Sullivan. And here I reflected that good days often end badly, for
my namesake betrayed extreme dissatisfaction with the food.
"Why don't we have that pudding oftener--with lather on top of it?" was
his first outbreak. And at last he felt obliged to declare bitterly, "We
don't have a thing that's fit to eat!"
"Calvin," said his father, "if I have to whip, it will hurt you worse
than it does me."
Whereupon the complainer was wisely silent, but later I heard him
asserting, between catches of his breath, and out of his father's
hearing:--
"I don't care--(_a sniff_)--when I'm rich, I'll go to Budd's for an
up-to-date dinner, you bet--(_a snuffle_)--I'll probably go there every
day of my life--(_two snuffles_)--yes, sir--Sundays and all!"
I cheered him as best I could.
His sister had saved her day to a happy end, babbling off to bed with
the distressing Irene, to whom she would show a book of pictures until
sleep shut off her little eyelid.
A wise old man--I believe he was a bishop--once said he knew "that
outside the real world is a world of fine fabling."
I had stolen a day from that world. Now I hurried through the gloom of
the hall, past the poor striving hands, to sit with Solon Denney and
tell him of a peculiar thing I had observed during the afternoon's walk.
Pages:
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117