always knew me for a smart woman, but handwriting's very hard to follow and it was a hot day and I just felt like my head wasn't working anymore.

"I ain't going to laze around. They'll be surprised when they see what a woman of my age can do. Isabella never did like housework and so I might take charge of the kitchen or the four little girls - at least, it was four when I last heard. But they'll be grown now. What am I thinking? Time does go by! Anyway, I always wanted to see the way things were done away from home, if they were different, and now I'll get the chance. And who knows?

When she had finished chatting about the opportunities her future in Shrewsbury might bring her, I asked if anyone was going to meet her at the railway station, although I could not really believe that she wouln't return to her old farm after a short stay with her family. She said I did not need to be worried about her, as a boy was coming to meet her.

As we got near the railway junction, where she was going to get off the train, she became more impatient and the cat in her basket seemed to sense this and started to jump around angrily, trying to get out. A man came to help her off the train and carried most of her luggage for her - even the basket with the cat in. Mrs. Peet held her package very tight to her chest, like it was all she had in the world. As I said goodbye, I was ready to cry and, I think, so was she. It was so sad to see this worn, thin old woman adventuring alone across the platform.

Just before she got off the train, she had a sudden thought:

"Oh. I ain't asked about your parents. You'll think me so rude."

The next spring, I was riding past her farm and wondered how old Mrs. Peet was doing, as, apart from a short note to tell me she had arrived safely, I had heard nothing from her all winter. As chance would have it, her nephew Isaiah was passing on his horse:

"Old Aunt Peet's passed away," he informed me quickly. "She had a shock, and died suddenly yesterday forenoon. I'm making the funeral arrangements. She never enjoyed herself so much as she has this past month. She was a very hard-working woman. Her family were glad to have her there. This farm here never was any good. The old gentleman, - uncle, you know, - he wore himself out trying to make a living from it."

It seemed to me as if I had known Mrs. Peet better than anyone else had known her. I had counted on seeing her again, and hearing her own opinion of Shrewsbury life. I wondered what became of the cat and the package.