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Alonzo Fitz and Other Stories by Mark Twain

blast, and the cape of her waterproof blowing straight rearward over her

head. Alonzo shuddered, and said with a sigh, “Better the slop, and the

sultry rain, and even the insolent flowers, than this!”

He turned from the window, moved a step, and stopped in a listening

attitude. The faint, sweet notes of a familiar song caught his ear. He

remained there, with his head unconsciously bent forward, drinking in the

melody, stirring neither hand nor foot, hardly breathing. There was a

blemish in the execution of the song, but to Alonzo it seemed an added

charm instead of a defect. This blemish consisted of a marked flatting

of the third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh notes of the refrain or

chorus of the piece. When the music ended, Alonzo drew a deep breath,

and said, “Ah, I never have heard ‘In the Sweet By-and-by’ sung like that

before!”

He stepped quickly to the desk, listened a moment, and said in a guarded,

confidential voice, “Aunty, who is this divine singer?”

“She is the company I was expecting. Stays with me a month or two.

I will introduce you. Miss–”

“For goodness’ sake, wait a moment, Aunt Susan! You never stop to think

what you are about!”

He flew to his bedchamber, and returned in a moment perceptibly changed

in his outward appearance, and remarking, snappishly:

“Hang it, she would have introduced me to this angel in that sky-blue

dressing-gown with red-hot lapels! Women never think, when they get

a-going.”

He hastened and stood by the desk, and said eagerly, “Now, Aunty, I am

ready,” and fell to smiling and bowing with all the persuasiveness and

elegance that were in him.

“Very well. Miss Rosannah Ethelton, let me introduce to you my favorite

nephew, Mr. Alonzo Fitz Clarence. There! You are both good people, and

I like you; so I am going to trust you together while I attend to a few

household affairs. Sit down, Rosannah; sit down, Alonzo. Good-by; I

sha’n’t be gone long.”

Alonzo had been bowing and smiling all the while, and motioning imaginary

young ladies to sit down in imaginary chairs, but now he took a seat

himself, mentally saying, “Oh, this is luck! Let the winds blow now, and

the snow drive, and the heavens frown! Little I care!”

While these young people chat themselves into an acquaintanceship, let us

take the liberty of inspecting the sweeter and fairer of the two. She

sat alone, at her graceful ease, in a richly furnished apartment which

was manifestly the private parlor of a refined and sensible lady,

if signs and symbols may go for anything. For instance, by a low,

comfortable chair stood a dainty, top-heavy workstand, whose summit was a

fancifully embroidered shallow basket, with varicolored crewels, and

other strings and odds, and ends protruding from under the gaping lid and

hanging down in negligent profusion. On the floor lay bright shreds of

Turkey red, Prussian blue, and kindred fabrics, bits of ribbon, a spool

or two, a pair of scissors, and a roll or so of tinted silken stuffs.

On a luxurious sofa, upholstered with some sort of soft Indian goods

wrought in black and gold threads interwebbed with other threads not so

pronounced in color, lay a great square of coarse white stuff, upon whose

surface a rich bouquet of flowers was growing, under the deft cultivation

of the crochet-needle. The household cat was asleep on this work of art.

In a bay-window stood an easel with an unfinished picture on it, and a

palette and brushes on a chair beside it. There were books everywhere:

Robertson’s Sermons, Tennyson, Moody and Sankey, Hawthorne, Rab and His

Friends, cook-books, prayer-books, pattern-books–and books about all

kinds of odious and exasperating pottery, of course. There was a piano,

with a deck-load of music, and more in a tender. There was a great

plenty of pictures on the walls, on the shelves of the mantelpiece, and

around generally; where coigns of vantage offered were statuettes, and

quaint and pretty gimcracks, and rare and costly specimens of peculiarly

devilish china. The bay-window gave upon a garden that was ablaze with

foreign and domestic flowers and flowering shrubs.

But the sweet young girl was the daintiest thing these premises, within

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Categories: Twain, Mark
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