Short stories and selections for use in the secondary schools
General
Short stories and selections for use in the secondary schools
English prose literature; Readers; Short stories
We had been out about an hour, spying into the garden, looking down on a
great part of the courts and buildings, and carefully hiding behind
chimneys whenever we saw a black-veiled nun, who might have raised her
head and seen us in the clouds, when we asked ourselves how we should
get back. The arrangement of the roofs had allowed us to step or jump
down. Going up was not so easy. I think it would have been impossible
without a ladder. We scarcely knew where we were. At last we recognized
a parlor-boarder's window,--Sidonie Macdonald's, the celebrated
general's daughter. It could be reached by a final jump, but would be
more dangerous than the others. I jumped too hurriedly, and caught my
heel in a flat sky-light, through which I should have fallen thirty feet
into a hall near the junior's room, if by chance my awkwardness had not
made me swerve. I got off with two badly flayed knees, but did not give
them a second thought. My heel had broken into a part of the sash of
that deuced window, and smashed half a dozen panes, which dropped with a
frightful crash quite near the kitchen entrance. A great noise arose at
once among the lay sisters, and through the opening I had just made, we
could hear Sister Theresa's loud voice screaming, "Cats!" and accusing
Whisky--Mother Alippe's big tom-cat--of fighting with all his fellows,
and breaking all the windows in the house. But sister Mary defended the
cat's morals, and Sister Helen was sure that a chimney had fallen on the
roof. This discussion started the nervous giggle that nothing can stop
in little girls. We heard the sisters on the stairs, we should be caught
in the very act of walking on the roofs, and still we could not stir to
find refuge. Then I discovered that one of my shoes was gone,--that it
had dropped through the broken sash into the kitchen hall. Though my
knees were bleeding, my laughter was so uncontrollable that I could not
say a word, but merely showed my unshod foot and explained what had
happened by dumb show. A new explosion of laughter followed, although
the alarm had been given and the lay sisters were near.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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