A Modern Cinderella; Or, The Little Old Shoe, and Other StoriesAlcott, Louisa May
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A Modern Cinderella; Or, The Little Old Shoe, and Other Stories
Alcott, Louisa May
Fiction; Short stories
John was not one of those romantic heroes who can go through three
volumes of hair-breadth escapes without the faintest hint of that
blessed institution, dinner; therefore, like "Lady Letherbridge," he
partook, copiously of everything, while the two women beamed over each
mouthful with an interest that enhanced its flavor, and urged upon him
cold meat and cheese, pickles and pie, as if dyspepsia and nightmare
were among the lost arts.
Then he opened his budget of news and fed them.
"I was coming next month, according to custom; but Philip fell upon and
so tempted me, that I was driven to sacrifice myself to the cause of
friendship, and up we came to-night. He would not let me come here
till we had seen your father, Nan; for the poor lad was pining for
Laura, and hoped his good behavior for the past year would satisfy his
judge and secure his recall. We had a fine talk with your father; and,
upon my life, Philip seemed to have received the gift of tongues, for
he made a most eloquent plea, which I've stored away for future use, I
assure you. The dear old gentleman was very kind, told Phil he was
satisfied with the success of his probation, that he should see Laura
when he liked, and, if all went well, should receive his reward in the
spring. It must be a delightful sensation to know you have made a
fellow-creature as happy as those words made Phil to-night."
John paused, and looked musingly at the matronly tea-pot, as if he saw
a wondrous future in its shine.
Nan twinkled off the drops that rose at the thought of Laura's joy, and
said, with grateful warmth,--
"You say nothing of your own share in the making of that happiness,
John; but we know it, for Philip has told Laura in his letters all that
you have been to him, and I am sure there was other eloquence beside
his own before father granted all you say he has. Oh, John, I thank
you very much for this!"
Mrs. Lord beamed a whole midsummer of delight upon her son, as she saw
the pleasure these words gave him, though he answered simply,--
"I only tried to be a brother to him, Nan; for he has been most kind to
me. Yes, I said my little say to-night, and gave my testimony in
behalf of the prisoner at the bar; a most merciful judge pronounced his
sentence, and he rushed straight to Mrs. Leigh's to tell Laura the
blissful news. Just imagine the scene when he appears, and how Di will
open her wicked eyes and enjoy the spectacle of the dishevelled lover,
the bride-elect's tears, the stir, and the romance of the thing.
She'll cry over it to-night, and caricature it to-morrow."
And John led the laugh at the picture he had conjured up, to turn the
thoughts of Di's dangerous sister from himself.
At ten Nan retired into the depths of her old bonnet with a far
different face from the one she brought out of it, and John, resuming
his hat, mounted guard.
"Don't stay late, remember, John!" And in Mrs. Lord's voice there was a
warning tone that her son interpreted aright.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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