Tramping on Life - An Autobiographical Narrative by Harry Kemp
page 30 of 737 (04%)
page 30 of 737 (04%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
side, "I say let's go swimming?"
"You and me together?" I demurred. "In course!" "And you a girl?" "Can't I swim jest as well as you can?" "Phoebe, git up, you lazy-bones," called Aunt Rachel, from the bottom of the stairs. "All right, Ma!" "Johnnie, you git up, too!" "Coming down right now, Aunt Rachel!" "Hurry up, or your breakfast'll git cold ... the idea of you children laying in bed like this ... what on earth are you doing up there, talking and talking? I kin hear you buzzing away clear down here!" I had been rapt in telling Phoebe how, when I grew to be a man, I was going to become a great adventurer, traveller, explorer. Phoebe sat up on the edge of the bed, lazily stretching for a moment, as a pretty bird stretches its leg along its wing. Then, her slim, nubile body outlined sharply in the brilliant day, she stood up, slipped off her flannel nightgown with a natural, unaffected movement, and stood |
|