United States or Uruguay ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
She glared at the intruder and threw up her chin. Johnetta stared at her aghast. "Why, my dear! you aren't mad at me, are you?" Mrs. Budlong smiled bitterly, and said nothing. Johnetta shrilled: "Why, what have I done?" As a matter of fact, what had she done? All that Mrs. Budlong could think of was her husband's unused suggestion for a war with Sally Swezey.
Her cheek was cold and white and her heart beat loud and fast, but she tried to set her double chin into a square jaw, and she passed Sally Swezey as if Sally Swezey were a lamp-post by the curb a common lamp-post by the curb, and nothing more. She heard Sally's gush of greeting stop short as if someone had turned a faucet in her throat; she heard a gulp; then she heard a strangled silence.
People in Carthage to whom New York was an inaccessible Carcassone, were now planning to visit Mrs. Budlong there at the palatial home she had described. Some of them frankly told her they were coming to see her. Wealth took on a new discomfort. Sally Swezey afflicted the telephone with gossip: "As Mrs.
"And what do you intend to do this time?" Mr. Budlong demanded. The skeptic in his tone stung her to revolt. She could usually be strong in the presence of her husband. She looked at least like Mrs. Boadicea as she said: "I intend to tell Sally Swezey what you told me to. And I will accept no apologies, none whatever." When Mr. Budlong came home to dinner she avoided his gaze.
Budlong had received fair warning, but she felt about as grateful as a wayfarer feels to the rattlesnake that whizzes "Make r-r-r-ready for the corrroner-r-r." Next, young Mrs. When Sally Swezey came to the Progressive Euchre skirmish at Mrs. Budlong's she noted with joy that her hint had borne fruit. The prizes were indeed of solid gold. Mr.
One morning she was called to the telephone by the merciless Sallie Swezey with a new infliction. There was something almost ghoulish in Mrs. Swezey's cackling glee as she sang out across the wire: "We're all so glad, my dear, that the next meeting of the Progressive Euchre is to be at your house." Mrs. Budlong's chin dropped. She had quite forgotten this.
"Women don't need any real excuse. You simply telephone Sally Swezey that a certain person told you and you won't name any names that she had been making fun of you and you'd be much obliged if she never spoke to you again for you'd certainly never speak to her again." "But how do I know Sally Swezey has been making fun of me?" "Oh, there ain't any doubt but what everybody in town is doing that."
"She told Sally Swezey and Sally Swezey told me that I used my Carthage presents to send to relatives in other towns." "She flattered you at that," said Mr. Budlong unconsolingly. "But don't you dream of forgiving her till after Christmas." Mrs. Budlong was having such a good cry, and enjoying the optical hath so heartily, that her grief became very precious to her.
But the crowds and the prices and the servility of the salesfolk drove her out again. On her laggard way home she saw Sally Swezey, lean and lanky and somehow reminding her of a flamingo. Sally espied her from afar and stepped a little higher. Mrs. Budlong remembered her husband's suggestion. She made a quick resolution to do or die.
Word Of The Day