Married people -- Fiction; New York (State) -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
They had decided to abandon the steamer-trunk, though Mother made a
bundle of the more necessary things. The second the house was quiet
Father was ready. He didn't even have to put on an overcoat--he hadn't
any worth putting on. His old overcoat had finally gone to seed and was
the chief thing abandoned with the steamer-trunk. He turned up his
coat-collar and slung his muffler about his neck, put his brown
slouch-hat impudently on one side of his white head, and stood
rejuvenated, an adventurer.
Just below their window was the roof of the low garage, which was built
as part of the house. Father opened the window, eased out the suit-case,
followed it, and gave his hand to Mother, who creakingly crawled out
with her bundle. It was an early November evening, chilly, a mist in the
air. After their day in the enervating furnace heat the breeze seemed
biting, and the garage roof was perilously slippery. Mother slid and
balanced and slid on the roof, irritably observing, "I declare to
goodness I never thought that at my time of life I'd have to sneak out
of a window on to a nasty slippery shed-roof, like a thief in the night,
when I wanted to go a-visiting."
"H'sh!" demanded Father. "They'll hear us and lug us back."
"Back nothing!" snapped Mother. "Now that I've been and gone and
actually snook out of a window and made a common gallivanting old hex
out of myself this way, I wouldn't come back not if Lulu and Harry and
that lump of a Harris Hartwig was all a-hanging on to my pettiskirts and
trying to haul me back."
"Oof-flumpf."
This last sound was made by the soft mud beside the garage as Mother
landed in it. She had jumped from the roof without once hesitating, and
she picked up her bundle and waited quite calmly till Father came flying
frog-like through the mist.
They hadn't many minutes to wait for the New York train, but they were
anxious minutes. Lest Lulu or the lordly Harris Hartwig descend on them,
they nervously lurked in the dark doorway of the baggage-room. With no
overcoat, Father shivered--and hid the shiver.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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