My Wife and I; Or, Harry Henderson's HistoryStowe, Harriet Beecher
General
My Wife and I; Or, Harry Henderson's History
Stowe, Harriet Beecher
American fiction -- 19th century; Courtship -- Fiction; Marriage -- Fiction; Romance fiction
Bolton invited us to sit down, and did the honors of his room with a
quiet elegance, as if it had been a palace instead of an attic. As soon
as we were seated, the cat sprang familiarly on the table and sat down
cosily by Bolton, rubbing her head against his coat-sleeve.
"Let me introduce you to my wife," said Bolton, stroking her head. "Eh,
Jenny, what now?" he added, as she seized his hands playfully in her
teeth and claws. "You see, she has the connubial weapons," he said, "and
insists on being treated with attention; but she's capital company. I
read all my articles to her, and she never makes an unjust criticism."
Puss soon stepped from her perch on the table and ensconced herself in
his lap, while I went round examining his books.
The library showed varied and curious tastes. The books were almost all
rare.
"I have always made a rule," he said, "never to buy a book that I could
borrow."
I was amused, in the course of the conversation, at the relations which
apparently existed between him and Jim Fellows, which appeared to me to
be very like what might be supposed to exist between a philosopher and a
lively pet squirrel--it was the perfection of quiet, amused tolerance.
Jim seemed to be not in the slightest degree under constraint in his
presence, and rattled on with a free and easy slang familiarity,
precisely as he had done with me.
"What do you think Old Soapy has engaged Hal for?" he said. "Why, he
only offers him--" Here followed the statement of terms.
I was annoyed at this matter-of-fact way of handling my private affairs,
but on meeting the eyes of my new friend I discerned a glance of quiet
humor which re-assured me. He seemed to regard Jim only as another form
of the inevitable.
"Don't you think it is a confounded take-in?" said Jim.
"Of course," said Mr. Bolton, with a smile, "but he will survive it. The
place is only one of the stepping-stones. Meanwhile," he said, "I think
Mr. Henderson can find other markets for his literary wares, and more
profitable ones. I think," he added, while the blood again rose in his
cheeks, "that I have some influence in certain literary quarters, and I
shall be happy to do all that I can to secure to him that which he ought
to receive for such careful work as this. Your labor on the paper will
not by any means take up your whole power or time."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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