Alice Adams by Booth Tarkington
page 48 of 368 (13%)
page 48 of 368 (13%)
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grass, repulsively besooted to the colour of coal-smoke all
winter, had lately come to life again and now sparkled with green, in the midst of which a tiny shot of blue suddenly fixed her absent eyes. They remained upon it for several moments, becoming less absent. It was a violet. Alice ran upstairs, put on her hat, went outdoors and began to search out the violets. She found twenty-two, a bright omen--since the number was that of her years--but not enough violets. There were no more; she had ransacked every foot of the yard. She looked dubiously at the little bunch in her hand, glanced at the lawn next door, which offered no favourable prospect; then went thoughtfully into the house, left her twenty-two violets in a bowl of water, and came quickly out again, her brow marked with a frown of decision. She went to a trolley-line and took a car to the outskirts of the city where a new park had been opened. Here she resumed her search, but it was not an easily rewarded one, and for an hour after her arrival she found no violets. She walked conscientiously over the whole stretch of meadow, her eyes roving discontentedly; there was never a blue dot in the groomed expanse; but at last, as she came near the borders of an old grove of trees, left untouched by the municipal landscapers, the little flowers appeared, and she began to gather them. She picked them carefully, loosening the earth round each tiny plant, so as to bring the roots up with it, that it might live the |
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