Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Children's stories; Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction
“‘So am I, for I can’t get in except by the entry window, and he’ll see
me,’ says Kitty, gigglin’ at the thoughts of Joe.
“‘Come down the ladder, there’s a dear. I’ll pull it round and keep it
stiddy,’ says her mother.
“‘Oh, ma, don’t ask me!’ says Kitty, with a shiver. ‘I’m dreadfully
scared of ladders since I broke my arm off this very one. It’s so high,
it makes me dizzy jest to think of.’
“‘Well, then, I’ll do the best I can; but I wish them boys was to
Jericho!’ says the old lady, with a groan, for she was fat and hot, had
her gown pinned up, and was in a fluster generally. She was goin’ off
rather huffy, when Kitty called out,—
“‘Stop, ma! I’ll come down and help you, only ketch me if I tumble.’
“She looked scared but stiddy, and I’ll bet it took as much grit for her
to do it as for one of us to face a battery. It don’t seem much to tell
of, but I wish I may be hit if it wasn’t a right down dutiful and clever
thing to see done. When the old lady took her off at the bottom, with a
good motherly hug, ‘Good,’ thinks I; ‘what more do you want?’”
“A snug little property wouldn’t a ben bad, I reckon,” said Flint.
“Well, she had it, old skin-flint, though I didn’t know or care about it
then. What a jolly row she’d make if she knew I was tellin’ the ladder
part of the story! She always does when I get to it, and makes believe
cry, with her head in my breast-pocket, or any such handy place, till I
take it out and swear I’ll never do so ag’in. Poor little Kit, I wonder
what she’s doin’ now. Thinkin’ of me, I’ll bet.”
Dick paused, pulled his cap lower over his eyes, and smoked a minute
with more energy than enjoyment, for his cigar was out and he did not
perceive it.
“That’s not all, is it?” asked Thorn, taking a fatherly interest in the
younger man’s love passages.
“Not quite. ’Fore long, Joe whistled, and as I always take short cuts
everywhar, I put in at the back-door, jest as Kitty come trottin’ out of
the pantry with a big berry-pie in her hand. I startled her, she tripped
over the sill and down she come; the dish flew one way, the pie flopped
into her lap, the juice spatterin’ my boots and her clean gown. I
thought she’d cry, scold, have hysterics, or some confounded thing or
other; but she jest sat still a minute, then looked up at me with a
great blue splash on her face, and went off into the good-naturedest
gale of laughin’ you ever heard in your life. That finished me. ‘Gay,’
thinks I; ‘go in and win.’ So I did; made love hand over hand, while I
stayed with Joe; pupposed a fortnight after, married her in three
months, and there she is, a tip-top little woman, with a pair of
stunnin’ boys in her arms!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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