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"They are John Gurnsey and his sister, Julia; but the whole town knows them by the names they long ago gave themselves, 'Jack' and 'Jill." "And do they live all alone in the little house?" "Yes, except for the Widow Glaspell, who comes in several times a week, I believe, to cook and wash and sweep.
It is always interesting to study the achievement of a novelist who has won distinction deservedly in that field, when that novelist attempts the very different technique of the short story. It is particularly interesting in the case of Susan Glaspell, because with these two stories she convinces the reader that her future really lies in the short story rather than in the novel.
When I told Mis' Holly, she said she was glad it happened, 'cause what Mis' Somers needed was somethin' ter git her out of herself an' I'm free ter say she did look better-natured, an' no mistake, kind o' like a chokecherry in blossom, ye might say." "An' then there's the Widder Glaspell," continued Perry, after a pause.
When he demanded, "I'd like to stage 'Suppressed Desires, by Cook and Miss Glaspell," Carol ceased to be patronizing. He was not the yearner: he was the artist, sure of his vision. "I'd make it simple. Use a big window at the back, with a cyclorama of a blue that would simply hit you in the eye, and just one tree-branch, to suggest a park below. Put the breakfast table on a dais.
Of course there are things like catching fish, and killing birds and squirrels and other things to eat, and plaguing cats and dogs. Father never would have called those beautiful. Then there are others like little Jimmy Clark who can't walk, and the man at the Marstons' who's sick, and Joe Glaspell who is blind. Then there are still different ones like Mr. Holly's little boy.
In her latest and best book, Men Women, and Ghosts, besides the two admirable long narratives, we have poems of patriotism, outdoor lyrics, town eclogues, pictures of still life tragic pastorals in the manner of Susan Glaspell, and one delightful revenant, Nightmare, which takes us back to Dickens, for it is a verse comment on a picture by George Cruikshank.
"And there's truth more truth than you know in it all, too. But I can't do it, David, not that not that. 'T would take more than THINKING to bring that," she added, under her breath, as if to herself. "But thinking does bring things," maintained David earnestly. "There's Joe Joe Glaspell. His mother works out all day; and he's blind." "Blind? Oh-h!" shuddered Miss Holbrook.
Few American writers have such a natural dramatic story sense, and to this Susan Glaspell has added an increasing reticence in the portrayal of her characters. In these two stories you will not find the slightest sentimentalization of her subject matter, nor is it keyed so tightly as some of her previous work.
But, anyhow, Betty Glaspell has been sick with something, and they haven't let folks in there this week," finished Jill, her eyes big with terror. "The Glaspells? But what was David doing down there?" "Why, you know, he told us once, teaching Joe to play. He's been there lots.
The Widow Glaspell, Joe's mother, worked out by the day, scrubbing and washing; and Joe, perforce, was left to the somewhat erratic and decidedly unskillful ministrations of Betty.
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