DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.68288#0042
20
MEMORIES OF A SCULPTOR’S WIFE
He must have been a rather formidable figure, seated in a
wing chair, in a flowered dressing-gown and slippers, his
bushy eyebrows and hair and beard rather startling to
the younger of the children. He was smoking a long clay
pipe.
They obediently crossed the room with their father, and
stood in front of him, looking like old daguerreotypes in
their big bonnets and pantalettes. My aunt, at first, was
somewhat shy, and hardly spoke. The old man was
cordial, laughed at them, joked with them, asked their
names and ages, and finally glanced about him upon a
near-by table.
*1 wish I had something to give you,’ he said, ‘but I
don’t see anything that children would like.’
Little Mary Ellen seemed about this time to have re-
covered her courage. She was, I think, about six years old.
‘I know what I’d like to have,’ she lisped, looking very
self-conscious, twisting the ribbon of her sash in her two
little hands.
‘Heigh-ho!’ said the President, ‘you know what you’d
like? Well, what is it?’
And after a moment, the child with a great effort, as if
the temptation were too great to resist: ‘I’d like— that
long pipe.’
‘You’d like this pipe?’ repeated the old General. ‘This
pipe that I’m smoking?’ — growing more and more
amused. ‘What on earth would a little girl like you do
with a pipe like this?’
‘I’d blow — soapbubbles,’ said Mary Ellen promptly,
having evidently forgotten her bashfulness.
At this the President threw himself back in his chair,
took the pipe out of his mouth, and laughed.
MEMORIES OF A SCULPTOR’S WIFE
He must have been a rather formidable figure, seated in a
wing chair, in a flowered dressing-gown and slippers, his
bushy eyebrows and hair and beard rather startling to
the younger of the children. He was smoking a long clay
pipe.
They obediently crossed the room with their father, and
stood in front of him, looking like old daguerreotypes in
their big bonnets and pantalettes. My aunt, at first, was
somewhat shy, and hardly spoke. The old man was
cordial, laughed at them, joked with them, asked their
names and ages, and finally glanced about him upon a
near-by table.
*1 wish I had something to give you,’ he said, ‘but I
don’t see anything that children would like.’
Little Mary Ellen seemed about this time to have re-
covered her courage. She was, I think, about six years old.
‘I know what I’d like to have,’ she lisped, looking very
self-conscious, twisting the ribbon of her sash in her two
little hands.
‘Heigh-ho!’ said the President, ‘you know what you’d
like? Well, what is it?’
And after a moment, the child with a great effort, as if
the temptation were too great to resist: ‘I’d like— that
long pipe.’
‘You’d like this pipe?’ repeated the old General. ‘This
pipe that I’m smoking?’ — growing more and more
amused. ‘What on earth would a little girl like you do
with a pipe like this?’
‘I’d blow — soapbubbles,’ said Mary Ellen promptly,
having evidently forgotten her bashfulness.
At this the President threw himself back in his chair,
took the pipe out of his mouth, and laughed.