Country life -- Fiction; New England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
"Well, that’s the way it goes! When a fella’s been cryin’ wolf for
years an’ years, the chances are he’ll attrac’ some kinda thing his way,
if it’s only a meazly little skunk, which is more embarrassin’ than
dangerous. Meazles is a kinda come-down, for a party Hiram Parkinson’s
age an’ ambitions. He’s been walkin’ around with, as you might say, one
foot in the gravey,—poor soul! I bet it makes’m sore to feel he’s with
both feet in the soup. Meazles! I guess I’ll send’m a glass or two o’
my slip-go-down jelly to cool his throat."
"I guess he didn’t be expectin’ _that_, whatever it was he did be
expectin’," Ma dropped complacently.
"Well, you gener’ly get _sump’n_, if you expect it long enough. That’s
why it’s up to us to be sure we like our order before it goes in, for in
the end we’ll have to chew it, anyhow."
Martha drew her chair to the center-table, seated herself, and taking
paper, pen and a bottle of ink from the drawer, prepared to write.
"Goin’ to write, Martha?" queried Ma, peering over at her curiously.
"Looks like it, don’t it?"
"A letter?"
"Maybe, or else my last will an’ prayer-book, as they say."
"I wonder——"
"I guess if you’re goin’ to wonder out loud, Ma, you’ll have to do it
later. I got to get this job off’n my hands right now, an’ between you
an’ me an’ the lamp-post, I ain’t so flip with my pen an’ ink, I can do
much of anythin’ fancy, _while you wait_. I got to take my time at it.
It’s the hardest stunt I know of. Firstoff, you got to have somethin’ to
write about, an’ then, before you’re fairly ready to put it down—what
with delays, owin’ to spellin’, blots an’ so forth—it’s got away from
you, an’ you have to think up somethin’ else in its place. While you’re
doin’ that the next idea gets away, so you’re left, whatever way you
look at it. Now, ’silence in the court-house,’ as Sammy says."
Ma would have given all she was worth to discover what it was that, for
the next couple of hours or so, Martha was so painfully employed upon.
She did her best to find out, but though she craned her neck, ducked her
head, peeked and peered, it was no use. A substantial elbow curved
around the paper, effectually shielding it from inquisitive eyes.
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.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account