Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 15, 2025
On one of his infrequent rounds he had encountered a strange odor in Number One, a suspicious, musty odor that refused to come under the classification of krout, kerosene, or herring. The tenants, in a united body, indignantly defended the smell. "It ain't nothin' at all but Mis' Smelts' garbage," Mrs. Snawdor declared vehemently. "She often chucks it in a hole in the kitchen floor to save steps.
"You don't want to take no risks," said Mrs. Snawdor, importantly. "There's a fool society for everything under the sun, an' somebody'll be tryin' to git out a injunction. I don't mind swearin' to whatever age you got to be, but Mr. Burks is so sensitive about them things." "All right," said Nance, flinging on her hat and coat, "tell 'em how it was when I'm gone.
The principal, while decrying its forcible expression, applauded her good intention, and from that time on took special interest in her. Nance's greatest drawback these days was Mrs. Snawdor.
"'T ain't as if I was doing anything wicked," said Nance, this time counsel for the defense. "Course not," agreed Mrs. Snawdor. "How much they goin' to pay you?" The incredible sum was mentioned, and Mrs. Snawdor's imagination took instant flight. "You'll be gittin' a autymobile at that rate. Say, if I send Lobelia round to Cemetery Street and git yer last week's pay, can I have it?"
Snawdor shook her head impatiently. "I didn't, an' I ain't goin' to! That there Ike Lavinski ain't goin' to run me! He took my Fidy off to that there pest-house where I bet they operate her. He'll pay up fer this, you see if he don't!" She began to cry, but as Nance was too much occupied to give audience to her grief, she betook herself to the first floor to assist in the care of Mrs. Smelts.
Snawdor, who had been sitting in dejected silence before his untouched food, pushed his plate back and sighed deeply. "Now, fer heaven sake, Snawdor," began his wife in tones of exasperation, "can't I do a kind act to a neighbor without a-rufflin' yer feathers the wrong way?" "I cleaned up yer room while you was gone," said Nance, eager to divert the conversation from Mr. Snawdor.
If Mr. Snawdor felt like that about it, there was but one thing to do; to get things cleaned up and try to keep them so. Feeling very important and responsible, she swept and straightened and dusted, while her mind worked even faster than her nimble hands. Standards are formed by comparisons, and so far Nance's opportunity for instituting comparisons had been decidedly limited.
"The gingham dresses go to Fidy," she said with reckless generosity, "the blue skirt to Lobelia, and my Madonna " Her eyes rested wistfully on her most cherished possession. "I think I'd like Rosy to have that when she grows up." "All right," agreed Mrs. Snawdor. "There ain't no danger of anybody takin' it away from her."
"Is your father living?" "I dunno." "Did you go to school last year?" "No." "Why not?" "Didn't have no shoes." "Does your mother work?" This question brought more nudges and glances from Mrs. Snawdor, none of which were lost on the boy. "Me mother don't have to work," he said defiantly. "She's a lady." The judge cleared his throat and called Mrs. Snawdor sharply to order.
She'll slip the children in when you ain't looking and go out herself and see the neighbors. Don't you see that somebody's got to be here that understands?" "The girl's right, Lavinski," said Dr. Adair. "She knows the ropes here, and can be of great service to us. The nurse downstairs can't begin to do it all. Now let us have a look at the patient." Little Mr. Snawdor was hardly worth looking at.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking