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The Romance of a Plain Man   By: (1873-1945)

The Romance of a Plain Man by Ellen Anderson Gholson Glasgow

First Page:

THE ROMANCE OF A PLAIN MAN

BY ELLEN GLASGOW

AUTHOR OF "THE DELIVERANCE," "THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE," ETC.

New York THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 1909

All rights reserved

Copyright, 1909, By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.

Set up and electrotyped. Published May, 1909. Reprinted May, July, August, September, twice, October, 1909.

Norwood Press J. S. Cushing Co. Berwick & Smith Co. Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.

CONTENTS

I. IN WHICH I APPEAR WITH FEW PRETENSIONS

II. THE ENCHANTED GARDEN

III. A PAIR OF RED SHOES

IV. IN WHICH I PLAY IN THE ENCHANTED GARDEN

V. IN WHICH I START IN LIFE

VI. CONCERNING CARROTS

VII. IN WHICH I MOUNT THE FIRST RUNG OF THE LADDER

VIII. IN WHICH MY EDUCATION BEGINS

IX. I LEARN A LITTLE LATIN AND A GREAT DEAL OF LIFE

X. IN WHICH I GROW UP

XI. IN WHICH I ENTER SOCIETY AND GET A FALL

XII. I WALK INTO THE COUNTRY AND MEET WITH AN ADVENTURE

XIII. IN WHICH I RUN AGAINST TRADITIONS

XIV. IN WHICH I TEST MY STRENGTH

XV. A MEETING IN THE ENCHANTED GARDEN

XVI. IN WHICH SALLY SPEAKS HER MIND

XVII. IN WHICH MY FORTUNES RISE

XVIII. THE PRINCIPLES OF MISS MATOACA

XIX. SHOWS THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE

XX. IN WHICH SOCIETY RECEIVES US

XXI. I AM THE WONDER OF THE HOUR

XXII. THE MAN AND THE CLASS

XXIII. IN WHICH I WALK ON THIN ICE

XXIV. IN WHICH I GO DOWN

XXV. WE FACE THE FACTS AND EACH OTHER

XXVI. THE RED FLAG AT THE GATE

XXVII. WE CLOSE THE DOOR BEHIND US

XXVIII. IN WHICH SALLY STOOPS

XXIX. IN WHICH WE RECEIVE VISITORS

XXX. IN WHICH SALLY PLANS

XXXI. THE DEEPEST SHADOW

XXXII. I COME TO THE SURFACE

XXXIII. THE GROWING DISTANCE

XXXIV. THE BLOW THAT CLEARS

XXXV. THE ULTIMATE CHOICE

THE ROMANCE OF A PLAIN MAN

CHAPTER I

IN WHICH I APPEAR WITH FEW PRETENSIONS

As the storm broke and a shower of hail rattled like a handful of pebbles against our little window, I choked back a sob and edged my small green painted stool a trifle nearer the hearth. On the opposite side of the wire fender, my father kicked off his wet boots, stretched his feet, in grey yarn stockings, out on the rag carpet in front of the fire, and reached for his pipe which he had laid, still smoking, on the floor under his chair.

"It's as true as the Bible, Benjy," he said, "that on the day you were born yo' brother President traded off my huntin' breeches for a yaller pup."

My knuckles went to my eyes, while the smart of my mother's slap faded from the cheek I had turned to the fire.

"What's become o' th' p p up p?" I demanded, as I stared up at him with my mouth held half open in readiness to break out again.

"Dead," responded my father solemnly, and I wept aloud.

It was an October evening in my childhood, and so vivid has my later memory of it become that I can still see the sheets of water that rolled from the lead pipe on our roof, and can still hear the splash! splash! with which they fell into the gutter below. For three days the clouds had hung in a grey curtain over the city, and at dawn a high wind, blowing up from the river, had driven the dead leaves from the churchyard like flocks of startled swallows into our little street. Since morning I had watched them across my mother's "prize" red geranium upon our window sill now whipped into deep swirls and eddies over the sunken brick pavement, now rising in sighing swarms against the closed doors of the houses, now soaring aloft until they flew almost as high as the living swallows in the belfry of old Saint John's. Then as the dusk fell, and the street lamps glimmered like blurred stars through the rain, I drew back into our little sitting room, which glowed bright as an ember against the fierce weather outside.

Half an hour earlier my father had come up from the marble yard, where he spent his days cutting lambs and doves and elaborate ivy wreaths in stone, and the smell from his great rubber coat, which hung drying before the kitchen stove, floated with the aroma of coffee through the half open door... Continue reading book >>




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