by Madeline Yale Wynne
Originally published in Harper’s in 1895. Read it here!
“When Mamma was about ten years old they sent her to cousins in Brooklyn, who had children of their own, and knew more about bringing them up. She staid there till she was married: she didn’t go to Vermont in all that time, and of course hadn’t seen her sisters, for they never would leave home for a day. They couldn’t even be induced to go to Brooklyn to her wedding so she and father took their wedding trip up there.”
“And that’s why we are going up there on our own?”
“Don’t, Roger; you have no idea how loud you speak.”
“You never say so except when I am going to say that one little word.”
“Well, don’t say it, then or say it very, very quietly.”
“Well, what was the queer thing?”
“When they got to the house, mother wanted to take father right off into the little room; she had been telling him about it, just as I am going to tell you and she had said that of all the rooms that one was the only one that seemed pleasant to her. She described the furniture and the books and paper and everything, and said it was on the north side, between the front and back room. Well, when they went to look for it, there was no little room there; there was only a shallow china-closet. She asked her sisters when the house had been altered and a closet made of the room that used to be there. They both said the house was exactly as it had been built–that they had never made any changes, except to tear down the old wood-shed and build a smaller one.