Mary E. Wilkins Freeman

“ He had purchased a sideboard. Vilola had always talked about a sideboard for the dining-room some time when they got rich. She had never asked for one. That was not Vilola's way. She had seldom asked for anything in her whole life, but her father had taken note and remembered. The week before, he had gone about anxiously pricing sideboards. He had saved up a certain amount for one. When he found that he could not only purchase a sideboard with his hoard, but a nice little rocking-chair for Vilola's room as well, he was jubilant. ”

“ Don't Vilola Brown always come once a year and spend six months with her father, and then go back to Jefferson and spend six months with her mother? Ain't she done that ever since her father and mother separated when she was a baby? I should think you might know that as well as I do, Elmira Baker."
"Oh, of course I do," said Mrs. Baker; "I was only talking at random. I was only wondering what he was having that room papered for if it was done only a year ago."
"Well, I can tell you," said Mrs. Wells, with asperity. "Some folks have money to throw away for nothing, or think they do. ”

“ The next day his sister Emmeline, too, was to come. Emmeline was a widow who lived with a married son six months, and six, when Vilola was at home, with her brother.
To-night he stood in the dining-room door and surveyed the sideboard again. It looked more beautiful to him than ever. "It's a grand piece of furniture, and no mistake," he said. Then he sat happily down by the kitchen stove, and the cat jumped up in his lap. Suddenly he reflected that a ribbon around the cat's neck would be an appropriate attention. Want a ribbon bow on your neck when she comes home?" he asked the cat. ”

“ HE CHERISHED IT LIKE A CHILD "Guess that pussy-cat will be glad to see her," he muttered, as he sat down to his own supper. Every now and then as he ate he paused, with his fork suspended half-way to his mouth with a bit of toast, and looked upward with an ecstatic expression. His soul was tasting to the full such a savor of anticipatory happiness that he had small comprehension of physical sensations. After he had finished supper, he washed his dishes with painful care. He was particular to put every dish in its place on the pantry shelves. ”

“ When he had shut the front door after the man, Vilola had penetrated the dining-room and discovered the new sideboard. She stood with the cat in her arms, gazing at it, then at him, alternately, speechless. He laughed, at the same time he felt the tears in his eyes. "Well," he said, "well!"
Then Vilola spoke. "Father!" said she. "Father Brown— If you aren't—I never—a new—" It was disjointed, but the more expressive. Joy at its extreme is not sequential. ”

“ The next day, about six o'clock in the afternoon, a thunder-storm was gathering in the northwest. B. F. started for home, and he walked rather quickly in order to reach shelter before the storm broke. The northwest was a livid black with copper lights. There was a confluent mutter of thunder. B. F. came in sight of his house, and saw to his amazement that the front chamber windows were open. He had thought they were closed as usual when Vilola went away. He smelled smoke, and, looking up, saw a thin spiral of blue curling out of the kitchen chimney. ”

“ Other women never accused her of any indiscretion, though they made insinuations against her temper. B. F. had not so strenuously defended her temper, though he never made voluntary mention of it. Vilola supposed that her mother's temper was the reason of the separation. That day, when she and her father were happily seated at dinner, with the turkey and the bouquet of pinks between them, Vilola, when there came a lull in the conversation, said, with an expression which showed that she had had it on her mind to say, "Mother and I have been getting on real nice together lately, father." ”

“ I don't believe B. F. Brown has ever stood quite so well here as he did before."
"Vilola don't take much after her mother, does she?"
"No, she don't. There ain't a homelier girl anywheres around than Vilola Brown, and she hasn't got a mite of style about her, either."
B. F. Brown was rather laboriously making for himself some milk toast for supper. By dint of long practice he could make milk toast, griddle-cakes, and fry a slice of meat or fish and boil a potato. He was not an expert at any household tasks, though he had served long, having an unusual measure of masculine clumsiness. ”

“ They may find out they don't have any more than some other folks in the long run. I can tell you why. When we had that heavy spell of rain last fall, it leaked in that room around the chimney, and there was a place about as big as a saucer stained, that's why."
"Was that all?"
"Yes, that was all. B. F. Brown ain't goin' to have his precious Vilola comin' home to sleep in a room that's got a spot on the paper, if it ain't any bigger than the head of a pin. I don't know what he thinks that girl is." ”

“ He spied a few crumbs on the floor, which he carefully gathered up with his blunted fingers; then he saw a dusty place, which he wiped over with his pocket- handkerchief. He had planned many surprises for his daughter, as he always did on her home-coming. ”

“ Vilola believed that her mother had furnished it from her own income. She had a little income besides the ten dollars a week paid her by her husband.
B. F. Brown had guarded all along his wife's good name so carefully that people, generally speaking, believed in it. There had never been any scandal. People opined that she was a good woman as well as a very pretty one. ”

“ She had not advised her mother of her change of plan. "I guess mother will be surprised," she told her father, when he was seeing her off at the station the next day.
"Now, I don't feel very easy about your getting there at midnight and nobody there to meet you," said B. F. "Hadn't I better send a telegram to your mother?"
"If you do I shall be dreadfully disappointed," said Vilola. "I've set my heart on surprising mother. There's always a carriage at the midnight train ”

“ I don't believe it had been swept since Vilola went away last July."
"I wonder if B. F. Brown makes much money in his store?" said Mrs. Baker.
"I don't believe he makes much," said Mrs. Wells, with angry exultation. "I know lots of folks that won't trade there. They say he never has just what they want. They say Deering, and Lawton, or Hangood and Lewis have a great deal better assortment. I ain't been inside the door since I bought my brown cashmere there, and it faded so after I'd only wore it six months, and he wouldn't allow me anything for it. ”

“ She was going on an earlier train than usual; she usually did not leave until night, arriving in Jefferson the next morning. This time she would travel part of the way by day, and reach her destination about midnight. ”