The Shoulders of Atlas: A NovelFreeman, Mary Eleanor Wilkins
General
The Shoulders of Atlas: A Novel
Freeman, Mary Eleanor Wilkins
New England -- Fiction
Lucinda cast a sharp glance at Hannah. "It's downright wicked fooling
with them," said she. "I hope you won't get any such ideas into your
head."
"No, I sha'n't," replied Hannah. "I'm married."
"I heard pretty straight this morning," said Lucinda, "that Lucy
Ayres had got married out West, and had done real well."
"I'm mighty glad of it," said Hannah, sharply. "She was crazy enough
to get married when she was here."
Lucinda echoed her as sharply. "Guess you're right," she said.
"Albion Bennet told me some things. I shouldn't think she'd make much
of a wife, if she has got a pretty face."
"She's just the kind to settle down and be a real sensible woman,
after she's found out that she's on the earth and not in the clouds,"
returned Hannah, with an air of wisdom.
Then Albion Bennet came into the kitchen for some hot water for
shaving. He was going to the wedding, and had closed his store early,
and was about to devote a long time to preparations. Lucinda, also,
was going. She had a new black silk for the occasion.
When Albion left the kitchen he beckoned her to follow him. She made
an excuse and went out into the corridor. "What is it?" she said to
Albion, who was waiting, holding his pitcher of hot water.
"Nothing," said he, "only I was over to Alford this morning and--I
bought some violets. I thought you'd like to wear them to the
wedding."
Lucinda stared at him. "What for?" asked she.
Albion fidgeted and his pitcher of hot water tilted.
"Look out, you're spilling the water," said Lucinda. "What for?"
"I--thought you might like to wear them, you know," said Albion. He
had never before given violets to a woman, and she had never had any
given her by a man.
"Thank you," she said, faintly.
"I've ordered a hack to come for me at half-past seven, and--I
thought maybe you'd like to ride with me," said Albion, further.
Lucinda stared. "What for?" she said again.
"I thought you might like to ride."
Then Lucinda colored. "Why, folks would talk," said she.
"Let them. I don't care; do you?"
"Albion Bennet, I'm a lot older than you. I ain't old enough to be
your mother, but I'm a good deal older than you."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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