A Collection of Stories, Reviews and EssaysCather, Willa
General
A Collection of Stories, Reviews and Essays
Cather, Willa
Essays; Short stories; United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
"William, I don't think it would hurt you to let the boys go to that
circus in town to-morrow."
William continued to read his farm paper, but it was not Hester's
custom to wait for an answer. She usually divined his arguments and
assailed them one by one before he uttered them.
"You've been short of hands all summer, and you've worked the boys
hard, and a man ought use his own flesh and blood as well as he does
his hired hands. We're plenty able to afford it, and it's little
enough our boys ever spend. I don't see how you can expect 'em to be
steady and hard workin', unless you encourage 'em a little. I never
could see much harm in circuses, and our boys have never been to
one. Oh, I know Jim Howley's boys get drunk an' carry on when they
go, but our boys ain't that sort, an' you know it, William. The
animals are real instructive, an' our boys don't get to see much out
here on the prairie. It was different where we were raised, but the
boys have got no advantages here, an' if you don't take care,
they'll grow up to be greenhorns."
Hester paused a moment, and William folded up his paper, but
vouchsafed no remark. His sisters in Virginia had often said that
only a quiet man like William could ever have lived with Hester
Perkins. Secretly, William was rather proud of his wife's "gift of
speech," and of the fact that she could talk in prayer meeting as
fluently as a man. He confined his own efforts in that line to a
brief prayer at Covenant meetings.
Hester shook out another sock and went on.
"Nobody was ever hurt by goin' to a circus. Why, law me! I remember
I went to one myself once, when I was little. I had most forgot
about it. It was over at Pewtown, an' I remember how I had set my
heart on going. I don't think I'd ever forgiven my father if he
hadn't taken me, though that red clay road was in a frightful way
after the rain. I mind they had an elephant and six poll parrots,
an' a Rocky Mountain lion, an' a cage of monkeys, an' two camels.
My! but they were a sight to me then!"
Hester dropped the black sock and shook her head and smiled at the
recollection. She was not expecting anything from William yet, and
she was fairly startled when he said gravely, in much the same tone
in which he announced the hymns in prayer meeting:
"No, there was only one camel. The other was a dromedary."
She peered around the lamp and looked at him keenly.
"Why, William, how come you to know?"
William folded his paper and answered with some hesitation, "I was
there, too."
Hester's interest flashed up.--"Well, I never, William! To think of
my finding it out after all these years! Why, you couldn't have been
much bigger'n our Billy then. It seems queer I never saw you when
you was little, to remember about you. But then you Back Creek folks
never have anything to do with us Gap people. But how come you to
go? Your father was stricter with you than you are with your boys."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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