Alice Adams Booth Tarkington (ebook reader txt) đ
- Author: Booth Tarkington
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Alice did not turn to see whether anything of the sort happened or not, but she may have surmised that it did. At all events, it was with an invigorated step that she left the gateway behind her and went cheerfully up the drive to the house of her friend Mildred.
IVAdams had a restless morning, and toward noon he asked Miss Perry to call his daughter; he wished to say something to her.
âI thought I heard her leaving the house a couple of hours agoâ âmaybe longer,â the nurse told him. âIâll go see.â And she returned from the brief errand, her impression confirmed by information from Mrs. Adams. âYes. She went up to Miss Mildred Palmerâs to see what sheâs going to wear tonight.â
Adams looked at Miss Perry wearily, but remained passive, making no inquiries; for he was long accustomed to what seemed to him a kind of jargon among ladies, which became the more incomprehensible when they tried to explain it. A manâs best course, he had found, was just to let it go as so much sound. His sorrowful eyes followed the nurse as she went back to her rocking-chair by the window, and her placidity showed him that there was no mystery for her in the fact that Alice walked two miles to ask so simple a question when there was a telephone in the house. Obviously Miss Perry also comprehended why Alice thought it important to know what Mildred meant to wear. Adams understood why Alice should be concerned with what she herself wore âto look neat and tidy and at her best, why, of course sheâd want to,â he thoughtâ âbut he realized that it was forever beyond him to understand why the clothing of other people had long since become an absorbing part of her life.
Her excursion this morning was no novelty; she was continually going to see what Mildred meant to wear, or what some other girl meant to wear; and when Alice came home from wherever other girls or women had been gathered, she always hurried to her mother with earnest descriptions of the clothing she had seen. At such times, if Adams was present, he might recognize âorgandie,â or âtaffeta,â or âchiffon,â as words defining certain textiles, but the rest was too technical for him, and he was like a dismal boy at a sermon, just waiting for it to get itself finished. Not the least of the mystery was his wifeâs interest: she was almost indifferent about her own clothes, and when she consulted Alice about them spoke hurriedly and with an air of apology; but when Alice described other peopleâs clothes, Mrs. Adams listened as eagerly as the daughter talked.
âThere they go!â he muttered today, a moment after he heard the front door closing, a sound recognizable throughout most of the thinly built house. Alice had just returned, and Mrs. Adams called to her from the upper hallway, not far from Adamsâs door.
âWhat did she say?â
âShe was sort of snippy about it,â Alice returned, ascending the stairs. âShe gets that way sometimes, and pretended she hadnât made up her mind, but Iâm pretty sure itâll be the maize Georgette with Malines flounces.â
âDidnât you say she wore that at the Pattersonsâ?â Mrs. Adams inquired, as Alice arrived at the top of the stairs. âAnd didnât you tell me she wore it again at theâ ââ
âCertainly not,â Alice interrupted, rather petulantly. âSheâs never worn it but once, and of course she wouldnât want to wear anything tonight that people have seen her in a lot.â
Miss Perry opened the door of Adamsâs room and stepped out. âYour father wants to know if youâll come and see him a minute, Miss Adams.â
âPoor old thing! Of course!â Alice exclaimed, and went quickly into the room, Miss Perry remaining outside. âWhatâs the matter, papa? Getting awful sick of lying on his tired old back, I expect.â
âIâve had kind of a poor morning,â Adams said, as she patted his hand comfortingly. âI been thinkingâ ââ
âDidnât I tell you not to?â she cried, gaily. âOf course youâll have poor times when you go and do just exactly what I say you mustnât. You stop thinking this very minute!â
He smiled ruefully, closing his eyes; was silent for a moment, then asked her to sit beside the bed. âI been thinking of something I wanted to say,â he added.
âWhat like, papa?â
âWell, itâs nothingâ âmuch,â he said, with something deprecatory in his tone, as if he felt vague impulses toward both humour and apology. âI just thought maybe I ought toâve said more to you some time or other aboutâ âwell, about the way things are, down at Lamb and Companyâs, for instance.â
âNow, papa!â She leaned forward in the chair she had taken, and pretended to slap his hand crossly. âIsnât that exactly what I said you couldnât think one single think about till you get all well?â
âWellâ ââ he said, and went on slowly, not looking at her, but at the ceiling. âI just thought maybe it wouldnât been any harm if some time or other I told you something about the way they sort of depend on me down there.â
âWhy donât they show it, then?â she asked, quickly. âThatâs just what mama and I have been feeling so much; they donât appreciate you.â
âWhy, yes, they do,â he said. âYes, they do. They began hâisting my salary the second year I went in there, and
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