United States or Portugal ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
And so she slipped out, and soon disappeared in the shadow of the wall. He remained standing by the window, gazing far out over the calm sea, while all the stars in heaven appeared to flit before his eyes. The next time the little curato sat in his confessional, he sat smiling to himself. Laurella had just risen from her knees after a very long confession.
He laid a coarse little garment upon the ragged coverlet. "That!" cried Laurella Passmore, taking it up with angrily tremulous fingers. "My child shain't wear no sech. Hit ain't fittin' for my baby to put on. Oh, I wisht I could git up from here and do about; I'd git somethin' for her to wear!" "Son," said Mrs.
Pap Himes looked at her, at the beads, and gave the fierce, inarticulate, ludicrously futile growl of a thwarted, perplexed animal. "Mother," appealed Johnnie desperately, "do you want the children to go into the mill?" "I don't know but they might as well for a spell," said Laurella Himes, vainly endeavouring to look grown-up, and to pretend that she was really the head of the family.
The island was far behind, and the coast before them lay yet distant in the hot haze. Not a sail was within sight, far or near not even a passing gull to break the stillness. Antonio looked all round, evidently ripening some hasty resolution. The color faded suddenly from his cheek, and he dropped his oars. Laurella looked round involuntarily fearless, yet attentive.
The ailing woman turned restlessly on her pallet. The big, awkward, ill-favoured old man stood with his disproportionately long arms hanging by his sides, staring at her, unaware that his presence half undid the good the leaping flames were doing her. "I wish't Uncle Pros was sitting right over there, t'other side the fire," murmured Laurella dreamily. "How is Pros, Johnnie?"
As they drew near land, such fishermen as they met began shouting after Antonio and gibing at Laurella; but neither of them moved an eyelid, or spoke one word. The sun stood yet high over Procida when they landed at the marina. Laurella shook out her petticoat, now nearly dry, and jumped on shore. The old spinning woman, who in the morning had seen them start, was still upon her terrace.
She tugged at a corner of the pillow, fumbled thereunder with her little brown hand, and dragging out Pap Himes's bankbook, showed it to her daughter, opening at that front page where Pap's clumsy characters made Laurella Himes free of all his savings. "You go right along, Johnnie, and see cain't you help about Mr. Stoddard.
"I thank you; I had rather not;" and Laurella kept her distance. "Fill the glasses, wife; fill them both, I say; she only wants a little pressing." "Don't," interposed the lad. "It is a wilful head of her own she has; a saint could not persuade her to do what she does not choose." And, taking a hasty leave, he ran down to the boat, loosened the rope, and stood waiting for Laurella.
"Just a few nails and a little wrappin' of twine'll make it all right," he informed his niece. "I stopped a-past and borried the nails and the hammer from Jeff Dawes; I mighty nigh pounded my thumb off knockin' in nails with a rock an' a sad-iron last week." "Looks like nobody ain't got no sense," returned Laurella Consadine ungratefully.
The sash was up, and both were carefully wrapped in a big shawl that was drawn over the two of them. "Sis' Johnnie is comin' back; she sure is comin' back soon," Laurella was crooning to her baby. "And we ain't goin' to work in no cotton mill, an' we ain't goin' to live in this ol' house any more.
Word Of The Day