United States or French Polynesia ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
And he would see Gertie in Joralemon.... She had written to him with so much enthusiasm when he had won the half-mile. He saw Gertie two hours after he had reached Joralemon for a week's stay before going north. They sat in rockers on the grass beside her stoop. They were embarrassed, and rocked profusely and chattily. Mrs.
That afternoon she had been a negligible bit of Joralemon, to be accused of snobbery toward Eddie Klemm, and always to be watched suspiciously lest she "spring some New York airs on us."... Gertie had craftily seemed unchanged after her New York enlightenment till now here she was, suddenly grown-up and beautiful, haloed with a peculiar magic, which distinguished her from all the rest of the world.
He had it ground into him, as grit is ground into your face when you fall from a bicycle, that every one in a city of millions is too busy to talk to a stranger unless he sees a sound reason for talking. He changed the Joralemon Dynamite's phrase, "accept a position" to "get a job" and he got a job, as packer in a department store big as the whole of Joralemon.
Provisions exceedingly ordinary, pork very rusty, biscuit bad. Capt. Travis, Capt. Chatham and others brought out of dungeon. Two prisoners from Jersey, viz: Thomas Campbell of Newark and Joralemon. Troops returned from Jersey. Several prisoners brought to Provost viz: Capt. Varick, Wm. Prevost Brower, etc. Seventeen prisoners from Long Island. Nothing material.
Maybe my mamma will let me play with you if you are a nice boy." "I jus' soon come play with you. If you play soldiers.... My pa 's the smartest man in Joralemon. He builded Alex Johnson's house. He's got a ten-gauge gun." "Oh.... My mamma 's a widow." Carl hung by his arms from the gate-pickets while she breathed, "M-m-m-m-m-m-y!" in admiration at the feat. "That ain't nothing.
They sat under the trees, laughing, while in the dimly lighted street bicycles whirred, and box-elders he had always known whispered that this guest of honor was Carl Ericson, come home a hero. The cycling craze still existed in Joralemon. Carl rented a wheel for a week from the Blue Front Hardware Store. Once he rode with a party of boys and girls to Tamarack Lake.
It filled with glamour the Cowles library the only parlor in Joralemon that was called a library, and the only one with a fireplace or a polished hardwood floor.
"Oh, hell.... Oh, I'm sorry. That just slipped." "It shouldn't have slipped, you know. I'm afraid it can't be passed over so easily." Gertie might have been a bustling Joralemon school-teacher pleasantly bidding the dirty Ericson boy, "Now go and wash the little hands." Carl said nothing. He was bored. He wished that he had not become entangled in their vague discussion of "temperament."
When he had descended acclaimed the winner thousands of heads turned his way as though on one lever; the pink faces flashing in such October sunshine as had filled the back yard of Oscar Ericson, in Joralemon, when a lonely Carl had performed duration feats for a sparrow. That same shy Carl wanted to escape from the newspaper-men who came running toward him.
Adelaide assumed that one remained in the state of mind called Joralemon all one's life; that, however famous he might be, the son of Oscar Ericson was not sufficiently refined for Miss Cowles of the Big House on the Hill, though he might improve under Cowles influences. He was still a person who had run away from Plato!
Word Of The Day