Twenty seconds later a figure in Santa Claus red came clashing into the room. Hartford, half into his blue safety-suit, came to a clumsy attention. The newcomer, his helmet clammed shut all ready for contamination, bellowed, "Get with it, Mister!"
THE AUTHOR’S PREFACE
“July 8.  Came to Red Banks.
So Thrid younglings were trained not to think; not to have any opinion about anything; only to repeat what nobody questioned; only to do what they were told by authority. It occurred to Jorgenson that on a planet with such a population, a skeptic could make a great deal of confusion.
Most folks at the North felt that the time had come to cry “halt.” All through the states this theme was so much talked a-bout that two sides were made, one of which was formed of those who were will-ing that sla-ver-y should go on and spread, while the oth-er was
blossoms in the warm, still air that seemed to hold no sound. He waited, anxious, angry, on the steps, listening intently for the roll of wheels and the beat of a pony's hoofs on the hard road. Once or twice he thought he heard the sounds he expected, but they died away without coming nearer, if they had really been audible at all; and then, as he waited and listened, there rose sharply, cruelly, in his mind the memory of another night in India, many years ago, when, from another bungalow, in another station, he had heard the rattle of a dog-cart driving swiftly into the adjoining compound. He became conscious of the scent of violets. In desperate resentment he moved forward to try and free himself from this spell of hideous recollection, and as he moved his foot struck against a flower-pot. He realised then that it was a pot of violets, and viciously he kicked it over the plinth of the veranda, and heard it smash to pieces as it fell.
At last the ball was over. Theodora and her party were rolling homeward. A certain constraint existed among them, and Sir John Blood's name was not once mentioned. When they reached home all the ladies scurried into a cozy morning room, where a sleepy footman gave them tea. A little fire crackled on the hearth, and what will not a wood fire do toward unlocking the secret confidences of the female breast? Therefore, as Mrs. Wodehouse saw Theodora's tiny satin slippered feet seek hers in friendly juxtaposition on the fender, a sudden determination seized her to make a clean breast of it all.
he sang again. “I’ll tell you, suh,” he laughed, “I can’t see what fatnin’ horgs hes got to do with marryin’, but dat’s what de aixpectashuns ob dis horg-pen remin’s me ob ennyway—’bout de time I was kotin’ Unk Peter’s widder, way back in fifty-fo’,” he added reflectively, “an’ de hard time I had gettin’ enny konsolashun from dat ar ’oman. I tell you, suh, it ain’t easy to git enny konsolashun from er widder—not nigh es easy es it am frum er gal. Huh!” he ejaculated, derisively. “Folks say it am an’ dat all widders jes’ watchin’ out fur er chance to git marrid ergin, but you jes’ try onct to git er widder to say ‘yas’—she’ll jes’ play erroun’ an’ play erroun’ de hook, and fus’ thing you know she’s off, an’ dar you looks an lo!—dun swallered de bait yo’se’f,” he said.
Copyright © 2020