|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 14
"I do not," said the young man. "I come to see Bevens sometimes.
He's my friend. I live two blocks west."
"What are you going to do with the onion?
--begging your pardon," said Hetty.
"I'm going to eat it."
"Raw?"
"Yes: as soon as I get home."
"Haven't you got anything else to eat with it?"
The young man considered briefly.
"No," he confessed; "there's not another scrap of anything in my
diggings to eat. I think old Jack is pretty hard up for grub in his
shack, too. He hated to give up the onion, but I worried him into
parting with it."
"Man," said Hetty, fixing him with her world-sapient eyes, and laying
a bony but impressive finger on his sleeve, "you've known trouble,
too, haven't you?"
"Lots," said the onion owner, promptly. "But this onion is my own
property, honestly come by. If you will excuse me, I must be going."
"Listen," said Hetty, paling a little with anxiety. "Raw onion is a
mighty poor diet. And so is a beef-stew without one. Now, if you're
Jack Bevens' friend, I guess you're nearly right. There's a little
lady--a friend of mine--in my room there at the end of the hall. Both
of us are out of luck; and we had just potatoes and meat between us.
They're stewing now. But it ain't got any soul. There's something
lacking to it. There's certain things in life that are naturally
intended to fit and belong together. One is pink cheese-cloth and
green roses, and one is ham and eggs, and one is Irish and trouble.
And the other one is beef and potatoes with onions. And still another
one is people who are up against it and other people in the same fix."
The young man went into a protracted paroxysm of coughing. With one
hand he hugged his onion to his bosom.
"No doubt; no doubt," said he, at length. "But, as I said, I must be
going, because--"
Hetty clutched his sleeve firmly.
"Don't be a Dago, Little Brother. Don't cat raw onions. Chip it in
toward the dinner and line yourself inside with the best stew you ever
licked a spoon over. Must two ladies knock a young gentleman down and
drag him inside for the honor of dining with 'em? No harm shall
befall you, Little Brother. Loosen up and fall into line."
The young man's pale face relaxed into a grin.
"Believe I'll go you," he said, brightening. "If my onion is good as
a credential, I'll accept the invitation gladly."
"It's good as that, but better as seasoning," said Hetty. "You come
and stand outside the door till I ask my lady friend if she has any
objections. And don't run away with that letter of recommendation
before I come out."
Hetty went into her room and closed the door. The young man waited
outside.
"Cecilia, kid," said the shop-girl, oiling the sharp saw of her voice
as well as she could, "there's an onion outside. With a young man
attached. I've asked him in to dinner. You ain't going to kick, are
you?"
"Oh, dear!" said Cecilia, sitting up and patting her artistic hair.
She cast a mournful glance at the ferry-boat poster on the wall.
"Nit," said Hetty. "It ain't him. You're up against real life now.
I believe you said your hero friend had money and automobiles. This
is a poor skeezicks that's got nothing to eat but an onion. But he's
easy-spoken and not a freshy. I imagine he's been a gentleman, he's
so low down now. And we need the onion. Shall I bring him in? I'll
guarantee his behavior."
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|