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Updated: June 29, 2025
"Nobody SAID nothin', you know that was the worst of it; but I'd have been glad if they had. Finally, I said it myself. 'Well, Emeline, says I, 'here I be. "No answer, so I tried again. 'Well, Emeline, says I, 'I've fetched port finally. "She didn't answer me then, but Bennie D. laughed. He had a way of laughin' that made other folks want to cry or kill him.
He was a salesman for some lines of tailored hats, a San Franciscan, but employed by a New York wholesale house. Emeline chanced to be alone in the place, for Miss Clarke was sick in bed, and the other saleswoman away on her vacation. The trimmers, glancing out through a plush curtain at the rear, saw Miss Cox and the "drummer" absorbed in a three hours' conversation.
Emeline, finishing her task, glanced over her shoulder at him. She did not know how tantalizingly her face, close and clear in skin texture as the petal of a lily, flashed out her dislike. A heavier woman's rudeness in her became audacious charm. "I like Beaver Island," she remarked, winding the remaining bits of string into a ball. "'Every prospect pleases, and only man is vile."
About ten days later, unannounced, Emeline came home, and with her came a stout, red-faced, grayhaired man, in whom Julia was aghast to find her father. They reached Mrs. Tarbury's at about four o'clock in the afternoon, and Julia, coming in from a call on a theatrical manager, found them in the dining-room. George had been very ill, and moved ponderously and slowly.
At one she might sally forth in her favourite combination of wrapper and coat to buy cream and rolls, and Julia would be regaled on sausages, hot cakes, bakery cookies, and coffee, or come in to find no lunch at all, and that her mother had gone out for the afternoon. Emeline had grown more and more infatuated with the theatre and all that pertained to it.
"My God, Em, you'll die!" Mrs. Tarbury said frankly. "Why'n't you go somewhere where there's something doing?" "My sporting days are over, Min," George said with mournful satisfaction. "No more midnight suppers in mine!" "Nor mine, either. I guess I'm old enough to settle down," Emeline added cheerfully. She and Mrs.
Right through the worst of it I never did. Let's try it again, Emeline. You're in trouble. You need somebody to help you. Give me the chance." There was a wistful look in her eyes; she seemed, or so he thought, to be wavering. But she shook her head. "I was in trouble before, Seth," she said, "and you didn't help me then. You run off and left me." "You just as much as told me to go.
A second later the stifling odour of block matches drifted through the room, and Emeline lighted a gas jet. "Had your supper?" said she, as George sat down and took the child into his arms. "Nope," he answered, grinning ashamedly. "Thought maybe you and I'd go to dinner somewheres, Em." Emeline was instantly her better self.
In the row of houses opposite Emeline could see slits of gaslight behind lowered shades, and could look straight into the second floor of the establishment that flourished behind a large sign bearing the words, "O'Connor, Modes." Milliners and dressmakers took the first floors, and rented the upper rooms; one window said "Mme.
I wish't you'd come out Sunday, Julia, I cooked a real good dinner, didn't I, Ma?" Mrs. Cox did not hear, and Julia turned to her mother. "Made up your mind really to go, Ju?" Mrs. "Oh, really! We leave on the seventh." "I've always wanted to go somewheres on a ship," Emeline said. "Didn't care so much what it was when I got there, but wanted to go!" "So have I," contributed Mrs. Torney.
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