Біла пташка
Her Marriage, Her Clothes, Her Appetite, and an Inventory of Her Furniture
“Didshebuildthestudiowithherownhands?”
No,buthowshehadalteredit.
“Howshealterseverything,”Isaid.“Doyouthinkyouaresafe,ma’am?”
Shethawedalittleundermyobvioussympathyandhonouredmewithsomeofherviewsandconfidences.TherentalpaidbyMaryandherhusbandwasnot,itappeared,oneonwhichanyself-respectingdomesticcouldreflectwithpride.Theygotthehouseverycheapontheunderstandingthattheyweretovacateitpromptlyifanyoneboughtitforbuildingpurposes,andbecausetheypaidsolittletheyhadtosubmittotheindignityofthenotice-board.MaryA——detestedthewords“Thisspacetobesold,”andhadbeenknowntoshakeherfistatthem.Shewasaselatedaboutherhouseasifitwerearealhouse,andalwaystrembledwhenanypossiblepurchaserofspacescalled.
AsIhavetoldyoumyownaphorismIfeelIoughtinfairnesstorecordthatofthisaggrievedservant.Itwasonthesubjectofart.“Thedifficulty,”shesaid,“isnottopaintpictures,buttogetframesforthem.”Ahomethrustthis.
Shecouldnothonestlysaythatshethoughtmuchofhermaster’swork.Nor,apparently,didanyotherperson.Result,tinnedmeats.
Yes,onepersonthoughtadealofit,orpretendedtodoso;wasconstantlyflingingupherhandsindelightoverit;hadevenbeencaughtwhisperingfiercelytoafriend,“Praiseit,praiseit,praiseit!”Thiswaswhenthepainterwassunkingloom.Never,asIcouldwellbelieve,wassuchaoneasMaryforluringamanbacktocheerfulness.
