Pearl and Periwinkle, by Anna
Graetz
The Project Gutenberg EBook of Pearl and Periwinkle, by Anna Graetz
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Pearl and Periwinkle
Author: Anna Graetz
Release Date: January 8, 2007 [EBook #20314]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PEARL
AND PERIWINKLE ***
Produced by Emmy, Fox in the Stars, Suzanne Lybarger and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
Pearl and Periwinkle
BY
ANNA GRAETZ
[Illustration: Emblem]
L. B. C. Col. O. 1917
CONTENTS
Chapter I
Page
Myra's Dreadful Children 5
Chapter II
Pigs, Cabbages and--Mr. Robert Grey 11
Chapter III
At the Shrine of Joe Smith 19
Chapter IV
The Clan 29
Chapter V
The Wall that Parted 37
Chapter VI
Joe Smith's Choice 41
Chapter VII
Periwinkle Breaks the Ice 49
Chapter VIII
"Even Unto Bethlehem" 55
CHAPTER I
MYRA'S DREADFUL CHILDREN
Miss Hetty Maise, having spent the night in fitful spells of slumber, at
last awakened by the beams of sunlight, sat up in bed with a start, quite
unrefreshed and possessed of an uncomfortable feeling that something
unpleasant was about to happen. A venturesome sunbeam, casting its
light upon a picture on the heavy walnut dresser, seemed to recall the
cause of her sleepless night and present uneasy state of mind. Drawing
her lips tightly together she frowned severely at the inquisitive intruder.
"Those children," she thought, "Myra's dreadful children! If the
minister himself hadn't insisted that it was my plain duty to take them I
shouldn't have done it. It seems almost a sin to take in two children
who have been circus performers."
Miss Hetty was up by this time, for she hated to be idle. In fact the
minister's son had once remarked that she was accustomed to stir her
cake batter while she was reading her Bible; but then the minister's son
was inclined to be irreverent at times.
But even he would have felt sorry for Miss Hetty this morning. To
adopt two children when you know nothing whatever about their care
was by no means a pleasant prospect. Besides, these children were the
son and daughter of the outcast of the family, an only sister
half-forgotten though only two months deceased. The thing itself was
pathetic, yet it seemed an imposition: above all to adopt two children
who had traveled all their young lives with a circus was at least to Miss
Hetty's mind almost scandalous.
Often during the morning she absently folded her hand and in
unaccustomed idleness gazed, as if dazed, down the quiet village street
as if expecting help from that source. Once, having aroused herself, she
had gone to an old trunk, her deceased mother's, and drew out two
faded pictures tied with an old ribbon and folded over a lock of yellow
hair. The first picture, the face of a girl that smiled up at her so sweetly
and trustingly, caused unbidden tears to well up in her eyes, just as it
had always affected her mother. The second picture was regarded with
more interest though with less affection. Here was the same loved face,
but beside it the merry, dark face of the actor husband for whom she
had left her home, and in her arms their first baby branded--as Miss
Hetty thought--with the heathenish name of Periwinkle. A letter had
accompanied this photograph, but it had never been answered. Several
years later another letter had been received, telling of the death of her
husband and of the illness of Periwinkle's two year old sister, Pearl.
Though Myra had died but two months before and if perhaps then her
younger sister had felt any pang of pity for the orphaned children, it did
not enter her thoughts this morning. She plumped up the pillows on the
prim horsehair sofa, painfully recalling the pillow fight she had once
seen between her cousin's children. Children were a nuisance, and these
two--Myra's dreadful boy and girl--were bound to be more than that.
Her sense of indignation reaching a higher pitch every minute, she
spitefully slammed the front door and left the house just as the clock
struck eleven. Her heels clicked on the sidewalk sharply in full
sympathy with her state of mind as she walked down the street of the
village. And then, as she might have expected, she met the one person
whom she least of all desired to meet. An icy stare on her part, a stiff
formal bow from the man passing--that was all, but she knew that in
that brief interval
Continue reading on your phone by scaning this QR Code
Tip: The current page has been bookmarked automatically. If you wish to continue reading later, just open the
Dertz Homepage, and click on the 'continue reading' link at the bottom of the page.