By the Light of the Soul: A NovelFreeman, Mary Eleanor Wilkins
General
By the Light of the Soul: A Novel
Freeman, Mary Eleanor Wilkins
Fiction
The two girls walked on; they had crossed the bridge. Suddenly Lily
plucked up a little spirit.
"Say, Maria," said she.
"What is it, dear?"
"I just happened to think. Mother was asked to tea to Mrs. Ralph
Wright's to-night, but she isn't going. Is your aunt going?"
"Yes, I believe she is," said Maria.
"She won't be home before eight o'clock, will she?"
"No, I don't suppose she will. They are to have tea at six, I
believe."
"Then I am coming over after mother and I have tea. I have something
I want to tell you."
"All right, dear," replied Maria, hesitatingly.
When Maria got home she found her aunt Maria all dressed, except for
her collar-fastening. She was waiting for Maria to attend to that.
Her thin gray-blond hair was beautifully crimped, and she wore her
best black silk dress. She was standing by the sitting-room window
when Maria entered.
"I am glad you have come, Maria," said she. "I have been standing
quite awhile. You are late."
"Yes, I am rather late," replied Maria. "But why on earth didn't you
sit down?"
"Do you suppose I am going to sit down more than I can help in this
dress?" said her aunt. "There is nothing hurts a silk dress more than
sitting down in it. Now if you will hook my collar, Maria. I can do
it, but I don't like to strain the seams by reaching round, and I
didn't want to trail this dress down the cellar stairs to get Eunice
to fasten it up." Aunt Maria bewailed the weather in a deprecating
fashion while Maria was fastening the collar at the back of her
skinny neck. "I never want to find fault with the weather," said she,
"because, of course, the weather is regulated by Something higher
than we are, and it must be for our best good, but I do hate to wear
this dress out in such a storm, and I don't dare wear my cashmere.
Mrs. Ralph Wright is so particular she would be sure to think I
didn't pay her proper respect."
"You can wear my water-proof," said Maria. "I didn't wear it to-day,
you know. I didn't think the snow would do this dress any harm. The
water-proof will cover you all up."
"Well, I suppose I can, and can pin my skirt up," said Aunt Maria, in
a resigned tone. "I don't want to find fault with the weather, but I
do hate to pin up a black silk skirt."
"You can turn it right up around your waist, and fasten the braid to
your belt, and then it won't hurt it," said Maria, consolingly.
"Well, I suppose I can. Your supper is all ready, Maria. There's
bread and butter, and chocolate cake, and some oysters. I thought you
wouldn't mind making yourself a little stew. I couldn't make it
before you came, because it wouldn't be fit to eat. You know how. Be
sure the milk is hot before you put the oysters in. There is a good
fire."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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