Little Gray Lady
As every Christmas for the last 20 years, the Little Gray Lady lights a candle in her room and spends the evening alone, thinking of a great mistake she has made so long ago. This year, however, things are to play out differently..
First Page:THE LITTLE GRAY LADY
By F. Hopkinson Smith
Once in a while there come to me out of the long ago the fragments of a story I have not thought of for years one that has been hidden in the dim lumber room of my brain where I store my by gone memories.
These fragments thrust themselves out of the past as do the cuffs of an old fashioned coat, the flutings of a flounce, or the lacings of a bodice from out a quickly opened bureau drawer. Only when you follow the cuff along the sleeve to the broad shoulder; smooth out the crushed frill that swayed about her form, and trace the silken thread to the waist it tightened, can you determine the fashion of the day in which they were worn.
And with the rummaging of this lumber room come the odors: dry smells from musty old trunks packed with bundles of faded letters and worthless deeds tied with red tape; musty smells from dust covered chests, iron bound, holding mouldy books, their backs loose; pungent smells from cracked wardrobes stuffed with moth eaten hunting coats, riding trousers, and high boots with rusty spurs cross country riders these roisterers and gamesters a sorry lot, no doubt... Continue reading book >>
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