City and town life -- Fiction; Gossip -- Fiction; Virginia -- Fiction
"Them two children over there"--she pointed vaguely toward the now
shouting group--"those two with red hair and red ribbons is Mr. Sam
Winter's little girls. I don't like 'em, but if there's any one woman in
this world I feel sorry for it's Sam Winter's wife, and so I invited
'em. Ain't they the ugliest, freckledest little things you ever saw?
Don't reckon you remember their ma, either? She used to stay in Mr. Pat
Horston's bakery and confectionery when you lived here. That's been--"
"Ten years ago this October."
"That's so. I remember it now like 'twas yesterday. Never will forget
the day your father died so sudden, just like Mr. Pryor, and everything
in Yorkburg seemed to stop. He was the kind of man who makes wheels
go round, and everybody thought when he died the shoe factory would
shut down and the 'lectric-light plant would go out; and people round
here say they would if you hadn't put your foot down and told your ma
they had to keep up. Sixteen was right young to be buttin' into business
matters, but some folks is born older than others, and I reckon you've
got right much of your pa in you. And that's what I told McDougal I
like about you. You knew what you wanted, and when you made up your
mind to do a thing, 'twould be death or you would win. And my
grandmother always did say, for winning, will was worth more than
anything else on earth.
"But I ain't asked you what kind of business you're in, or how you're
gettin' on in it, nor how your ma is. I hope she's well. And your
sister, too. They tell me she's married--"
"She is. Living in California. Got two children. Mother is very well,
thank you. She's abroad just now. I'm in the law business. I get my
bread out of it, but not much jam yet. You were speaking of Sam
Winter's wife just now. I remember her; used to sell us cakes and
pies, and so afraid she wouldn't get the change right she nearly
wore her fingers out counting on them. We used to borrow a big piece
of money--a dollar was big in those days--just to watch her face get
red when we'd tell her the change was wrong. Little beasts! Somebody
ought to have beaten us."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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