The Light in the Clearing by Irving Bacheller
page 14 of 354 (03%)
page 14 of 354 (03%)
|
He went over and stepped on the lower shelf and then the savage thing jumped right on top of him, very supple, and threw him on to the floor and held him there until his mother came. I dreamed that night that a long-legged what-not, with a wax wreath in its hands, chased me around the house and caught and bit me on the neck. I called for help and uncle came and found me on the floor and put me back in bed again. For a long time I thought that the way a man punished a boy was by thumping his bed. I knew that women had a different and less satisfactory method, for I remembered that my mother had spanked me and Aunt Deel had a way of giving my hands and head a kind of watermelon thump with the middle finger of her right hand and with a curious look in her eyes. Uncle Peabody used to call it a "snaptious look." Almost always he whacked the bed with his slipper. There were exceptions, however, and, by and by, I came to know in each case the destination of the slipper for if I had done anything which really afflicted my conscience that strip of leather seemed to know the truth, and found its way to my person. My Uncle Peabody was a man of a thousand. I often saw him laughing and talking to himself and strange fancies came into my head about it. "Who be you talkin' to?" I asked. "Who be I talkin' to, Bub? Why I'm talkin' to my friends." "Friends?" I said. |
|