Little Masterpieces of American Wit and Humor, Volume II
General
Little Masterpieces of American Wit and Humor, Volume II
American wit and humor
We respected her feelings, for, of course, it was a great
disappointment to her to be taken thus unawares, and we remained in
the dining-room until she appeared and announced that she was ready
for us to go about. We availed ourselves quickly of the privilege, and
Euphemia hurried to the chicken-yard, while I bent my steps toward the
garden and barn. As I went out I noticed that the rustic chair was in
its place, and passing the pump I looked for the dipper. It was there.
I asked Pomona about the chair, but she did not answer as quickly as
was her habit.
"Would you rather," said she, "hear it altogether, when you come in, or
have it in little bits, head and tail, all of a jumble?"
I called to Euphemia and asked her what she thought, and she was so
anxious to get to her chickens that she said she would much rather wait
and hear it all together. We found everything in perfect order--the
garden was even free from weeds, a thing I had not expected. If it had
not been for that cloud on the front fence, I should have been happy
enough. Pomona had said it was all right, but she could not have paid
the taxes--however, I would wait; and I went to the barn.
When Euphemia came in from the poultry-yard, she called me and said she
was in a hurry to hear Pomona's account of things. So I went in, and we
sat on the side porch, where it was shady, while Pomona, producing some
sheets of foolscap paper, took her seat on the upper step.
"I wrote down the things of any account what happened," said she, "as
you told me to, and while I was about it I thought I'd make it like a
novel. It would be jus' as true, and p'r'aps more amusin'. I suppose
you don't mind?"
No, we didn't mind. So she went on.
"I haven't got no name for my novel. I intended to think one out
to-night. I wrote this all of nights. And I don't read the first
chapters, for they tell about my birth and my parentage, and my early
adventures. I'll just come down to what happened to me while you was
away, because you'll be more anxious to hear about that. All that's
written here is true, jus' the same as if I told it to you, but I've
put it into novel language because it comes easier to me."
And then, in a voice somewhat different from her ordinary tones, as if
the "novel language" demanded it, she began to read:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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