Round the Corner in Gay StreetRichmond, Grace S. (Grace Smith)
General
Round the Corner in Gay Street
Richmond, Grace S. (Grace Smith)
Families -- Juvenile fiction
"It is serious, though. I ’m full of it, and can’t stop to talk about
the weather, so here goes.--I ’ve quarrelled with my father."
Jane, who had thus far not ceased her weeding, stopped work and sat
still to look at her neighbour. He met her gaze defiantly.
"Yes, I know. You think this is another case of schoolboy heroics, like
the last fuss I told you I had with him--"
"I wish you would n’t tell me."
"I ’ve got to tell somebody. Come, Jane--you ’ve grown to seem like the
best friend I have--don’t turn the cold shoulder on me just when I need
you. You know what my mother and sister are like----"
With a gesture of disapproval Jane turned away to her work.
Forrest watched her for a moment in silence; then he began again:
"All right, I won’t complain if you ’ll just let me tell you about this
last scrape. There ’s nobody else I can talk to--you know enough about
us to know that."
"There ought to be. Your brother----"
"Oh, Murray! With all respect to him--since you insist on respect--he
’s not off the same piece of cloth with me, and can’t understand me any
more than I can him. His blood is n’t good red blood at all; it’s
white, I think, and I----"
Jane rose up from her knees and stood above her visitor, determination
on her frank face.
"Forrest Townsend," said she, "if you can talk to me without running
down your family, I ’ll listen, but not otherwise. I don’t think you
ought to tell me your affairs at all, but if you ’re sure I can be of
use I ’ll hear them, on that one condition."
Forrest studied her a moment without replying, while her clear hazel
eyes returned his gaze. Then he laughed rather awkwardly.
"You ’re the soul of honour, are n’t you?" he said. "And that’s just why
I need your advice. I don’t want to do anything dishonourable, but I ’m
in a corner, and don’t see any way out except a jump over the wall. Let
me tell you--please!"
Jane dropped upon her knees again and gave her attention to her work.
Taking this as permission, Forrest began, picking up a long, pink-headed
weed and pulling it through his fingers as he talked.
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.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account