The best short stories of 1919, and the yearbook of the American short story
General
The best short stories of 1919, and the yearbook of the American short story
American fiction -- 20th century; Short stories -- 20th century -- Bibliography; Short stories -- 20th century -- Indexes; Short stories, American
Of course neither of them had the faintest notion of what was at the
back of it, and that made it all the worse. Pearl lay there under the
clothes as limp as a rag, and the main boom of the _Minnie Williams_,
which as we know was the thing behind it all, urged the stove forward
until it was in square contact with the foot of the bed.
Now if there was one thing on which Pearl Higgins prided herself it was
her bed. It was a mountainous, whale-backed, feather-bedded four-poster,
built in the days of San Domingo mahogany, and quite capable of
supporting the weight of a baby elephant without a quiver. Equipped with
the legs of a colossus it had a frame to match. Tradition had it that a
governor of the state had once lain in it. If there was one thing sure,
therefore, it was that the bed would not collapse. But then again the
_Minnie Williams_ was a lady not to be denied. She must come on; she
could not help it for her heart, for the bitter end of the chain cable
was not yet, and she still had way on her.
The bed, the stove and the boom met, they fitted together as if they had
been made for one another from the beginning, they engaged each other
like vertebra in a spine, they stiffened. There came a fearful rending
of laths; the mopboard buckled; two vases of alabaster fell from the
parlor mantel, and almost at the same moment the red plush clock with
the stone cuckoo-bird over the dial and the music box "where its gizzard
should have been," as Elmer always said, fell likewise. Pearl said
afterward she knew that had gone because it started playing there on the
floor at a great rate. And the next thing she knew she was in the parlor
herself; and such a mess! She didn't know as she ever wanted to lay eyes
on it again after that night's works.
Elmer, uncertain what part to play, walked along with the bed, still
carrying the hand lamp in his hand, to light the _Minnie Williams_
along, and dodging falling walls and plaster. He said when questioned by
Zinie Shadd that he hadn't felt any particular alarm, on account of the
deliberate way she had come poking in there, with a kind of a
root-hog-or-die look about her; and he said he never for a minute
doubted his ability and Pearl's to make good their escape if the worst
came to the worst.
It really wasn't until the parlor went, as he explained to the Tall
Stove Club, that he took it into his head to look over his shoulder; and
it was then that he saw the lifeboat sweeping on victoriously across the
kitchen, or what had been the kitchen. And on top of that he saw Hat
Tyler looking down as cool as a cucumber, and her husband standing
beside her.
"She had come on deck jest as she was," he stated at that time with a
quiet chuckle, "and I never see anything like so much interest showing
in a human countenance before."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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