- You have recently read
- Clean
Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad
"
"Nothing like that ever happened to me," remarked Mrs. De Graf,
enviously. "If John Merrick had an atom of common sense he'd have taken
me to Europe instead of a troop of stupid school girls. But John always
was a fool, and always will be. When will you start, Beth?"
"To-morrow morning. There's nothing to keep me. I'll go to Patsy and
stay with her until we sail."
"Are you glad?" asked her mother, looking into the expressionless face
half curiously.
"Yes," returned Beth, as if considering her reply; "a change is always
interesting, and I have never travelled except to visit Aunt Jane at
Elmhurst. So I think I am pleased to go to Europe."
Mrs. De Graf sighed. There was little in common between mother and
daughter; but that, to a grave extent, was the woman's fault. She had
never tried to understand her child's complex nature, and somewhat
resented Beth's youth and good looks, which she considered contrasted
unfavorably with her own deepening wrinkles and graying hair. For Mrs.
De Graf was vain and self-important, and still thought herself
attractive and even girlish. It would really be a relief to have Beth
out of the way for a few months.
The girl packed her own trunk and arranged for it to be taken to the
station. In the morning she entered the music room to bid the Professor
good-bye. He frowned at the interruption, for the oratorio was
especially engrossing at the time. Mrs. De Graf kissed her daughter
lightly upon the lips and said in a perfunctory way that she hoped Beth
would have a good time.
The girl had no thought of resenting the lack of affection displayed by
her parents. It was what she had always been accustomed to, and she had
no reason to expect anything different.
Patsy met her at the train in New York and embraced her rapturously.
Patsy was really fond of Beth; but it was her nature to be fond of
everyone, and her cousin, escaping from her smacking and enthusiastic
kisses, told herself that Patsy would have embraced a cat with the same
spontaneous ecstacy.
- Page:
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
- 19
- 20
- 21
- 22
- 23
- 24
- 25
- 26
- 27
- 28
- 29
- 30
- 31
- 32
- 33
- 34
- 35
- 36
- 37
- 38
- 39
- 40
- 41
- 42
- 43
- 44
- 45
- 46
- 47
- 48
- 49
- 50
- 51
- 52
- 53
- 54
- 55
- 56
- 57
- 58
- 59
- 60
- 61
- 62
- 63
- 64
- 65
- 66
- 67
- 68
- 69
- 70
- 71
- 72
- 73
- 74
- 75
- 76
- 77
- 78
- 79
- 80
- 81
- 82
- 83
- 84
- 85
- 86
- 87
- 88
- 89
- 90
- 91
- 92
- 93
- 94
- 95
- 96
- 97
- 98
- 99
- 100
- 101
- 102
- 103
- 104
- 105
- 106
- 107
- 108
- 109
- 110
- 111
- 112
- 113
- 114
- 115
- 116
- 117
- 118
- 119
- 120
- 121
- 122
- 123
- 124
- 125
- 126
- 127
- 128
- 129
- 130
- 131
- 132
- 133
- 134
- 135
- 136
- 137
- 138
- 139
- 140
- 141
- 142
- 143
- 144
- 145
- 146
- 147
- 148
- 149
- 150
- 151
- 152
- 153
- 154
- 155
- 156
- 157
There was once an honest journeyman tailor, by name Labakan, who learned his trade with an excellent master in Alexandria. It could not be said that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he could make excellent work: moreover, one would have done him injustice to have called him lazy. Nevertheless, his companions knew not what to make of him, for he would often sew for hours together so rapidly that the needle would glow in his hand, and the thread smoke, and that none could equal him.
© 2013-2019 FairyTales
Almost all texts on this website are from the Public Domain.