Options by O. Henry


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 87

"All right," said I. "It's a fair field. There are no rights for you
to encroach upon."

On Thursday afternoon Miss Ashton invited North and myself to have tea
in her apartment. He was devoted, and she was more charming than
usual. By avoiding the subject of caps I managed to get a word or two
into and out of the talk. Miss Ashton asked me in a make-
conversational tone something about the next season's tour.

"Oh," said I, "I don't know about that. I'm not going to be with
Binkley & Bing next season."

"Why, I thought," said she, "that they were going to put the Number
One road company under your charge. I thought you told me so."

"They were," said I, "but they won't.. I'll tell you what I'm going
to do. I'm going to the south shore of Long Island and buy a small
cottage I know there on the edge of the bay. And I'll buy a catboat
and a rowboat and a shotgun and a yellow dog. I've got money enough
to do it. And I'll smell the salt wind all day when it blows from the
sea and the pine odor when it blows from the land. And, of course,
I'll write plays until I have a trunk full of 'em on hand.

"And the next thing and the biggest thing I'll do will be to buy that
duck-farm next door. Few people understand ducks. I can watch 'em
for hours. They can march better than any company in the National
Guard, and they can play 'follow my leader' better than the entire
Democratic party. Their voices don't amount to much, but I like to
hear 'em. They wake you up a dozen times a night, but there's a
homely sound about their quacking that is more musical to me than the
cry of 'Fresh strawber-rees!' under your window in the morning when
you want to sleep.

"And," I went on, enthusiastically, "do you know the value of ducks
besides their beauty and intelligence and order and sweetness of
voice? Picking their feathers gives you an unfailing and never
ceasing income. On a farm that I know the feathers were sold for $400
in one year. Think of that! And the ones shipped to the market will
bring in more money than that. Yes, I am for the ducks and the salt
breeze coming over the bay. I think I shall get a Chinaman cook, and
with him and the dog and the sunsets for company I shall do well. No
more of this dull, baking, senseless, roaring city for me."

Miss Ashton looked surprised. North laughed.

"I am going to begin one of my plays tonight," I said, "so I must be
going." And with that I took my departure.

A few days later Miss Ashton telephoned to me, asking me to call at
four in the afternoon.

I did.

"You have been very good to me," she said, hesitatingly, "and I
thought I would tell you. I am going to leave the stage."

"Yes," said I, "I suppose you will. They usually do when there's so
much money."

"There is no money," she said, "or very little. Our money is almost
gone."

"But I am told," said I, "that he has something like two or ten or
thirty millions--I have forgotten which."

"I know what you mean," she said. "I will not pretend that I do not.
I am not going to marry Mr. North."

"Then why are you leaving the stage ?" I asked, severely. "What else
can you do to earn a living?"

She came closer to me, and I can see the look in her eyes yet as she
spoke.

"I can pick ducks," she said.

We sold the first year's feathers for $350.



Previous Page | Next Page


Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Tue 20th Jan 2026, 16:11