Said number
Eighty-eight--he was a big man, as good a fellow at heart as ever
lived, but impulsive--"Damned lucky for you, old man, you did not
tell me at the time."
"I felt," I replied, "instinctively that it was a case for delay."
There are times when one should control one's passion for candour;
and as I was saying, Christmas waits excite no emotion in my breast
save that of irritation. But I have known "Hark, the herald angels
sing," wheezily chanted by fog-filled throats, and accompanied,
hopelessly out of tune, by a cornet and a flute, bring a great look
of gladness to a work-worn face. To her it was a message of hope
and love, making the hard life taste sweet. The mere thought of
family gatherings, so customary at Christmas time, bores us superior
people; but I think of an incident told me by a certain man, a
friend of mine. One Christmas, my friend, visiting in the country,
came face to face with a woman whom in town he had often met amid
very different surroundings. The door of the little farmhouse was
open; she and an older woman were ironing at a table, and as her
soft white hands passed to and fro, folding and smoothing the
rumpled heap, she laughed and talked, concerning simple homely
things.
Pages:
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183