David Harum: A Story of American LifeWestcott, Edward Noyes
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David Harum: A Story of American Life
Westcott, Edward Noyes
Bankers -- Fiction; New York (State) -- Fiction
"'Yes,' I says, 'don't ye like it?' Wa'al," said David, "she never said
a word. She drawed in her arm an' took holt of the bunnit with her left
hand, an' fust she pulled off one thing an' dropped it on the floor, fur
off as she c'd reach, an' then another, an' then another, an' then, by
gum! she went at it with both hands jest as fast as she could work 'em,
an' in less time 'n I'm tellin' it to ye she picked the thing cleaner 'n
any chicken you ever see, an' when she got down to the carkis she
squeezed it up between her two hands, give it a wring an' a twist like
it was a wet dish towel, an' flung it slap in my face. Then she made a
half turn, throwin' back her head an' grabbin' into her hair, an' give
the awfullest screechin' laugh--one screech after another that you c'd
'a' heard a mile--an' then throwed herself face down on the bed,
screamin' an' kickin'. Wa'al, sir, if I wa'n't at my wits' end, you c'n
have my watch an' chain.
"She wouldn't let me touch her no way, but, as luck had it, it was one
o' the times when we had a hired girl, an' hearin' the noise she come
gallopin' up the stairs. She wa'n't a young girl, an' she had a face
humbly 'nough to keep her awake nights, but she had some sense,
an'--'You'd bether run fer the docther,' she says, when she see the
state my wife was in. You better believe I done the heat of my life,"
said David, "an' more luck, the doctor was home an' jest finishin' his
tea. His house an' office wa'n't but two three blocks off, an' in about
a few minutes me an' him an' his bag was leggin' it fer my house, though
I noticed he didn't seem to be 'n as much of a twitter 's I was. He ast
me more or less questions, an' jest as we got to the house he says:
"'Has your wife had any thin' to 'larm or shock her this evenin'?'
"'Nothin' 't I know on,' I says, ''cept I bought her a new bunnit that
didn't seem to come quite up to her idees.' At that," remarked Mr.
Harum, "he give me a funny look, an' we went in an' upstairs.
"The hired girl," he proceeded, "had got her quieted down some, but when
we went in she looked up, an' seein' me, set up another screech, an' he
told me to go downstairs an' he'd come down putty soon, an' after a
while he did.
"'Wa'al?' I says.
"'She's quiet fer the present,' he says, takin' a pad o' paper out o'
his pocket, an' writin' on it.
"'Do you know Mis' Jones, your next-door neighbor?' he says. I allowed
't I had a speakin' acquaintance with her.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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