"God knows I was only a foolish girl," Emeline would say, resting cold
wet feet against the open oven door while Julia pressed a frill. "But
your papa never was anything but a perfect ge'man, never! I'll never
forget one night when he took me to Grant's Cafe for dinner! I was all
dressed up to kill, and George looked elegant--"
A long reminiscence followed.
"I hope to God you get as good a man as your papa," said Emeline more
than once, romantically.
Julia, thumping an iron, would answer with cool common sense:
"Well, if I do, I want to tell you right now, Mama, I'll treat him a
good deal better than you did!"
"Oh, you'll be a wonder," Emeline would concede good-naturedly.
At very long intervals Emeline dressed herself and her daughter as
elaborately as possible, and went out into the Mission to see her
parents. With the singular readiness to change the known discomfort for
the unknown, characteristic of their class, the various young members of
the family had all gone away now, and lonely old Mrs. Cox, a shrivelled
little shell of a woman at sixty-five, always had a warm welcome for her
oldest daughter and her beautiful grandchild.
Pages:
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