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Updated: May 31, 2025
We knew by its opulent feather paunch, by the white-fringed counterpane and by the pillow-shams bearing soporific mottoes worked in turkey-red thread.
She said: "I give a full trance readin' with names, dates, and all questions answered, for a dollar, or a full card readin' for fifty cents. It's impossible to tell much for a quarter." Mrs. Byrne shook her head. Madame Wampa said "Very well," in a tone of haughty resignation. She turned to a booth that had been made of turkey-red chintz in one corner of the room.
This auto steered in to the side of the sidewalk, and the man guiding it motioned to Hopkins to jump into it. He did so without slackening his speed, and fell into the turkey-red upholstered seat beside the chauffeur. The big machine, with a diminuendo cough, flew away like an albatross down the avenue into which the street emptied. The driver of the auto sped his machine without a word.
"You can be mighty sure there's a come-back in it somewhere," was Mrs. Whittle's opinion. "The Deacon says he don't know whether to vote for it or not. We'll have rain before long; and these droughts don't come every summer." Ellen Dix and Fanny Dodge were sitting outside on the porch. Both girls were sewing heart-shaped pieces of white cloth upon squares of turkey-red calico.
As she began to get work, the cheerful, aspiring creature bought herself a Kensington carpet-square, as red as Kensington art would permit it to be. She covered her chairs with Turkey-red cotton, frilling them round the seats. She bought a cheap cushion at one of Liberty's sales, and some bits of twopenny-halfpenny art china for her narrow mantelpiece.
"No, sir," she said, "but we have it in Turkey red." Turkey red again! I surrendered. "All right," I said, "give me Turkey red." "How much, sir?" she asked. "I don't know say five yards." She looked at me rather strangely, but measured off five yards of Turkey-red calico. Then she rapped on the counter and called out "Cash!" A little girl, with yellow hair in two long plaits, came slowly up.
Her cheek spoke of the three pounds she had lost since he had first helped her with her difficulties, and the eleven pounds before that. The hand upon the Turkey-red cloth was of such transparent thinness that you were sure you could see the lamplight shining through. Her eyes were startling, they were so full of other-worldly sweetness and so ringed beneath with shadows.
Rummaging in his bottom bureau drawer, he produced a placard, like a narrow little sign-board, and tucking it under his arm, went on downstairs. The precaution was by no means superfluous. Disgustingly enough the landlady's daughter was once more in his dining-room before him, the paraphernalia of her algebra spread over half the Turkey-red cloth.
By the side of the "Mona Lisa," however, was a cheap brass rack stuffed with photographs: actresses in tights, French quadrille dancers, high kickers, and chorus girls. In the studio, Vandover had tacked great squares and stripes of turkey-red cloth against the walls to serve as a background for his sketches.
Those flaming ferocities known as "turkey-red" cloths, which seem to fairly fly at one, are not only inartistic but altogether too suggestive of economy in laundering to be appetizing table companions. Cloths bought by the yard must be evened at the ends by drawing a thread, and hemmed by hand, never stitched on the machine.
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