Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Stories, 1905 to 1906
Nonfiction, Religion & Spirituality, New Age, History, Fiction & Literature
| Author: | Lucy Maud Montgomery | ISBN: | 9781465527639 |
| Publisher: | Library of Alexandria | Publication: | July 29, 2009 |
| Imprint: | Library of Alexandria | Language: | English |
| Author: | Lucy Maud Montgomery |
| ISBN: | 9781465527639 |
| Publisher: | Library of Alexandria |
| Publication: | July 29, 2009 |
| Imprint: | Library of Alexandria |
| Language: | English |
At sunset Sidney hurried to her room to take off The soiled and faded cotton dress she had worn while milking. She had milked eight cows and pumped water for The milk-cans afterward in The fag-end of a hot summer day. She did that every night, but tonight she had hurried more than usual because she wanted to get her letter written before The early farm bedtime. She had been thinking it out while she milked The cows in The stuffy little pen behind The barn. This monthly letter was The only pleasure and stimulant in her life. Existence would have been, so Sidney thought, a dreary, unbearable blank without it. She cast aside her milking-dress with a thrill of distaste that tingled to her rosy fingertips. As she slipped into her blue-print afternoon dress her aunt called to her from below. Sidney ran out to The dark little entry and leaned over The stair railing. Below in The kitchen There was a hubbub of laughing, crying, quarrelling children, and a reek of bad tobacco smoke drifted up to The girl's disgusted nostrils. Aunt Jane was standing at The foot of The stairs with a lamp in one hand and a year-old baby clinging to The Other. She was a big shapeless woman with a round good-natured face—cheerful and vulgar as a sunflower was Aunt Jane at all times and occasions.
At sunset Sidney hurried to her room to take off The soiled and faded cotton dress she had worn while milking. She had milked eight cows and pumped water for The milk-cans afterward in The fag-end of a hot summer day. She did that every night, but tonight she had hurried more than usual because she wanted to get her letter written before The early farm bedtime. She had been thinking it out while she milked The cows in The stuffy little pen behind The barn. This monthly letter was The only pleasure and stimulant in her life. Existence would have been, so Sidney thought, a dreary, unbearable blank without it. She cast aside her milking-dress with a thrill of distaste that tingled to her rosy fingertips. As she slipped into her blue-print afternoon dress her aunt called to her from below. Sidney ran out to The dark little entry and leaned over The stair railing. Below in The kitchen There was a hubbub of laughing, crying, quarrelling children, and a reek of bad tobacco smoke drifted up to The girl's disgusted nostrils. Aunt Jane was standing at The foot of The stairs with a lamp in one hand and a year-old baby clinging to The Other. She was a big shapeless woman with a round good-natured face—cheerful and vulgar as a sunflower was Aunt Jane at all times and occasions.
