Read Online Spice Box by Grace Livingston Hill - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Grace Livingston Hill
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that, she had to revise all her former ideas of boys.
“You’ve got a good house here,” said the boy suddenly, putting his hand on the stone foundation wall. There was a kind of proprietorship in the gesture, as though he had entered into a partnership with her and was pleased with the outfit.
“Yes, it’s well enough, I guess,” she answered and sighed. “It’s a little lonely, though, for me. I’ve been used to being where there are plenty of people, and the rooms here seem so small and dark.”
She was almost ashamed of her confidential outburst as soon as it was uttered, but the boy looked around with comprehension.
“Houses are that way,” he admitted. “I don’t like ’em myself. I like outdoors best. We fellows go down to the creek about three miles up in the country and camp on a big rock, put up a tent, and cook and lie out at night. Gee! It’s great! You can’t tell which is sky and which is creek sometimes. The fireflies are so big they look like stars, and the stars twinkle around like they were fireflies. Gee, I’d like to live there. The only room I ever saw that was big enough for me was our gym. It isn’t all cut up. It’s big and high and wide. You can breathe and run in it. Gee! I’d like to live in a house like that up there in the picture!” He pointed to the Colosseum. “Wouldn’t that be grand? When it rained you could crawl under a wall till it was over, and other times you’d just have the sky.”
She looked down at his eager face and her own heart entered into his feelings. For a wild moment she felt the call of the open, the irresistible longing for something big and free that she had never before even known she wanted.
“Say, do you wantta know what I’d do if I owned a house like this?” the boy went on. “I’d cut out all those partitions and make a big room out of it, if it were me. And I’d make one side, or a front, or something, all glass. You could do it, easy. You’ve got an alley next to you. Come on out, I’ll show you.”
She followed him out the front door down to the alley and watched his eager face while he pointed to the blank brick wall.
“There’s one down on Diamond Street got a bay window with flowers in it and a bird in a gold cage. You ought to see it. You’ve got room here for any number of windows. I’d get a carpenter if I was you and knock a hole there.” He pointed to the place he visioned for a window. She found her heart leaping with the desire to follow his suggestion, knock out the old dark wall and let in the air and light. What a beautiful thing that would be to do! But what would Aunt Abigail and Uncle Jonathan think if they knew that she even allowed such a thought to be mentioned in her presence? They would look upon it as desecration of their property!
A boy was coming down the street and Ronald put up two grimy fingers to his lips and let forth a shrieking whistle. Martha jumped before she realized what it was. But the boy’s attention was no longer on bay windows and elderly female neighbors. Something was evidently attracting his attention down the street.
“I gotta beat it,” he said hastily. “If you want anything, let me know. I’ll see you! So long!” And he was gone like a flash.
Martha Spicer recovered her senses eventually and realized that she was standing alone in her alley, gazing after a vanishing boy. The neighbors might have cause to think her crazy if she stayed here. She gave one lingering, comprehensive, considering glance at the ugly wall that reared above her, and turned to go in.
Ernestine met her at the door as she went in, and she stooped to pat her lovingly. A sense of well-being and a new zest for life entered into her.
Yet as the night latch clicked, the shadows of Uncle Jonathan and Aunt Abigail met her accusing eyes. Would she tear to pieces a good, respectable house in which they had lived a lifetime? She, a poor relation? What was good enough for them ought to be good enough for
“You’ve got a good house here,” said the boy suddenly, putting his hand on the stone foundation wall. There was a kind of proprietorship in the gesture, as though he had entered into a partnership with her and was pleased with the outfit.
“Yes, it’s well enough, I guess,” she answered and sighed. “It’s a little lonely, though, for me. I’ve been used to being where there are plenty of people, and the rooms here seem so small and dark.”
She was almost ashamed of her confidential outburst as soon as it was uttered, but the boy looked around with comprehension.
“Houses are that way,” he admitted. “I don’t like ’em myself. I like outdoors best. We fellows go down to the creek about three miles up in the country and camp on a big rock, put up a tent, and cook and lie out at night. Gee! It’s great! You can’t tell which is sky and which is creek sometimes. The fireflies are so big they look like stars, and the stars twinkle around like they were fireflies. Gee, I’d like to live there. The only room I ever saw that was big enough for me was our gym. It isn’t all cut up. It’s big and high and wide. You can breathe and run in it. Gee! I’d like to live in a house like that up there in the picture!” He pointed to the Colosseum. “Wouldn’t that be grand? When it rained you could crawl under a wall till it was over, and other times you’d just have the sky.”
She looked down at his eager face and her own heart entered into his feelings. For a wild moment she felt the call of the open, the irresistible longing for something big and free that she had never before even known she wanted.
“Say, do you wantta know what I’d do if I owned a house like this?” the boy went on. “I’d cut out all those partitions and make a big room out of it, if it were me. And I’d make one side, or a front, or something, all glass. You could do it, easy. You’ve got an alley next to you. Come on out, I’ll show you.”
She followed him out the front door down to the alley and watched his eager face while he pointed to the blank brick wall.
“There’s one down on Diamond Street got a bay window with flowers in it and a bird in a gold cage. You ought to see it. You’ve got room here for any number of windows. I’d get a carpenter if I was you and knock a hole there.” He pointed to the place he visioned for a window. She found her heart leaping with the desire to follow his suggestion, knock out the old dark wall and let in the air and light. What a beautiful thing that would be to do! But what would Aunt Abigail and Uncle Jonathan think if they knew that she even allowed such a thought to be mentioned in her presence? They would look upon it as desecration of their property!
A boy was coming down the street and Ronald put up two grimy fingers to his lips and let forth a shrieking whistle. Martha jumped before she realized what it was. But the boy’s attention was no longer on bay windows and elderly female neighbors. Something was evidently attracting his attention down the street.
“I gotta beat it,” he said hastily. “If you want anything, let me know. I’ll see you! So long!” And he was gone like a flash.
Martha Spicer recovered her senses eventually and realized that she was standing alone in her alley, gazing after a vanishing boy. The neighbors might have cause to think her crazy if she stayed here. She gave one lingering, comprehensive, considering glance at the ugly wall that reared above her, and turned to go in.
Ernestine met her at the door as she went in, and she stooped to pat her lovingly. A sense of well-being and a new zest for life entered into her.
Yet as the night latch clicked, the shadows of Uncle Jonathan and Aunt Abigail met her accusing eyes. Would she tear to pieces a good, respectable house in which they had lived a lifetime? She, a poor relation? What was good enough for them ought to be good enough for
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