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Updated: May 5, 2025
With a little laugh she pulled her own chair, a low, deep rocker, from the bay window, out into the fire's warmth, opposite Jude's spacious chair. Between them she placed a hassock it was nearer her rocker than Jude's chair.
When Alfred had left the room, Jimmy, who was now seated comfortably in the rocker, was rudely startled by a sharp voice at either side of him. "Well!" shrieked Zoie, with all the disapproval that could be got into the one small word. "You're very clever, aren't you?" sneered Aggie at Jimmy's other elbow. Jimmy stared from one to the other. "A nice fix you've got me into NOW," reproved Zoie.
"We'll try and mitigate its horrors," he remarked as they slowly mounted the stairs. "I'll secure the best rocker the room affords, and all the periodicals on the stand, if you say so." "Oh, must I read?" she cried naively. "I thought we might talk, perhaps." He looked away suddenly. He dare not meet her softened gaze just then.
She withdrew, after a word or two of greeting, while Joyce without stirring, said drowsily, "I know you won't ask me to get up, Camille; you are too good-natured. Come, take this easy little rocker and tell me all you know." "No thank you. I've come to put you to the question, my lady!
What I mean is, if you're absolutely off your rocker, but don't find it convenient to be scooped into the luny-bin, you simply explain that, when you said you were a teapot, it was just your Artistic Temperament, and they apologize and go away. So I stood by to hear just how the A.T. had affected Clarence, the Cat's Friend, ready for anything. And, believe me, it had hit Clarence badly.
The old woman dropped her knitting. She swung back in the rocker. She began to tickle Kezia. "Say never, say never, say never," gurgled Kezia, while they lay there laughing in each other's arms. "Come, that's enough, my squirrel! That's enough, my wild pony!" said old Mrs. Fairfield, setting her cap straight. "Pick up my knitting." Both of them had forgotten what the "never" was about.
Tom sat on the top step; Sisters Millie and Pam on the lowest step to catch the lightning bugs. Mother had the willow rocker. Father sat in the big armchair with one of its arms gone. Buff sprawled in the middle of the porch in everybody's way. The twilight pixies and pucks stole forth unseen and plunged other poignant shafts of memory into the heart of Robert. A rural madness entered his soul.
The maples that sheltered the house are thinned out, that the sun may not be excluded, and until its glare becomes too radiant the steamer-chair or the rocker seeks the open that the genial page of "Susan's Escort, and Others," one of the inimitable books of Edward Everett Hale, may be enjoyed in comfort. When midday comes the denser shade of tree or porch is sought, and coats come off.
"Sit down," grunted the ranchman, motioning Bob to one of the straight-backed chairs while he himself sank into the rocker. As Bob obeyed, the dog stretched himself at his feet. Searchingly the ranchman scanned the boy's face, and the silence was becoming embarrassing when Ford broke it by demanding suddenly: "What did you say your name was?" "Bob Nichols." "Where do you come from?" "New York."
Let one of us, for instance, venture at midnight into a dark room be the apartment ever so large with nothing but a rocker in it, and the impression may be gained that the place has been turned into a furniture warehouse. And some persons none of us, to be sure! are never happy while any of the floor or wall space is unoccupied. So the world goes.
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