DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.68288#0156
114 MEMORIES OF A SCULPTOR’S WIFE
him that he might come with him and see the sights. So
they started off at three o’clock in the morning, the horses
walking along through the beautiful suburbs of Boston,
with the half-grown boy, to whom it was all new, marvel-
ling over the sunrise and the unusual sights at the break of
day.
When they reached the market, the older boy backed up
his cart and told his young assistant to sit there and watch
things while he went off on an errand.
‘If any one should want to buy anything, of course you
could sell it; turnips so much, carrots so much, etc.’
In about twenty minutes he reappeared. ‘Every-
thing all right?* he asked.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Dan, ‘I sold something?
‘What did you sell?’
‘A peck of turnips,’ announced Dan cheerfully, ‘for
nineteen cents.’
‘That’s good,’ and his friend began to climb into the
wagon. He stopped suddenly, ‘Where’s the measure?’
‘Oh,’ demurred Dan apologetically, ‘the man took it off
with him, and said he would bring it back later.’
And he used to say that the way that boy disappeared
around the corner, and after a moment came running back
grasping that measure in his arms, made him feel that his
first venture in bargaining had not been entirely successful!
One of our aunts, Aunt Helen, a friend of our childhood,
was rather a character in the old house and lived there for
many years after the others had passed on. She was intel-
lectual, witty, most interesting, but cared more for worldly
things than had been the habit of the family.
Once, when Dan was telling this turnips story to a group
of young people, my aunt sat listening, then she turned
him that he might come with him and see the sights. So
they started off at three o’clock in the morning, the horses
walking along through the beautiful suburbs of Boston,
with the half-grown boy, to whom it was all new, marvel-
ling over the sunrise and the unusual sights at the break of
day.
When they reached the market, the older boy backed up
his cart and told his young assistant to sit there and watch
things while he went off on an errand.
‘If any one should want to buy anything, of course you
could sell it; turnips so much, carrots so much, etc.’
In about twenty minutes he reappeared. ‘Every-
thing all right?* he asked.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Dan, ‘I sold something?
‘What did you sell?’
‘A peck of turnips,’ announced Dan cheerfully, ‘for
nineteen cents.’
‘That’s good,’ and his friend began to climb into the
wagon. He stopped suddenly, ‘Where’s the measure?’
‘Oh,’ demurred Dan apologetically, ‘the man took it off
with him, and said he would bring it back later.’
And he used to say that the way that boy disappeared
around the corner, and after a moment came running back
grasping that measure in his arms, made him feel that his
first venture in bargaining had not been entirely successful!
One of our aunts, Aunt Helen, a friend of our childhood,
was rather a character in the old house and lived there for
many years after the others had passed on. She was intel-
lectual, witty, most interesting, but cared more for worldly
things than had been the habit of the family.
Once, when Dan was telling this turnips story to a group
of young people, my aunt sat listening, then she turned