第107章
- The Poet at the Breakfast Table
- Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.
- 916字
- 2016-03-02 16:33:39
It was most inopportune, for he was on the point of the great disclosure, but common politeness compelled him to answer it, and as the step which we had heard was that of one of the softer-footed sex, he chose to rise from his chair and admit his visitor.
This visitor was our Landlady.She was dressed with more than usual nicety, and her countenance showed clearly that she came charged with an important communication.
--I did n't low there was company with you, said the Landlady,--but it's jest as well.I've got something to tell my boarders that Idon't want to tell them, and if I must do it, I may as well tell you all at once as one to a time.I 'm agoing to give up keeping boarders at the end of this year,--I mean come the end of December.
She took out a white handkerchief, at hand in expectation of what was to happen, and pressed it to her eyes.There was an interval of silence.The Master closed his book and laid it on the table.The Young Astronomer did not look as much surprised as I should have expected.I was completely taken aback,--I had not thought of such a sudden breaking up of our little circle.
When the Landlady had recovered her composure, she began again:
The Lady that's been so long with me is going to a house of her own, --one she has bought back again, for it used to belong to her folks.
It's a beautiful house, and the sun shines in at the front windows all day long.She's going to be wealthy again, but it doos n't make any difference in her ways.I've had boarders complain when I was doing as well as I knowed how for them, but I never heerd a word from her that wasn't as pleasant as if she'd been talking to the Governor's lady.I've knowed what it was to have women-boarders that find fault,--there's some of 'em would quarrel with me and everybody at my table; they would quarrel with the Angel Gabriel if he lived in the house with 'em, and scold at him and tell him he was always dropping his feathers round, if they could n't find anything else to bring up against him.
Two other boarders of mine has given me notice that they was expecting to leave come the first of January.I could fill up their places easy enough, for ever since that first book was wrote that called people's attention to my boarding-house, I've had more wanting to come than I wanted to keep.
But I'm getting along in life, and I ain't quite so rugged as I used to be.My daughter is well settled and my son is making his own living.I've done a good deal of hard work in my time, and I feel as if I had a right to a little rest.There's nobody knows what a woman that has the charge of a family goes through, but God Almighty that made her.I've done my best for them that I loved, and for them that was under my roof.My husband and my children was well cared for when they lived, and he and them little ones that I buried has white marble head-stones and foot-stones, and an iron fence round the lot, and a place left for me betwixt him and the....
Some has always been good to me,--some has made it a little of a strain to me to get along.When a woman's back aches with overworking herself to keep her house in shape, and a dozen mouths are opening at her three times a day, like them little young birds that split their heads open so you can a'most see into their empty stomachs, and one wants this and another wants that, and provisions is dear and rent is high, and nobody to look to,--then a sharp word cuts, I tell you, and a hard look goes right to your heart.I've seen a boarder make a face at what I set before him, when I had tried to suit him jest as well as I knew how, and I haven't cared to eat a thing myself all the rest of that day, and I've laid awake without a wink of sleep all night.And then when you come down the next morning all the boarders stare at you and wonder what makes you so low-spirited, and why you don't look as happy and talk as cheerful as one of them rich ladies that has dinner-parties, where they've nothing to do but give a few orders, and somebody comes and cooks their dinner, and somebody else comes and puts flowers on the table, and a lot of men dressed up like ministers come and wait on everybody, as attentive as undertakers at a funeral.
And that reminds me to tell you that I'm agoing to live with my daughter.Her husband's a very nice man, and when he isn't following a corpse, he's as good company as if he was a member of the city council.My son, he's agoing into business with the old Doctor he studied with, and he's agoing to board with me at my daughter's for a while,--I suppose he'll be getting a wife before long.[This with a pointed look at our young friend, the Astronomer.]