The Early Short Fiction of Edith Wharton — Part 1 — John Shaqi
The Early Short Fiction of Edith Wharton — Part 1Wharton, Edith
General
The Early Short Fiction of Edith Wharton — Part 1
Wharton, Edith
Fiction; Short stories, American
“What do you mean by fixing it? Do you mean that I can induce you to
change your mind about the extension? Oh, Mrs. Black, listen to me. I
have two thousand dollars in the bank and I could manage, I know I could
manage, to give you a thousand if--” Mrs. Manstey paused; the tears were
rolling down her cheeks.
“There, there, Mrs. Manstey, don’t you worry,” repeated Mrs. Black,
soothingly. “I am sure we can settle it. I am sorry that I can’t stay
and talk about it any longer, but this is such a busy time of day, with
supper to get--”
Her hand was on the door-knob, but with sudden vigor Mrs. Manstey seized
her wrist.
“You are not giving me a definite answer. Do you mean to say that you
accept my proposition?”
“Why, I’ll think it over, Mrs. Manstey, certainly I will. I wouldn’t
annoy you for the world--”
“But the work is to begin to-morrow, I am told,” Mrs. Manstey persisted.
Mrs. Black hesitated. “It shan’t begin, I promise you that; I’ll send
word to the builder this very night.” Mrs. Manstey tightened her hold.
“You are not deceiving me, are you?” she said.
“No--no,” stammered Mrs. Black. “How can you think such a thing of me,
Mrs. Manstey?”
Slowly Mrs. Manstey’s clutch relaxed, and she passed through the open
door. “One thousand dollars,” she repeated, pausing in the hall; then
she let herself out of the house and hobbled down the steps, supporting
herself on the cast-iron railing.
“My goodness,” exclaimed Mrs. Black, shutting and bolting the hall-door,
“I never knew the old woman was crazy! And she looks so quiet and
ladylike, too.”
Mrs. Manstey slept well that night, but early the next morning she was
awakened by a sound of hammering. She got to her window with what
haste she might and, looking out saw that Mrs. Black’s yard was full of
workmen. Some were carrying loads of brick from the kitchen to the yard,
others beginning to demolish the old-fashioned wooden balcony which
adorned each story of Mrs. Black’s house. Mrs. Manstey saw that she had
been deceived. At first she thought of confiding her trouble to Mrs.
Sampson, but a settled discouragement soon took possession of her and
she went back to bed, not caring to see what was going on.
Toward afternoon, however, feeling that she must know the worst, she
rose and dressed herself. It was a laborious task, for her hands were
stiffer than usual, and the hooks and buttons seemed to evade her.
When she seated herself in the window, she saw that the workmen
had removed the upper part of the balcony, and that the bricks had
multiplied since morning. One of the men, a coarse fellow with a bloated
face, picked a magnolia blossom and, after smelling it, threw it to the
ground; the next man, carrying a load of bricks, trod on the flower in
passing.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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