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
Father said, "Oh, come, Lucy, let us not quarrel;" Ruth went over and
sat on the arm of Oliver's chair (she always sides with the twins); and
my older brother Alec just looked hard at his magazine.
There was a long silence and then I got up and walked over to Alec. I
took the magazine out of his hand. I was calm now.
"Alec, what do _you_ think about my going away?" I said.
He looked up and smiled his kind, tired smile at me. Then he took my
hand but I drew it away quickly, turned and sat down on the arm of the
Morris-chair in which he was sitting, with my back square to him. His
gentle voice came to me from over my shoulder.
"Well, Lucy," he said, "you see, you've been working so hard for us
all here, for so many years, that I think, too, you've earned a little
vacation. You've been such a splendid mother to us--such a perfect
little housekeeper, that now I'd like to see you less hard-worked. We
don't want to cheat you of your girlhood. We want you to have all the
good times, and gaieties, and clothes, and things like that, that other
girls have."
Ah, yes! I saw finally. They were ashamed of me. Even Alec was ashamed
of me. I was not like other girls. I was plain and awkward and wore
ugly clothes. I wasn't pretty. They wanted to send me away as if I were
an old dented spoon to be straightened and polished at the jeweller's.
When Alec paused he put his arm over in front of me so that it lay in
my lap. At the touch of it the sobs seemed suddenly to rise up in my
throat, pressing after each other as if they were anxious to get out
into the air, and I rose quickly, pushed Alec's arm away and left the
room. They mustn't see--oh, no, they mustn't see me cry! I meant to
go to my bedroom and have it out by myself, but instead I rushed to
the kitchen and buried my face for a minute in the roller-towel. Then
before I let myself give way, I drew the dipper full of cold water and
swallowed those sobs back, forcing them with the strength of Samson.
You see I knew my sudden exit would leave an uncomfortable sensation
in the room back there, and I wouldn't have had one of them think I
was emotional for anything. So after a minute I went back. They could
see for themselves that there wasn't a tear in sight. Standing in the
doorway, facing them all, this is what I said, my voice as hard as
metal.
"Father, I shall be packed, and ready to go on Monday morning."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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