[OHenryana] [Editorial] Modernize hyphenation and spelling
This commit is contained in:
vr8ce
parent
2f7a46167d
commit
1d95017f5c
@ -8,7 +8,7 @@
|
||||
<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||||
<section id="a-lunar-episode" epub:type="volume se:short-story">
|
||||
<h2 epub:type="title">A Lunar Episode</h2>
|
||||
<p>The scene was one of supernatural weirdness. Tall, fantastic mountains reared their seamed peaks over a dreary waste of igneous rock and burned-out lava beds. Deep lakes of black water stood motionless as glass under frowning, honey-combed crags, from which ever and anon dropped crumbled masses with a sullen plunge. Vegetation there was none. Bitter cold reigned and ridges of black and shapeless rocks cut the horizon on all sides. An extinct volcano loomed against a purple sky, black as night and old as the world.</p>
|
||||
<p>The scene was one of supernatural weirdness. Tall, fantastic mountains reared their seamed peaks over a dreary waste of igneous rock and burned-out lava beds. Deep lakes of black water stood motionless as glass under frowning, honeycombed crags, from which ever and anon dropped crumbled masses with a sullen plunge. Vegetation there was none. Bitter cold reigned and ridges of black and shapeless rocks cut the horizon on all sides. An extinct volcano loomed against a purple sky, black as night and old as the world.</p>
|
||||
<p>The firmament was studded with immense stars that shone with a wan and spectral light. Orion’s belt hung high above.</p>
|
||||
<p>Aldebaran faintly shone millions of miles away, and the earth gleamed like a new-risen moon with a lurid, blood-like glow.</p>
|
||||
<p>On a lofty mountain that hung toppling above an ink-black sea stood a dwelling built of stone. From its solitary window came a bright light that gleamed upon the misshapen rocks. The door opened and two men emerged locked in a deadly struggle.</p>
|
||||
|
||||
@ -16,7 +16,7 @@
|
||||
<p>Interposed, and irrelevant to the story, was the information that coal mines had been discovered later on the Rankin lands, and now the Galloway Rankins were to be computed among the millionaries.</p>
|
||||
<p>All that was long enough ago for there to be now a daughter, twenty years of age—Miss Annabel Rankin—for whose relief the services of <abbr>Dr.</abbr> Prince was petitioned.</p>
|
||||
<p>Then followed, in <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Rankin’s statement, a description of the mysterious, though by her readily accounted for, affliction.</p>
|
||||
<p>It seemed that there was a peculiar difficulty in the young lady’s powers of locomotion. In walking, a process requiring a coordination and unanimity of the functions—<abbr>Dr.</abbr> Prince, said <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Rankin, would understand and admit the non-existence of a necessity for anatomical specification—there persisted a stubborn opposition, a most contrary and counteracting antagonism. In those successively progressive and generally unconsciously automatic movements necessary to proper locomotion, there was a violent lack of harmony and mutuality. To give an instance cited by <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Rankin—if Miss Annabel desired to ascend a stairway, one foot would be easily advanced to the step above, but instead of aiding and abetting its fellow, the other would at once proceed to start downstairs. By a strong physical and mental effort the young lady could walk fairly well for a short distance but suddenly the rebellious entities would become uncontrollable, and she would be compelled to turn undesirable corners, to enter impossible doorways, to dance, shuffle, sidestep and perform other undignified and distressing evolutions.</p>
|
||||
<p>It seemed that there was a peculiar difficulty in the young lady’s powers of locomotion. In walking, a process requiring a coordination and unanimity of the functions—<abbr>Dr.</abbr> Prince, said <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Rankin, would understand and admit the nonexistence of a necessity for anatomical specification—there persisted a stubborn opposition, a most contrary and counteracting antagonism. In those successively progressive and generally unconsciously automatic movements necessary to proper locomotion, there was a violent lack of harmony and mutuality. To give an instance cited by <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Rankin—if Miss Annabel desired to ascend a stairway, one foot would be easily advanced to the step above, but instead of aiding and abetting its fellow, the other would at once proceed to start downstairs. By a strong physical and mental effort the young lady could walk fairly well for a short distance but suddenly the rebellious entities would become uncontrollable, and she would be compelled to turn undesirable corners, to enter impossible doorways, to dance, shuffle, sidestep and perform other undignified and distressing evolutions.</p>
|
||||
<p>After setting forth these lamentable symptoms, <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Rankin emphatically asserted her belief that the affliction was the result of heredity—of the union between the naturally opposing and contrary Beall and Rankin elements. She believed that the inherited spirit of the ancient feud had taken on physical manifestations, exhibiting them in the person of the unfortunate outcome of the union of opposites. That in Miss Annabel Rankin was warring the imperishable antipathy of the two families. In other words, that one of Miss Rankin’s—that is to say, that when Miss Rankin took a step it was a Beall step, and the next one was dominated by the bequeathed opposition of the Rankins.</p>
|
||||
<p>Doctor Prince received the communication with his usual grave, professional attention, and promised to call the next day at ten to inspect the patient.</p>
|
||||
<p>Promptly at the hour his electric runabout turned into the line of stylish autos and hansoms that wait along the pavements before the most expensive hostelry on American soil.</p>
|
||||
@ -33,7 +33,7 @@
|
||||
<p>Miss Annabel, gentle and melancholy, fell an easy victim—or, I should say, subject—to the professor’s influence. Previously instructed by Doctor Prince in the nature of the malady he was about to combat, the dealer in mental drugs proceeded to offer “suggestion “(in the language of his school) to the afilicted and unconscious young lady, impressing her mind with the conviction that her affliction was moonshine and her perambulatory powers without impairment.</p>
|
||||
<p>When the spell was removed Miss Rankin sat up, looking a little bewildered at first, and then rose to her feet, walking straight across the room with the grace, the sureness and the ease of a Diana, a Leslie-Carter, or a Vassar basketball champion. Miss Annabel’s sad face was now lit with hope and joy. <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Rankin of Southern susceptibility wept a little, delightedly, upon a minute lace handkerchief. Miss Annabel continued to walk about firmly and accurately, in absolute control of the machinery necessary for her so to do. Doctor Prince quietly congratulated Professor Adami, and then stepped forward, smilingly rubbing his nose glasses with an air. His position enabled him to overshadow the hypnotizer who, contented to occupy the background temporarily, was busy estimating in his mind with how large a bill for services he would dare to embellish the occasion when he should come to the front.</p>
|
||||
<p>Amid repeated expressions of gratitude, the two professional gentlemen made their adieus, a little elated at the success of the treatment which, with one of them, had been an experiment, with the other an exhibition.</p>
|
||||
<p>As the door closed behind them. Miss Annabel, her usually serious and pensive temper somewhat en-livened by the occasion, sat at the piano and dashed into a stirring march. Outside, the two men moving toward the elevator heard a scream of alarm from her and hastened back. They found her on the piano-stool, with one hand still pressing the keys. The other arm was extended rigidly to its full length behind her, its fingers tightly clenched into a pink and pretty little fist. Her mother was bending over her, joining in the alarm and surprise. Miss Rankin rose from the stool, now quiet, but again depressed and sad.</p>
|
||||
<p>As the door closed behind them. Miss Annabel, her usually serious and pensive temper somewhat enlivened by the occasion, sat at the piano and dashed into a stirring march. Outside, the two men moving toward the elevator heard a scream of alarm from her and hastened back. They found her on the piano-stool, with one hand still pressing the keys. The other arm was extended rigidly to its full length behind her, its fingers tightly clenched into a pink and pretty little fist. Her mother was bending over her, joining in the alarm and surprise. Miss Rankin rose from the stool, now quiet, but again depressed and sad.</p>
|
||||
<p>“I don’t know what did it,” she said, plaintively; “I began to play and that arm shot back. It wouldn’t stay near the piano while the other one was there.”</p>
|
||||
<p>A ping-pong table stood in the room.</p>
|
||||
<p>“A little game, Miss Rankin,” cried Professor Adami, gayly, trying to feel his way.</p>
|
||||
@ -60,7 +60,7 @@
|
||||
<footer>
|
||||
<p epub:type="z3998:valediction">Your very own</p>
|
||||
<p class="signature">Annabel.</p>
|
||||
<p epub:type="z3998:postscript"><abbr>P.S.</abbr>—On second thoughts, I will ask you not to call this evening, as I shall be otherwise engaged. Perhaps it has never occurred to you that there may be two opinions about the vast pleasure you seem to think your society affords others. Clothes and the small talk of club-houses and racetracks hardly ever succeed in making a man without other accessories.</p>
|
||||
<p epub:type="z3998:postscript"><abbr>P.S.</abbr>—On second thoughts, I will ask you not to call this evening, as I shall be otherwise engaged. Perhaps it has never occurred to you that there may be two opinions about the vast pleasure you seem to think your society affords others. Clothes and the small talk of clubhouses and racetracks hardly ever succeed in making a man without other accessories.</p>
|
||||
<p epub:type="z3998:valediction">Very respectfully,</p>
|
||||
<p class="signature">Annabel Rankin.</p>
|
||||
</footer>
|
||||
@ -69,11 +69,11 @@
|
||||
<p>“Ah!” exclaimed Doctor Prince, aloud, but addressing the exclamation to himself; “driven from the arms to the heart!” He perceived that the mysterious hereditary contrariety had, indeed, taken up its lodging in that tender organ of the afflicted maiden.</p>
|
||||
<p>The gilded youth was dismissed, with the promise that Doctor Prince would make a professional call upon Miss Rankin. He did so soon, in company with Professor Adami, after they had discussed the strange course taken by this annoying heritage of the Bealls and Rankins. This time, as the location of the disorder required that the subject be approached with ingenuity, some diplomacy was exercised before the young lady could be induced to submit herself to the professor’s art. But evidently she did so, and emerged from the trance as usual without a trace of unpleasant effect.</p>
|
||||
<p>With much interest and some anxiety Doctor Prince passed several days awaiting the report of <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Ashburton, who, indeed, of all others would have to be depended upon to observe improvements, if any had occurred. One morning that youth dropped in, jubilant.</p>
|
||||
<p>“It’s all right, you know,” he declared, cheerfully. “Miss Rankin’s herself again. She’s as sweet as cream, and the trouble’s all off. Never a cross word or look. I’m her ducky, all right. She won’t believe what I tell her about the way she used to treat me. Intimates I make up the stories. But it’s all right now—everything’s running on rubber tires. Awfully obliged to you and the old boy—er—the medium, you know. And I say, now, Doctor Prince, there’s a wonderful improvement in Miss Rankin in every way. She used to be rather stiff, don’t you understand—sort of superior, in a way—bookish, and a habit of thinking things, you know. Well, she’s cured all round—she’s a topper now of any bunch in the set—swell and stylish and lively! Oh, the crowd will fall in to her lead when she becomes <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> T. Ripley. Now, I say. Doctor Prince, you and the—er—medium gentleman come and take supper to-night with <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> and Miss Rankin and me. I’d be delighted if you would, now—I would indeed—just for you to see, you know, the improvement in Miss Rankin.”</p>
|
||||
<p>“It’s all right, you know,” he declared, cheerfully. “Miss Rankin’s herself again. She’s as sweet as cream, and the trouble’s all off. Never a cross word or look. I’m her ducky, all right. She won’t believe what I tell her about the way she used to treat me. Intimates I make up the stories. But it’s all right now—everything’s running on rubber tires. Awfully obliged to you and the old boy—er—the medium, you know. And I say, now, Doctor Prince, there’s a wonderful improvement in Miss Rankin in every way. She used to be rather stiff, don’t you understand—sort of superior, in a way—bookish, and a habit of thinking things, you know. Well, she’s cured all round—she’s a topper now of any bunch in the set—swell and stylish and lively! Oh, the crowd will fall in to her lead when she becomes <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> T. Ripley. Now, I say. Doctor Prince, you and the—er—medium gentleman come and take supper tonight with <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> and Miss Rankin and me. I’d be delighted if you would, now—I would indeed—just for you to see, you know, the improvement in Miss Rankin.”</p>
|
||||
<p>It transpired that Doctor Prince and Professor Adami accepted <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Ashburton’s invitation. They convened at the hotel in the rooms of the Rankins. From there they were to proceed to the restaurant honoured by <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Ashburton’s patronage.</p>
|
||||
<p>When Miss Rankin swept gracefully into the room the professional gentlemen felt fascination and surprise conflicting in their feelings. She was radiant, bewitching, lively to effervescence. Her mother and <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Ashburton hung, enraptured, upon her looks and words. She was most becomingly clothed in pale blue.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Oh, bother!” she suddenly exclaimed, most vivaciously, “I don’t like this dress, after all. You must all wait,” she commanded, with a captivating fling of her train, “until I change.” Half an hour later she returned, magnificent in a stunning costume of black lace.</p>
|
||||
<p>“I’ll walk with you downstairs, Professor Adami,” she declared, with a charming smile. Half-way down she left his side abruptly and joined Doctor Prince. “You’ve been such a benefit to me,” she said. “It’s such a relief to get rid of that horrid feud thing. Heavens! Ripley, did you forget those bonbons? Oh, this horrid black dress! I shouldn’t have worn it; it makes me think of funerals. Did you get the scent of those lilacs then? It makes me think of the Kentucky mountains. How I wish we were back there.”</p>
|
||||
<p>“I’ll walk with you downstairs, Professor Adami,” she declared, with a charming smile. Halfway down she left his side abruptly and joined Doctor Prince. “You’ve been such a benefit to me,” she said. “It’s such a relief to get rid of that horrid feud thing. Heavens! Ripley, did you forget those bonbons? Oh, this horrid black dress! I shouldn’t have worn it; it makes me think of funerals. Did you get the scent of those lilacs then? It makes me think of the Kentucky mountains. How I wish we were back there.”</p>
|
||||
<p>“Aren’t you fond of New York, then?” asked Doctor Prince, regarding her interestedly.</p>
|
||||
<p>She started at the sound of his voice and looked up vivaciously.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Indeed I am,” she said, earnestly. “I adore New York. Why, I couldn’t live without theatres and dances and my daily drives here. Oh, Ripley,” she called, over her shoulder, “don’t get that bull pup I wanted; I’ve changed my mind. I want a Pomeranian—now, don’t forget.”</p>
|
||||
@ -85,7 +85,7 @@
|
||||
<p>“The dear, dear child!” exclaimed <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Rankin, happily, to Doctor Prince. “How full of spirits and life she is getting to be! She’s so much improved from her old self.”</p>
|
||||
<p>“Lots,” said Ashburton, proudly and fatuously. “She’s picked up the regular metropolitan gaits. Chic and swell don’t begin to express her. She’s cut out the pensive thought business. Up-to-date. Why she changes her mind every two minutes. That’s Annabel.”</p>
|
||||
<p>At the fashionable restaurant where they were soon seated, Doctor Prince found his curiosity and interest engaged by Miss Rankin’s behaviour. She was in an agreeably fascinating hvimour. Her actions were such as might be expected from an adored child whose vacillating whims were indulged by groveling relatives. She ordered article after article from the bill of fare, petulantly countermanding nearly every one when they were set before her. Waiters flew and returned, collided, conciliated, apologized, and danced at her bidding. Her speech was quick and lively, deliciously inconsistent, abounding in contradictions, conflicting statements, “bulls,” discrepancies and nonconformities. In short, she seemed to have acquired within the space of a few days all that inconsequent, illogical frothiness that passes current among certain circles of fashionable life.</p>
|
||||
<p><abbr>Mr.</abbr> T. Ripley Ashburton showed a doting appreciation and an addled delight at the new charms of his fiancee—charms that he at once recognized as the legal tender of his set.</p>
|
||||
<p><abbr>Mr.</abbr> T. Ripley Ashburton showed a doting appreciation and an addled delight at the new charms of his fiancée—charms that he at once recognized as the legal tender of his set.</p>
|
||||
<p>Later, when the party had broken up, Doctor Prince and Professor Adami stood, for a moment, at a corner, where their ways were to diverge.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Well,” said the professor, who was genially softened by the excellent supper and wine, “this time our young lady seems to be more fortunate. The malady has been eradicated completely from her entity. Yes, sir, in good time, our school will be recognized by all.”</p>
|
||||
<p>Doctor Prince scrutinized the handsome, refined countenance of the hypnotist. He saw nothing there to indicate that his own diagnosis was even guessed at by that gentleman.</p>
|
||||
|
||||
@ -8,16 +8,16 @@
|
||||
<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||||
<section id="the-elusive-tenderloin" epub:type="volume se:short-story">
|
||||
<h2 epub:type="title">The Elusive Tenderloin</h2>
|
||||
<p>There is no Tenderloin. There never was. That is, none that you could run a tape-line around. The word really implies a condition or a quality—much as you would say “reprehensibility” or “cold feet.”</p>
|
||||
<p>There is no Tenderloin. There never was. That is, none that you could run a tapeline around. The word really implies a condition or a quality—much as you would say “reprehensibility” or “cold feet.”</p>
|
||||
<p>Metes and bounds have been assigned to it. I know. Realists have prated of “from Fourteenth to Forty-second,” and “as far west as” <abbr>etc.</abbr>, but the larger meaning of the word remains with me.</p>
|
||||
<p>Confirmation of my interpretation of the famous slaughter-house noun-adjective came to me from Bill Jeremy, a friend out of the West. Bill lives in a town on the edge of the prairie-dog country. At times Bill yearns to maintain the tradition that “ginger shall be hot i’ the mouth.” He brought his last yearning to New York. And it devolved upon me. You know what that means.</p>
|
||||
<p>I took Bill to see the cavity that has been drilled in the city’s tooth, soon to be filled with the new gold subway; and the Eden Musee, and the Flatiron and the crack in the front window-pane of Russell Sage’s house, and the old man that threw the stone that did it when he was a boy—and I asked Bill what he thought of New York.</p>
|
||||
<p>Confirmation of my interpretation of the famous slaughterhouse noun-adjective came to me from Bill Jeremy, a friend out of the West. Bill lives in a town on the edge of the prairie-dog country. At times Bill yearns to maintain the tradition that “ginger shall be hot i’ the mouth.” He brought his last yearning to New York. And it devolved upon me. You know what that means.</p>
|
||||
<p>I took Bill to see the cavity that has been drilled in the city’s tooth, soon to be filled with the new gold subway; and the Eden Musee, and the Flatiron and the crack in the front windowpane of Russell Sage’s house, and the old man that threw the stone that did it when he was a boy—and I asked Bill what he thought of New York.</p>
|
||||
<p>“You may mean well,” said Bill, with gentle reproach, “but you’ve got in a groove. You thought I was underwear buyer for the Blue-Front Dry Goods Emporium of Pine Knob, N. C, didn’t you? Or the junior partner of Slowcoach & Green, of Geegeewocomee, State of Goobers, come on for the fall stock of jeans, lingerie, and whetstones? Don’t treat me like a business friend.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Do you suppose the wild, insensate longing I feel for metropolitan gayety is going to be satisfied by waxworks and razor-back architecture? Now you get out the old envelope with the itinerary on it, and cross out the Brooklyn Bridge and the cab that Morgan rides home in and the remaining objects of interest, for I am going it alone. The Tenderloin, well done, is what I shall admire for to see.”</p>
|
||||
<p>“Do you suppose the wild, insensate longing I feel for metropolitan gayety is going to be satisfied by waxworks and razorback architecture? Now you get out the old envelope with the itinerary on it, and cross out the Brooklyn Bridge and the cab that Morgan rides home in and the remaining objects of interest, for I am going it alone. The Tenderloin, well done, is what I shall admire for to see.”</p>
|
||||
<p>Bill Jeremy has a way of doing as he says he will. So I did not urge upon him the bridge, or Carnegie Hall or the great Tomb—wonders that the unselfish New Yorker reserves, unseen, for his friends.</p>
|
||||
<p>That evening Bill descended, unprotected, upon the Tenderloin. The next day he came and put his feet upon my desk and told me about it.</p>
|
||||
<p>“This Tenderloin,” said he, “is a cross between a fake sideshow and a footrace. It’s a movable feast—somethin’ like Easter, or tryin’ to eat spaghetti with chopsticks.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Last night I put all my money but nine dollars under a corner of the carpet and started out. I had along a bill-of-fare of this here Tenderloin; it said it begins at Fourteenth street and runs to Forty-second, with Fourth avenue and Seventh on each side of it. Well, I started up from Fourteenth so I wouldn’t miss any of it. Lots of people was travellin’ on the streets in a hurry. Thinks I, the Tenderloin’s sizzlin’ to-night; if I don’t hurry I won’t get a seat at the performance.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Last night I put all my money but nine dollars under a corner of the carpet and started out. I had along a bill-of-fare of this here Tenderloin; it said it begins at Fourteenth street and runs to Forty-second, with Fourth avenue and Seventh on each side of it. Well, I started up from Fourteenth so I wouldn’t miss any of it. Lots of people was travellin’ on the streets in a hurry. Thinks I, the Tenderloin’s sizzlin’ tonight; if I don’t hurry I won’t get a seat at the performance.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Most of the crowd seemed to be goin’ up and I went up. And then they seemed to be goin’ down, and I went down. I asks a man in a light overcoat with a blue jaw leanin’ against a lamppost where was this Tenderloin.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Up that way,” he says, wavin’ his finger-ring.</p>
|
||||
<p>“ ‘How’ll I know it when I get to it?’ I asks.</p>
|
||||
@ -27,15 +27,15 @@
|
||||
<p>“I goes on uptown, and seein’ nothin’ particular in the line of sinful delight, I strikes ’crosstown to another avenue. That was Sixth, I reckon. People was still walkin’ up and down, puttin’ first one foot in front and then the other in the irreligious and wicked manner that I suppose has given the Tenderloin its frivolous reputation. Street cars was runnin’ past, most impious and unregenerate; and the profligate Dagoes was splittin’ chestnuts to roast with a wild abandon that reminded me considerably of doings in Paris, France. The dissipated bootblacks was sleepin’ in their chairs, and the roast peanut whistles sounded gay and devilish among the mad throng that leaned ag’inst the awnin’ posts.</p>
|
||||
<p>“A fellow with a high hat and brass buttons gets down off the top of his covered sulky, and says to me, ‘Keb, sir?’</p>
|
||||
<p>‘ “Whereabouts is this Tenderloin, Colonel?’ I asks.</p>
|
||||
<p>“ ‘You’re right in the centre of it, boss,’ says he. ‘You are standin’ right now on the wickedest corner in New York. Not ten feet from here a push-cart man had his pocket picked last night; and if you’re here for a week I can show you at least two moonlight trolley parties go by on the New Amsterdam line.’</p>
|
||||
<p>“ ‘You’re right in the centre of it, boss,’ says he. ‘You are standin’ right now on the wickedest corner in New York. Not ten feet from here a pushcart man had his pocket picked last night; and if you’re here for a week I can show you at least two moonlight trolley parties go by on the New Amsterdam line.’</p>
|
||||
<p>“ ‘Look here,’ says I, ‘I’m out for a razoo. I’ve got nine iron medallions of Liberty wearin’ holes in my pocket linin’. I want to split this Tenderloin in two if there’s anything in it. Now put me on to something that’s real degraded and boisterous and sizzling with cultured and uproarious sin. Something in the way of metropolitan vice that I can be proud of when I go back home. Ain’t you got any civic pride about you?’</p>
|
||||
<p>“This sulky driver scratched the heel of his chin.</p>
|
||||
<p>“ ‘Just now, boss,’ says he, ‘everything’s layin’ low. There’s a tip out that Jerome’s cigarettes ain’t agreein’ with him. If it was any other time—say,’ says he, like an idea struck him, ‘how’d you like to take in the all-night restaurants? Lots of electric lights, boss, and people and fun. Sometimes they laugh right out loud. Out-of-town visitors mostly visit our restaurants.’</p>
|
||||
<p>“ ‘Get away,’ says I, ‘I’m beginnin’ to think your old Tenderloin is nothin’ but the butcher’s article. A little spice and infamy and audible riot is what I am after. If you can’t furnish it go back and climb on your demi-barouche. We have restaurants out West’ I tells him, ‘where we eat grub attended by artificial light and laughter. Where is the boasted badness of your unjustly vituperated city?’</p>
|
||||
<p>“The fellow rubs his chin again. ‘Deed if I know, boss,’ says he, ‘right now. You see Jerome’—and then he buds out with another idea. ‘Tell you what,’ says he, ‘be the very thing! You jump in my keb and I’ll drive you over to Brooklyn. My aunt’s giving a euchre party to-night,’ says he, ‘because Miles O’Reilly is busy, watchin’ the natatorivun—somebody tipped him off it was a pool-room. Can you play euchre? The keb’ll be $3.50 an hour. Jump right in, boss.’</p>
|
||||
<p>“The fellow rubs his chin again. ‘Deed if I know, boss,’ says he, ‘right now. You see Jerome’—and then he buds out with another idea. ‘Tell you what,’ says he, ‘be the very thing! You jump in my keb and I’ll drive you over to Brooklyn. My aunt’s giving a euchre party tonight,’ says he, ‘because Miles O’Reilly is busy, watchin’ the natatorivun—somebody tipped him off it was a poolroom. Can you play euchre? The keb’ll be $3.50 an hour. Jump right in, boss.’</p>
|
||||
<p>“That was the best I could do on the wickedest corner in New York. So I walks over where it’s more righteous, hopin’ there might be somethin’ doin’ among the Pharisees. Everything, so far as I could see, was as free from guile as a hammock at a Chautauqua picnic. The people just walked up and down, speakin’ of chrysanthemvun shows and oratorios, and enjoyin’ the misbegotten reputation of bein’ the wickedest rakes on the continent.”</p>
|
||||
<p>“It’s too bad. Bill.” I said, “that you were disappointed in the Tenderloin. Didn’t you have a chance to spend any of your money?”</p>
|
||||
<p>“Oh, yes,” said Bill. “I managed to drop one dollar over on the edge of the sinful district. I was goin’ along down a boulevard when I hears an awful hollerin’ and fussin’ that sounded good—it reminded me of a real enjoyable rough-house out West. Some fellow was quarrelin’ at the top of his voice, usin’ cuss words, and callin’ down all kinds of damnation about somethin’.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Oh, yes,” said Bill. “I managed to drop one dollar over on the edge of the sinful district. I was goin’ along down a boulevard when I hears an awful hollerin’ and fussin’ that sounded good—it reminded me of a real enjoyable roughhouse out West. Some fellow was quarrelin’ at the top of his voice, usin’ cuss words, and callin’ down all kinds of damnation about somethin’.</p>
|
||||
<p>“The sounds come out through a big door in a high buildin’ and I went in to see the fun. Thinks I, I’ll get a small slice of this here Tenderloin anyhow. Well, I went in, and that’s where I dropped the dollar. They came around and collected it.”</p>
|
||||
<p>“What was inside. Bill?” I asked.</p>
|
||||
<p>“A fellow told me, when we come out,” said Bill, “it was a church, and one of these preachers that mixes up in politics was denouncin’ the evils of the Tenderloin.”</p>
|
||||
|
||||
@ -8,7 +8,7 @@
|
||||
<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||||
<section id="the-struggle-of-the-outliers" epub:type="volume se:short-story">
|
||||
<h2 epub:type="title">The Struggle of the Outliers</h2>
|
||||
<p>Again to-day, at a certain street, on the ragged boundaries of the city, Lawrence Holcombe stopped the trolley car and got off. Holcombe was a handsome, prosperous business man of forty; a man of high social standing and connections. His comfortable suburban residence was some five miles farther out on the car line from the street where so often of late he had dropped off the outgoing car. The conductor winked at a regular passenger, and nodded his head archly in the direction of Holcombe’s hurrying figure.</p>
|
||||
<p>Again today, at a certain street, on the ragged boundaries of the city, Lawrence Holcombe stopped the trolley car and got off. Holcombe was a handsome, prosperous business man of forty; a man of high social standing and connections. His comfortable suburban residence was some five miles farther out on the car line from the street where so often of late he had dropped off the outgoing car. The conductor winked at a regular passenger, and nodded his head archly in the direction of Holcombe’s hurrying figure.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Getting to be a regular thing,” commented the conductor.</p>
|
||||
<p>Holcombe picked his way gingerly down a roughly graded side street infested with ragged urchins and impeded by abandoned tinware. He stopped at a small cottage fenced in with a patch of stony ground with a few stunted shade-trees growing about it. A stout, middle-aged woman was washing clothes in a tub at one side of the door. She looked around, and smiled a smile of fat recognition.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Good avening, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Holcombe, is it yerself ag’in? Ye’ll find Katie inside, sir.”</p>
|
||||
@ -20,7 +20,7 @@
|
||||
<p>“Ask me no questions about what’s in a gyurl’s heart and I’ll tell ye no lies. Her own mither can’t tell any more than yerself, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Holcombe.”</p>
|
||||
<p>Holcombe stepped inside the cottage. Katie Flynn, with rolled-up sleeves, was ironing a dress of flounced muslin. Criticism of Holcombe’s deviation from his own sphere to this star of lower orbit must have waned at the sight of the girl. Her beauty was of the most solvent and convincing sort. Dusky Irish eyes, one great braid of jetty, shining hair, a crimson mouth, dimpling and shaping itself to every mood of its owner, a figure strong and graceful, seemingly fiill of imperishable life and action—Katie Flynn was one to be sought after and striven for.</p>
|
||||
<p>Holcombe went and stood by her side as she ironed, and watched the lithe play of muscles rolling beneath the satiny skin of her rounded forearms.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Katie,” he said, his voice concealing a certain anxiety beneath a wooing tenderness, “I have come for my answer. It isn’t necessary to repeat what we have talked over so often, but you know how anxious I am to have you. You know my circumstances and position, and that you will have every comfort and every privilege that you could ask for. Say ‘Yes,’ Katie, and I’ll be the luckiest man in this town to-day.”</p>
|
||||
<p>“Katie,” he said, his voice concealing a certain anxiety beneath a wooing tenderness, “I have come for my answer. It isn’t necessary to repeat what we have talked over so often, but you know how anxious I am to have you. You know my circumstances and position, and that you will have every comfort and every privilege that you could ask for. Say ‘Yes,’ Katie, and I’ll be the luckiest man in this town today.”</p>
|
||||
<p>Kate set her iron down with a metallic click, and leaned her elbows upon the ironing board. Her great blue-black eyes went, in their Irish way, from sparkling fun to thoughtful melancholy.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Oh, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Holcombe, I don’t know what to say. I know you’d be kind to me, and give me the best home I could ever expect. I’d like to say ‘yes’—indeed I would. I’d about decided to tell you so, but there’s Danny—he objects so.”</p>
|
||||
<p>Danny again! Holcombe strode up and down the room impatiently frowning.</p>
|
||||
@ -47,16 +47,16 @@
|
||||
<p>“That’s straight,” said Danny. “He’s all right.”</p>
|
||||
<p>Holcombe had only a scratched and slightly reddened chin from a vicious, glancing uppercut from Danny’s left. Danny showed punishment. One eye was nearly closed. His lip was bleeding.</p>
|
||||
<p>Katie was a true woman. Such do not at once crown the victor in the tourney for their favour. Pity comes first. The victor must wait for his own. It will come to him. She flew to the vanquished champion and comforted him, ministering to his bruises. Holcombe stood, serene and smiling, without jealousy.</p>
|
||||
<p>“To-morrow,” he said to Katie, with head erect and beaming eyes.</p>
|
||||
<p>“To-morrow, if you like,” answered Katie.</p>
|
||||
<p>Holcombe minced his precarious way up the ragged hill among the obsolete tinware. His car came along a-glitter with electric lights and jammed with passengers. He jumped to the rear platform and stood there. At his side he found Weatherly, a friend and neighbour, who had also built a house in the suburbs, a few squares from his own.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Tomorrow,” he said to Katie, with head erect and beaming eyes.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Tomorrow, if you like,” answered Katie.</p>
|
||||
<p>Holcombe minced his precarious way up the ragged hill among the obsolete tinware. His car came along aglitter with electric lights and jammed with passengers. He jumped to the rear platform and stood there. At his side he found Weatherly, a friend and neighbour, who had also built a house in the suburbs, a few squares from his own.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Hello, Holcombe,” yelled Weatherly, above the crash of the car. “Been looking over some real estate, out here? How’re <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Holcombe and the young H’s?”</p>
|
||||
<p>“First rate,” shouted Holcombe, “when I left home this morning. How’s the family with you?”</p>
|
||||
<p>“Only so-so. Usual suburban troubles. Servants won’t stay so far out; tradesmen object to delivering goods in the country; cars break down, <abbr class="eoc">etc.</abbr> What’s pleasing you so? Made a lucky deal to-day?”</p>
|
||||
<p>“Only so-so. Usual suburban troubles. Servants won’t stay so far out; tradesmen object to delivering goods in the country; cars break down, <abbr class="eoc">etc.</abbr> What’s pleasing you so? Made a lucky deal today?”</p>
|
||||
<p>Holcombe’s face wore an ecstatic look. He was fingering a little scratch on his chin with one hand. He leaned his head towards Weatherly’s ear.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Say, Bob, do you remember that Irish girl, Katie Flynn, that was with the Spaffords so long a time?”</p>
|
||||
<p>“I’ve heard of her,” said Weatherly. “They say she stayed a year with them without a single day off. But I don’t believe any fairy story like that.”</p>
|
||||
<p>“ ’Twas a fact. Well, I engaged her to-day for a cook. She’s going out to the house to-morrow.”</p>
|
||||
<p>“ ’Twas a fact. Well, I engaged her today for a cook. She’s going out to the house tomorrow.”</p>
|
||||
<p>“Confound you for a lucky dog,” shouted Weatherly, with envy in his tones and his heart, “and you live four blocks further out than we do!”</p>
|
||||
</section>
|
||||
</body>
|
||||
|
||||
@ -14,7 +14,7 @@
|
||||
<p>“Oh, Jack; Jack, papa says no, I cannot go with you. Not love you! Jack, do you want to break my heart? Oh, look, look! the fields are like heaven, so filled with flowers. Why have you no ice? I had ice when I was at home. Can’t you give me just a little piece, my throat is burning?”</p>
|
||||
<p>The humourist wrote: “When a man puts a piece of ice down a girl’s back at a picnic, does he give her the cold shoulder?”</p>
|
||||
<p>The woman feverishly put back the loose masses of brown hair from her burning face.</p>
|
||||
<p>“Jack, Jack, I don’t want to die! Who is that climbing in the window? Oh, it’s only Jack, and here is Jack holding my hand, too. How funny! We are going to the river to-night. The quiet, broad, dark, whispering river. Hold my hand tight. Jack, I can feel the water coming in. It is so cold. How queer it seems to be dead, dead, and see the trees above you.”</p>
|
||||
<p>“Jack, Jack, I don’t want to die! Who is that climbing in the window? Oh, it’s only Jack, and here is Jack holding my hand, too. How funny! We are going to the river tonight. The quiet, broad, dark, whispering river. Hold my hand tight. Jack, I can feel the water coming in. It is so cold. How queer it seems to be dead, dead, and see the trees above you.”</p>
|
||||
<p>The humourist wrote: “On the dead square—a cemetery lot.”</p>
|
||||
<p>“Copy, sir, “yelled the small boy again. “Forms locked in half an hour.”</p>
|
||||
<p>The man bit his pencil into splinters. The hand he held was growing cooler; surely her fever must be leaving. She was singing now, a little crooning song she might have learned at her mother’s knee, and her fingers had ceased moving.</p>
|
||||
|
||||
Loading…
Reference in New Issue
Block a user