The quilt of happiness; Creeping Jenny; and other New England storiesWiggin, Kate Douglas Smith
General
The quilt of happiness; Creeping Jenny; and other New England stories
Wiggin, Kate Douglas Smith
New England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Short stories, American
"For nothin' at all, neither," he was wont to say. "O' course she
ain't got strength enough to hurt a skeeter, an' her dress is so
tight she don't dass put on any steam for fear she'll bust it, but
she'd lam you good if she knew how! Matt Milliken will be toein' the
mark himself by fall, an' I won't have to lug any more o' his flowers
to the next teacher, that's one good thing!"
Undine prepared herself for bed that night with a trifle more care
than usual, punctuating each move in the operation by long studies of
her charming self in the looking-glass, which was of poor quality and
never did her entire justice. Her hair was the first subject of
admiration, as she brushed the golden mop and held it up to glow in
the full light of her kerosene lamp.
"It might land me 'most anywheres, my hair," she thought, "even in
the moving pictures. They say a star can get along without any
talent if she has the right kind of hair and wears her clothes well.
I never had a chance to try on handsome dresses, but I guess my shape
is as good as any of the stars I've seen. And my face wouldn't need
any smoothing out nor touching up, for it's worrying that makes
wrinkles, and I never was a worrier. Let other folks do the
worrying, is my motto."
Undine, as she looked admiringly at her hair and skin and figure with
the aid of a hand mirror, never once discovered that her nose was
just the least little bit inclined to be flat. Her lips were red,
but the line of her mouth had no lovable, generous curves. Her eyes
were so blue that they rivaled sapphires, but they never suffused
with tears, nor danced with merry sparkles of fun, nor looked deep,
deep into other eyes, revealing all sorts of true, tender,
unspeakable things. No, her eyes were a magnificent color and would
last her to a good old age, but she would never see visions with them.
Nevertheless there was something in Matthew Milliken's personality
that threatened the heretofore dominating influence of life, as it
was lived in moving pictures. His youthful strength and manly
presence stirred her heart just a trifle, and also his obvious
passion for her had its effect.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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