Americans -- England -- Fiction; Girls -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction
I'm afraid it was rather a late breakfast, and the lobby was full of
people strolling in and out when I went through on my way to my room. I
stood for a moment at the dining-room door looking at the lobby--I had
heard so many Chicago people describe it--and I noticed in the seats
that run around it, against the wall, two young women. They were leaning
back nonchalantly, watching the comers and the goers. Both of them had
their knees crossed, and one had her hands in her jacket pockets. A man
in the seat next them, who might or might not have belonged to them, was
smoking a large cigar. Two English ladies came out from breakfast behind
me, stood waiting for somebody, and said one to the other: 'Look at
those disgusting American girls!'
But I had seen the young women's boots. Just to be satisfied, I walked
up to one of them, and asked her if she could kindly tell me when I
ought to post letters for New York.
'The American maiyel goes out Wednesdays an' Satuhdays, I fancy,' the
young woman replied, 'but I'm not suah; it would be saifah to ask the
clahk!'
She spoke quite distinctly, so that the English ladies must have heard
her, and I am afraid they saw in my glance as I went upstairs that I had
intended to correct their mistake.
I started to see Mrs. Portheris at eleven o'clock on the morning of the
9th of April--a lovely day, a day which augured brightly and hopefully.
I waited carefully till eleven, thinking by that time my relation would
have had her breakfast in bed and been dressed, and perhaps have been
helped downstairs to her own particular sunny window, where I thought I
might see her faded, placid, sweet old face looking up from her knitting
and out into the busy street. Words have such an inspiring effect upon
the imagination. All this had emanated from the 'dear ones,' and I felt
confident and pleased and happy beforehand to be a dear one. I wore one
of my plainest walking-dresses--I love simplicity in dress--so as to
mitigate the shock to my relation as far as I could; but it was a
New York one, and it gave me a great deal of moral support. It may be
weak-minded in me, but I simply couldn't have gone to see my relation in
a hat and gloves that didn't match. Clothes and courage have so much to
do with each other.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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