. The long ago. ng at one edge, not really bit-ing—and youd sneak into the dark place under thestairs (or into the pantry)—and reach deep downinto the white sugar barrel—and grab a handful—and sprinkle it over the bread-and-butter—and shakeback into the barrel all that didnt stick to the butter—and then do it all over again—and pat it downhard—and then sprinkle just a little bit more onhurriedly, (because grandfathers cane could beheard tapping down the hall)—and then youemerged with dignity, but with no unnecessary com-motion—and just faded away into the Outer Worldso softly, so gently, so co
. The long ago. ng at one edge, not really bit-ing—and youd sneak into the dark place under thestairs (or into the pantry)—and reach deep downinto the white sugar barrel—and grab a handful—and sprinkle it over the bread-and-butter—and shakeback into the barrel all that didnt stick to the butter—and then do it all over again—and pat it downhard—and then sprinkle just a little bit more onhurriedly, (because grandfathers cane could beheard tapping down the hall)—and then youemerged with dignity, but with no unnecessary com-motion—and just faded away into the Outer Worldso softly, so gently, so contentedly! (Have you tried any bread-and-butter-and-sugarrecently ? Did it taste the same as it used to ? . . No? . . Perhaps you broke it into piecesinstead of beginning at one side and eating straightthrough ? Or maybe you got hold of the cooking Or did you try it with bakers bread ? . . No? . . Well, zf/r^didnt it taste the same?) f://-t^ -^ .^.:==J^. JimmyThe Lamplighter. \ ^ Jimmy, the Lamplighter The sun had gone down behind the willows onthe river-bank. The night-clouds still carried thecrimson-and-purple of the late twilight; and thedeep, still waters of the channel gave back the colorsand the gleam of the first stars that heralded the night The martins chattered under the eaves, scolding some belated member of the clanwho pushed noisily for a lodging-place for the black bat and the darting nighthawk werea-Aving, grim spectres of the dusk. The whip-poor-will w^as crying along the river, and far up-streamthe loon called weirdly across the water A small boy was sitting on grandfathers frontsteps, his elbows on his knees, his chin in his palms,seeing familiar objects disappear in the gatheringdusk, and watching the stars come out. He was safe,very safe—for grandfather had not gone to thedining-room yet, and his arms could be reached forshelter in two or three bounds, if need be. So itwas very pleasant to sit on the steps and see th
Size: 1253px × 1995px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookidlongago01wri, bookyear1916
