The Copy-Cat, and Other StoriesFreeman, Mary Eleanor Wilkins
General
The Copy-Cat, and Other Stories
Freeman, Mary Eleanor Wilkins
New England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Short stories
To Johnny's wild astonishment, Aunt Janet seized him by the shoulders
and looked him in the eyes with a look of adoration and immense
approval. “Thank goodness,” said she, “at last there is going to be a
fighter in the Trumbull family. Your uncle would never fight, and your
father would not. Your grandfather would. Your uncle and your father are
good men, though; you must try to be like them, Johnny.”
“Yes, ma'am,” replied Johnny, bewildered.
“I think they would be called better men than your grandfather and my
father,” said Aunt Janet.
“Yes, ma'am.”
“I think it is time for you to have your grandfather's watch,” said Aunt
Janet. “I think you are man enough to take care of it.” Aunt Janet had
all the time been holding a black leather case. Now she opened it, and
Johnny saw the great gold watch which he had seen many times before and
had always understood was to be his some day, when he was a man. “Here,”
said Aunt Janet. “Take good care of it. You must try to be as good as
your uncle and father, but you must remember one thing--you will wear a
watch which belonged to a man who never allowed other men to crowd him
out of the way he elected to go.”
“Yes, ma'am,” said Johnny. He took the watch.
“What do you say?” inquired his aunt, sharply.
“Thank you.”
“That's right. I thought you had forgotten your manners. Your
grandfather never did.”
“I am sorry. Aunt Janet,” muttered Johnny, “that I--”
“You need never say anything about that,” his aunt returned, quickly.
“I did not see who you were at first. You are too old to be spanked by a
woman, but you ought to be whipped by a man, and I wish your grandfather
were alive to do it.”
“Yes, ma'am,” said Johnny. He looked at her bravely. “He could if he
wanted to,” said he.
Aunt Janet smiled at him proudly. “Of course,” said she, “a boy like you
never gets the worst of it fighting with other boys.”
“No, ma'am,” said Johnny.
Aunt Janet smiled again. “Now run and wash your face and hands,” said
she; “you must not keep supper waiting. Your mother has a paper to write
for her club, and I have promised to help her.”
“Yes, ma'am,” said Johnny. He walked out, carrying the great gold
timepiece, bewildered, embarrassed, modest beneath his honors, but
little cock of the walk, whether he would or no, for reasons entirely
and forever beyond his ken.
JOHNNY-IN-THE-WOODS
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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