Not a member? Join for FREE here. Existing members login below:

A Modern Cinderella and other stories

A Modern Cinderella Or, The Little Old Shoe
HOW IT WAS LOST
Among green New England hills stood an ancient house, many-gabled, mossy-roofed,
and quaintly built, but picturesque and pleasant to the eye; for a brook ran babbling
through the orchard that encompassed it about, a garden-plat stretched upward to the
whispering birches on the slope, and patriarchal elms stood sentinel upon the lawn, as
they had stood almost a century ago, when the Revoiution rolled that way and found them
young.
One summer morning, when the air was full of country sounds, of mowers in the
meadow, black- birds by the brook, and the low of kine upon the hill-side, the old house
wore its cheeriest aspect, and a certain humble history began.
"Nan!"
"Yes, Di."
And a head, brown-locked, blue-eyed, soft- featured, looked in at the open door in answer
to the call.
Just bring me the third volume of 'Wilhelm Meister,' there's a dear. It's hardly worth
while to rouse such a restless ghost as I, when I'm once fairly laid."
As she spoke, Di PUlled up her black braids, thumped the pillow of the couch where she
was lying, and with eager eyes went down the last page of her book.
"Nan!"
"Yes, Laura," replied the girl, coming back with the third volume for the literay
cormorant, who took it with a nod, still too content upon the "Confessions of a Fair Saint"
to remember the failings of a certain plain sinner.
"Don't forget the Italian cream for dinner. I depend upon it; for it's the only thing fit for
me this hot weather."
And Laura, the cool blonde, disposed the folds of her white gown more gracefully about
her, and touched up the eyebrow of the Minerva she was drawing.
"Little daughter!"
"Yes, father."
 
Remove