Jane Field

Jane Field

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Jane Field, by Mary E. Wilkins
Freeman This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and
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Title: Jane Field A Novel
Author: Mary E. Wilkins Freeman
Release Date: February 18, 2006 [EBook #17790]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JANE
FIELD ***

Produced by Jeff Kaylin and Andrew Sly

Jane Field
A Novel
By
Mary E. Wilkins

Author of "A Humble Romance, and other stories" "A New England
Nun, and other stories" "Young Lucretia, and other stories"
Illustrated
New York
Harper & Brothers Publishers
Chapter I
Amanda Pratt's cottage-house was raised upon two banks above the
road-level. Here and there the banks showed irregular patches of
yellow-green, where a little milky-stemmed plant grew. It had come up
every spring since Amanda could remember.
There was a great pink-lined shell on each side of the front door-step,
and the path down over the banks to the road was bordered with smaller
shells. The house was white, and the front door was dark green, with an
old-fashioned knocker in the centre.
There were four front windows, and the roof sloped down to them; two
were in Amanda's parlor, and two were in Mrs. Field's. She rented half
of her house to Mrs. Jane Field.
There was a head at each of Amanda's front windows. One was hers,
the other was Mrs. Babcock's. Amanda's old blond face, with its folds
of yellow-gray hair over the ears and sections of the softly-wrinkled,
pinky cheeks, was bent over some needle-work. So was Mrs. Babcock's,
darkly dim with age, as if the hearth-fires of her life had always
smoked, with a loose flabbiness about the jaw-bones, which seemed to
make more evident the firm structure underneath.
Amanda was sewing a braided rug; her little veiny hands jerked the
stout thread through with a nervous energy that was out of accord with
her calm expression and the droop of her long slender body.
"It's pretty hard sewin' braided mats, ain't it?" said Mrs. Babcock.

"I don't care how hard 'tis if I can get 'em sewed strong," replied
Amanda, and her voice was unexpectedly quick and decided. "I never
had any feelin' that anything was hard, if I could only do it."
"Well, you ain't had so much hard work to do as some folks. Settin' in a
rockin'-chair sewin' braided mats ain't like doin' the housework for a
whole family. If you'd had the cookin' to do for four men-folks, the way
I have, you'd felt it was pretty hard work, even if you did make out to
fill 'em up." Mrs. Babcock smiled, and showed that she did not forget
she was company, but her tone was quite fierce.
"Mebbe I should," returned Amanda, stiffly.
There was a silence.
"Let me see, how many mats does that make?" Mrs. Babcock asked,
finally, in an amiable voice.
"Like this one?"
"Yes."
"This makes the ninth."
Mrs. Babcock scrutinized the floor. It was almost covered with braided
rugs, and they were all alike.
"I declare I don't see where you'll put another in here," said she.
"I guess I can lay 'em a little thicker over there by the what-not."
"Well, mebbe you can; but I declare I shouldn't scarcely think you
needed another. I shouldn't think your carpet would wear out till the
day of judgment. What made you have them mats all jest alike?"
"I like 'em better so," replied Amanda, with dignity.
"Well, of course, if you do there ain't nothin' to say; it's your carpet an'
your mats," returned Mrs. Babcock, with grim apology.

There were two curious features about Amanda Pratt's parlor: one was
a gentle monotony of details; the other, a certain savor of the sea. It was
like holding a shell to one's ear to enter Amanda's parlor. There was a
faint suggestion of far-away sandy beaches, the breaking of waves, and
the rush of salt winds. In the centre of the mantel-shelf stood a stuffed
sea-gull; on either side shells were banked. The fire-place was flanked
by great branches of coral, and on the top of the air-tight stove there
stood always in summer-time, when there was no fire, a superb nautilus
shell, like a little pearl vessel. The corner what-not, too, had its shelves
heaped with shells and coral and choice bits of rainbow lava from
volcanic islands. Between the windows, instead of the conventional
mahogany cardtable, stood one of Indian lacquer, and on it was a little
inlaid cabinet that was brought from over seas. The whole room