Humorous stories; Reporters and reporting -- Fiction; Women authors -- Fiction
“Softly, brother, softly!” whispered Von Gerhard. “When women exchange
remarks that apparently are simple, and yet that you, a man, cannot
understand, then know there is a woman’s war going on, and step softly,
and hold your peace. Aber ruhig!”
Calm was restored with the appearance of the steak, which was found to
have survived the period of waiting, and to be incredibly juicy and
tender. Presently we were all settled once more in the great beamed
living room, Sis at the piano, the two men smoking their after-dinner
cigars with that idiotic expression of contentment which always adorns
the masculine face on such occasions.
I looked at them—at those three who had done so much for my happiness
and well being, and something within me said: “Now! Speak now!” Norah
was playing very softly, so that the Spalpeens upstairs might not be
disturbed. I took a long breath and made the plunge.
“Norah, if you’ll continue the slow music, I’ll be much obliged. ‘The
time has come, the Walrus said, to talk of many things.’”
“Don’t be absurd,” said Norah, over her shoulder, and went on playing.
“I never was more serious in my life, good folkses all. I’ve got to be.
This butterfly existence has gone on long enough. Norah, and Max, and
Mr. Doctor Man, I am going away.”
Norah’s hands crashed down on the piano keys with a jangling discord.
She swung about to face me.
“Not New York again, Dawn! Not New York!”
“I am afraid so,” I answered.
Max—bless his great, brotherly heart—rose and came over to me and put a
hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t you like it here, girlie? Want to be hauled home on a shutter
again, do you? You know that as long as we have a home, you have one.
We need you here.”
But I shook my head. From his chair at the other side of the room I
could feel Von Gerhard’s gaze fixed upon us. He had said nothing.
“Need me! No one needs me. Don’t worry; I’m not going to become maudlin
about it. But I don’t belong here, and you know, it. I have my work to
do. Norah is the best sister that a woman ever had. And Max, you’re an
angel brother-in-law. But how can I stay on here and keep my
self-respect?” I took Max’s big hand in mine and gathered courage from
it.
“But you have been working,” wailed Norah, “every morning. And I
thought the book was coming on beautifully. And I’m sure it will be a
wonderful book, Dawn dear. You are so clever.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account