New York (N.Y.) -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
“You hadn't oughter say that, Evelina. We ain't so badly off as all
that. I guess you're cold and tired. Set down while I take the kettle
off: it's right on the boil.”
She pushed Evelina toward the table, keeping a sideward eye on her
sister's listless movements, while her own hands were busy with the
kettle. A moment later came the exclamation for which she waited.
“Why, Ann Eliza!” Evelina stood transfixed by the sight of the parcel
beside her plate.
Ann Eliza, tremulously engaged in filling the teapot, lifted a look of
hypocritical surprise.
“Sakes, Evelina! What's the matter?”
The younger sister had rapidly untied the string, and drawn from
its wrappings a round nickel clock of the kind to be bought for a
dollar-seventy-five.
“Oh, Ann Eliza, how could you?” She set the clock down, and the sisters
exchanged agitated glances across the table.
“Well,” the elder retorted, “AIN'T it your birthday?”
“Yes, but--”
“Well, and ain't you had to run round the corner to the Square every
morning, rain or shine, to see what time it was, ever since we had to
sell mother's watch last July? Ain't you, Evelina?”
“Yes, but--”
“There ain't any buts. We've always wanted a clock and now we've got
one: that's all there is about it. Ain't she a beauty, Evelina?” Ann
Eliza, putting back the kettle on the stove, leaned over her sister's
shoulder to pass an approving hand over the circular rim of the clock.
“Hear how loud she ticks. I was afraid you'd hear her soon as you come
in.”
“No. I wasn't thinking,” murmured Evelina.
“Well, ain't you glad now?” Ann Eliza gently reproached her. The rebuke
had no acerbity, for she knew that Evelina's seeming indifference was
alive with unexpressed scruples.
“I'm real glad, sister; but you hadn't oughter. We could have got on
well enough without.”
“Evelina Bunner, just you sit down to your tea. I guess I know what
I'd oughter and what I'd hadn't oughter just as well as you do--I'm old
enough!”
“You're real good, Ann Eliza; but I know you've given up something you
needed to get me this clock.”
“What do I need, I'd like to know? Ain't I got a best black silk?” the
elder sister said with a laugh full of nervous pleasure.
She poured out Evelina's tea, adding some condensed milk from the jug,
and cutting for her the largest slice of pie; then she drew up her own
chair to the table.
The two women ate in silence for a few moments before Evelina began to
speak again. “The clock is perfectly lovely and I don't say it ain't a
comfort to have it; but I hate to think what it must have cost you.”
“No, it didn't, neither,” Ann Eliza retorted. “I got it dirt cheap, if
you want to know. And I paid for it out of a little extra work I did the
other night on the machine for Mrs. Hawkins.”
“The baby-waists?”
“Yes.”
“There, I knew it! You swore to me you'd buy a new pair of shoes with
that money.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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