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Ragged Lady By: William Dean Howells (1837-1920) |
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By William Dean Howells
Part 1.
I. It was their first summer at Middlemount and the Landers did not know
the roads. When they came to a place where they had a choice of two,
she said that now he must get out of the carry all and ask at the house
standing a little back in the edge of the pine woods, which road they
ought to take for South Middlemount. She alleged many cases in which
they had met trouble through his perverse reluctance to find out where
they were before he pushed rashly forward in their drives. Whilst she
urged the facts she reached forward from the back seat where she sat,
and held her hand upon the reins to prevent his starting the horse,
which was impartially cropping first the sweet fern on one side and then
the blueberry bushes on the other side of the narrow wheel track. She
declared at last that if he would not get out and ask she would do it
herself, and at this the dry little man jerked the reins in spite of
her, and the horse suddenly pulled the carry all to the right, and
seemed about to overset it. "Oh, what are you doing, Albe't?" Mrs. Lander lamented, falling helpless
against the back of her seat. "Haven't I always told you to speak to the
hoss fust?" "He wouldn't have minded my speakin'," said her husband. "I'm goin' to
take you up to the dooa so that you can ask for youaself without gettin'
out." This was so well, in view of Mrs. Lander's age and bulk, and the
hardship she must have undergone, if she had tried to carry out her
threat, that she was obliged to take it in some sort as a favor; and
while the vehicle rose and sank over the surface left rough, after
building, in front of the house, like a vessel on a chopping sea, she
was silent for several seconds. The house was still in a raw state of unfinish, though it seemed to have
been lived in for a year at least. The earth had been banked up at the
foundations for warmth in winter, and the sheathing of the walls had
been splotched with irregular spaces of weather boarding; there was a
good roof over all, but the window casings had been merely set in their
places and the trim left for a future impulse of the builder. A block
of wood suggested the intention of steps at the front door, which stood
hospitably open, but remained unresponsive for some time after the
Landers made their appeal to the house at large by anxious noises in
their throats, and by talking loud with each other, and then talking
low. They wondered whether there were anybody in the house; and decided
that there must be, for there was smoke coming out of the stove pipe
piercing the roof of the wing at the rear. Mr. Lander brought himself under censure by venturing, without his
wife's authority, to lean forward and tap on the door frame with the
butt of his whip. At the sound, a shrill voice called instantly from
the region of the stove pipe, "Clem! Clementina? Go to the front dooa!
The'e's somebody knockin'." The sound of feet, soft and quick, made
itself heard within, and in a few moments a slim maid, too large for a
little girl, too childlike for a young girl, stood in the open doorway,
looking down on the elderly people in the buggy, with a face as glad as
a flower's. She had blue eyes, and a smiling mouth, a straight nose, and
a pretty chin whose firm jut accented a certain wistfulness of her lips.
She had hair of a dull, dark yellow, which sent out from its thick mass
light prongs, or tendrils, curving inward again till they delicately
touched it. Her tanned face was not very different in color from her
hair, and neither were her bare feet, which showed well above her ankles
in the calico skirt she wore. At sight of the elders in the buggy she
involuntarily stooped a little to lengthen her skirt in effect, and at
the same time she pulled it together sidewise, to close a tear in it,
but she lost in her anxiety no ray of the joy which the mere presence of
the strangers seemed to give her, and she kept smiling sunnily upon them
while she waited for them to speak... Continue reading book >>
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Fiction |
Literature |
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