When Helena went back to the house, her face was red, and her whole

body tingling; every now and then her breath came in a gasp of rage.

At that moment she believed that she hated everybody in the world--the

cruel, foolish, arrogant world!--even the thought of David brought no

softening. And indeed, when that first fury had subsided, she still

did not want to see the little boy; that destroying wind of anger had

beaten her complacency to the dust, and she could not with dignity

meet the child's candid eyes. It was not until the next day that she

could find any pleasure in him, or even in the prospect of Lloyd's

visit; and when these interests began to revive, sudden gusts of rage

would tear her, and she would fall into abrupt reveries, declaring to

herself that she would tell Lloyd how she had been insulted! But she

reminded herself that she must choose just the right moment to enlist

his sympathy for the affront; she must decide with just what caress

she would tell him that she meant to leave Old Chester, and come, with

David, to live in Philadelphia. (Oh, would Frederick ever die?)...

But, little by little, she put the miserable matter behind her, and

filled the days before Lloyd's arrival with plans for the few golden

hours that they were to be together, when he was to have her "all to

himself." But, alas, the plans were all disarranged by David.

Now Saturday, when you come to think of it, is always a day of joy--

even if there must be a visitor. To begin with, there is no school, so

you have plenty of time to attend to many important affairs connected

with playthings. Then, the gravel paths must be raked and the garden

made tidy for Sunday, and so there is brush and refuse to be burned;

and that means baking potatoes in the ashes, and (as you will

remember), unless you stand, coughing, in the smoke to watch them, the

potatoes are so apt to burn. Also, the phaeton is washed with peculiar

care to make it fine for church; the wheels must be jacked up, one

after the other, and spun round and round; then, if you go about it

the right way, you can induce George to let you take the big, gritty

sponge out of the black water of the stable bucket, and after

squeezing it hard in your two hands, you may wipe down the spokes of

one wheel. Besides these things, there are always the rabbits. Right

after breakfast, David had run joyously out to see Mr. and Mrs. Smith,

but while he poked lettuce leaves between the bars of their hutch, the

thought struck him that this was the moment to demonstrate that

interesting fact in natural history, so well known to those of your

friends who happen to be stablemen, but doubted by Dr. Lavendar,

namely, that a hair from the pony's tail will, if soaked in water,

turn into a snake. David shuddered at the word, but ran to the stable

and carefully pulled two hairs from the pony's silvery-gray tail. The

operation was borne with most obliging patience, but when he stooped

to pick up another beautiful long hair from the straw--for when you

are making snakes you might as well make plenty, alas! the pony was so

absent-minded as to step back--and down came the iron-shod hoof on the

small, eager hand!




readonlinefreebook.com Copyright 2016 - 2024