Short stories, American; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
and reproachful that they could not see for themselves the possible
dangers in small Rosie’s path. “In place of first,” he explained, “der
was de cleanness--she mighd get dirty de garden in! Den,” his eyes
grew round at that, “der vas de red-peppers--she might touch dem and
aftervards rup her sveet eyes!” but when at the end of a long list of
possibilities, he cried out: “Unt dem pees--dem honey pees--what pite
mit dere tails--suppose dey make mit dere stingers on her? Ach Gott!
Ach Gott!” and, caught in a linguistic tangle, he fell into deep Dutch,
from which he emerged breathless and excited. Now that is a condition
no Dutchman will endure, so without apology, he trotted off home to
soothe himself with the one smoke he allowed himself each day, and
then to--rest? Oh, no, there was much work done in that small house by
night as well as by day--and mind, there are old neighbors still to
support this statement--they used actually to work in the garden by
moonlight--not habitually, but often enough, Heaven knows! And what was
the object of all this ceaseless labor--of their astonishing economies?
Before the coming of their baby girl, they had been little more than
two patient, dumb beasts of burden. Born and bred to work--they
worked--but dully--without hope or special object--but when God had
sent into their lives that laughing, pretty thing, and formed her
delicately that she might arouse their tenderness, they had changed.
They looked at one another, and each, smiling, saw the other anew.
They dreamed for her--they hoped now for her--they prayed now heavy,
laborious, loving prayers for her. Truly she had been the “locust and
wild honey” that fed them in their wilderness--so now it was for her
they labored and were therefore never tired.
As the years passed I, who had long since ceased to live in S----
street, often went there to visit my friends who had remained, stopping
with them from Saturday till Monday, and these visits kept me still in
touch with “Little Knights” and his idol. It seemed strange that Rosie
was quite unspoiled by so much adulation. She was a favorite with all
the neighbors, was polite and obedient outside her own domain, while
within it, an absolute monarch, she ruled with gentlest strength her
idolatrous subjects. Derision or contempt shown to them was swiftly and
sharply resented by her, while the only time she had to sternly exert
her authority was when she made some demand upon the treasury that was
for _their_ benefit instead of hers.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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