Bobbie, General Manager: A NovelProuty, Olive Higgins
General
Bobbie, General Manager: A Novel
Prouty, Olive Higgins
Families -- Fiction; New England -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction
It occurred at four o'clock this afternoon. I had bought a bunch of
primroses from a man on the street five minutes before. I was on my
way home from a shopping tour, and with my pretty early-spring flowers
tucked in at my waist, and my hands full of packages, I turned up
Charles Street as unconcerned as you please. At the corner I bowed to
our minister's wife, and the remains of the smile were still on my
face, I suppose, when I saw Dr. Maynard. I didn't know that he was on
this side of the ocean, and when I observed him coming down the steps
of the postoffice--vigorous and strong and buoyant--I stood still in
my tracks, and the remains of the smile turned into something startled
and afraid. Dr. Maynard approached me all aglow, stretched out his hand
and took mine in a warm, firm grasp. A thrill went through me like a
knife. He was as natural as day, beautifully tanned, smiling, big,
broad-shouldered as ever, and yet different--oh, awfully different.
"Hello, Bobbie," he said in his hearty old voice, and I looked back at
him, perfectly white--I could feel that I was--and speechless. "Don't
be a goose. It's just Dr. Maynard," I tried to reason with myself.
"Am I speaking to Miss Lucy Vars?" I heard asked of me. "Miss Lucy
Chenery Vars, of 240 Main Street, Hilton, Mass.?"
I nodded, and somewhere down there in the chaos in my chest, I found my
poor little voice. "Is it _you_?" I asked shakily.
"Well, I'm not quite sure. Nothing looks very natural around here. I'm
beginning to think I'm somebody else."
"Well, I _am_ surprised!" I exploded. "I certainly _am_ surprised!
Why, I never _was_ so surprised!" I stopped a minute. Dr. Maynard was
smiling right down into my eyes. "I never was so surprised in all my
life!" I repeated, as if I hadn't another idea in my head.
He leaned down just here and picked up a half-dozen bundles, more or
less, that I had dropped when we shook hands.
"I better help you carry some of these home, hadn't I?" he suggested.
"Oh, yes, _do_," I replied eagerly, and somehow we managed to walk back
to the house together.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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