Francis Hopkinson Smith

Francis Hopkinson Smith

Summary

Portrait of Francis Hopkinson Smith Francis Hopkinson Smith The Little Gray Lady

Christmas seems her loneliest time. She won’t have but one candle lighted, and she sits and mopes in the dark. Oh, it’s dreadful! I tried to cheer her up, but she says she likes to sit in the dark, because then all the dead people she loves can come to her. Can’t we do something to make her happy? She is so lovely, and she is so little, and she is so dear!”
They had entered the house, now a blaze of light. Kate’s father was standing on the hearth rug, his back to a great fireplace filled with roaring logs.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Francis Hopkinson Smith Francis Hopkinson Smith The Little Gray Lady

The charred logs broke into a heap of coals; the blaze flickered and died. But for the lone candle in the corner the room would have been in total darkness.
“Shall I light another candle, Cousin Annie?” shivered the girl, “or bring that one nearer?”
“No, it’s Christmas Eve, and I only light one candle on Christmas Eve.”
“But what’s one candle! Why, father has the whole house as bright as day and every fire blazing.” The girl sprang to her feet and stepped nearer the hearth. She would be less nervous, she thought, if she moved about, and then the warmth of the fire was somehow reassuring.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Francis Hopkinson Smith Francis Hopkinson Smith The Little Gray Lady

The wives are making ready the supper; the children are romping; lovers are together in the corner where they can whisper and not be overheard. But none of this disturbs me—no big man bursts in, letting in the cold. I have my chair, my candle, my thoughts, and my fire. When you get to be my age, Kate, and live alone—and you might, dearie, if Mark should leave you—you will love these twilight hours, too.”
The girl reached up her hands and touched the Little Gray Lady’s cheek, whispering:
“But aren’t you very, very lonely. Cousin Annie?”
Source: Gutenberg

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