The Hundred, and Other StoriesBrownell, Gertrude Hall
General
The Hundred, and Other Stories
Brownell, Gertrude Hall
American fiction -- 19th century; Short stories, American
"I should like the one all in white. She must be a bride; see, she has
a wreath and veil and necklace. I should like her the very best. But
right after that, if I could have two, I should like this other in the
shade-hat with the forget-me-nots, and forget-me-nots dotted all over
her dress. And, see! the sky-blue hair-ribbon. If I could just have
three of them, then I would take this one too, with the black lace
shawl over her head fastened with roses instead of a hat. She has such
a lovely face! And after her I would choose this one in green--or this
one in pink; no, this one here, Sally, just look--this one in green and
pink. And you, if you could have more than one, which would you choose,
after the red one?"
"Well, I guess I'd choose this one in white."
"Oh no, Sally; don't you remember? That is the bride, the one I said
the very first. You can have all the others, Sally dear, except the
bride. But let's see, perhaps there are two brides. Yes!--no!--that is
just a little girl in white, without a wreath. Should you like her as
well? I was the first to say the bride, you know."
"Law! I wouldn't have wanted her if I had known she was a bride! I
take this one, Tibbie--this one with the feathers in her hat. Ain't she
the gay girl, in red and green plaid! And this purple silk one, and
this red and white stripe, and this--"
"Wait! That's enough, Sally; that makes four for you. It's my turn
now. If I could have five, I should take one of the rose-bud ones--no,
two of them, so's to play I had twins. Say, Sally, let's choose one
apiece--first you one, then me one, till we've chosen them all up, and
got fifty apiece. Your turn."
They chose and chose, pointing each time, and detailing the costume of
the chosen one aloud with the greatest enjoyment.
Jetty had laid himself down beside them, stretched his silky length,
his nose between his paws. He was very tired. Perhaps among the things
his great moist eyes were wondering about was the reason of this
fatigue in his vocal chords.
"For my forty-fifth one," said Sally, placing her forefinger pensively
against the side of her nose, "I choose her--her with the little black
velvets run all through."
"Taken already," said Tibbie, promptly.
"Then her over there, with the short puffy sleeves."
"Taken!"
"She taken too? Well, then, her in the pink Mother Hubbard with the
little knitting-bag on her arm."
"Taken, Sally! Can't you remember anything? Those belong to me; I chose
them long ago. These are the only not taken ones; here and here and
here and here and here and here and--"
"Aw, you're a great girl!" cried Sally, suddenly throwing her arms
around Tibbie and casting herself backward on the floor with her, where
they tumbled and rolled, laughing, Jetty jumping about on top of them,
barking hoarsely in a frenzy of fun.
"Oh, Tibbie, ain't we having a time of it?"
And Tibbie almost shouted, "Yes!--ain't we having a time of it!"
"Ain't this a night?"
"Oh yes!--ain't it a night!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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