MY INDIAN WIFE free download pdf

The house in the hollow was "a mile from anywhere"--so Maywood

People said. It was situated in a grassy little dale, looking as

If it had never been built like other houses but had grown up there

Like a big, brown mushroom. It was reached by a long, green lane

And almost hidden from view by an encircling growth of young

Birches. No other house could be seen from it although the village

Was just over the hill. Ellen Greene said it was the lonesomest

Place in the world and vowed that she wouldn't stay there a day if

It wasn't that she pitied the child.

Emily didn't know she was being pitied and didn't know what

Lonesomeness meant. She had plenty of company. There was Father--

And Mike--and Saucy Sal. The Wind Woman was always around; and

There were the trees--Adam-and-Eve, and the Rooster Pine, and all

The friendly lady-birches.

And there was "the flash, " too. She never knew when it might come, And the possibility of it kept her a-thrill and expectant.

Emily had slipped away in the chilly twilight for a walk. She

Remembered that walk very vividly all her life--perhaps because of

A certain eerie beauty that was in it--perhaps because "the flash"

Came for the first time in weeks--more likely because of what

Happened after she came back from it.

It had been a dull, cold day in early May, threatening to rain but

Never raining. Father had lain on the sitting-room lounge all day.

He had coughed a good deal and he had not talked much to Emily, Which was a very unusual thing for him. Most of the time he lay

With his hands clasped under his head and his large, sunken, dark-

Blue eyes fixed dreamily and unseeingly on the cloudy sky that was

Visible between the boughs of the two big spruces in the front

Yard--Adam-and-Eve, they always called those spruces, because of a

Whimsical resemblance Emily had traced between their position, with

Reference to a small apple-tree between them, and that of Adam and

Eve and the Tree of Knowledge in an old-fashioned picture in one of

Ellen Greene's books. The Tree of Knowledge looked exactly like

The squat little apple-tree, and Adam and Eve stood up on either

Side as stiffly and rigidly as did the spruces.

Emily wondered what Father was thinking of, but she never bothered

Him with questions when his cough was bad. She only wished she had

Somebody to talk to. Ellen Greene wouldn't talk that day either.

She did nothing but grunt, and grunts meant that Ellen was

Disturbed about something. She had grunted last night after the

Doctor had whispered to her in the kitchen, and she had grunted

When she gave Emily a bedtime snack of bread and molasses. Emily

Did not like bread and molasses, but she ate it because she did not

Want to hurt Ellen's feelings. It was not often that Ellen allowed

Her anything to eat before going to bed, and when she did it meant

That for some reason or other she wanted to confer a special

Favour.

Emily expected the grunting attack would wear off over night, as it

Generally did; but it had not, so no company was to be found in

Ellen. Not that there was a great deal to be found at any time.

Douglas Starr had once, in a fit of exasperation, told Emily that

"Ellen Greene was a fat, lazy old thing of no importance, " and

Emily, whenever she looked at Ellen after that, thought the

Description fitted her to a hair. So Emily had curled herself up

In the ragged, comfortable old wing-chair and read The Pilgrim's

Progress all the afternoon. Emily loved The Pilgrim's Progress.

Many a time had she walked the straight and narrow path with

Christian and Christiana--although she never liked Christiana's

Adventures half as well as Christian's. For one thing, there was

Always such a crowd with Christiana. She had not half the

Fascination of that solitary, intrepid figure who faced all alone

The shadows of the Dark Valley and the encounter with Apollyon.

Darkness and hobgoblins were nothing when you had plenty of

Company. But to be ALONE--ah, Emily shivered with the delicious

Horror of it!

When Ellen announced that supper was ready Douglas Starr told Emily

To go out to it.

"I don't want anything to-night. I'll just lie here and rest. And

When you come in again we'll have a real talk, Elfkin."

He smiled up at her his old, beautiful smile, with the love behind

It, that Emily always found so sweet. She ate her supper quite

Happily--though it wasn't a good supper. The bread was soggy and

Her egg was underdone, but for a wonder she was allowed to have

Both Saucy Sal and Mike sitting, one on each side of her, and Ellen

Only grunted when Emily fed them wee bits of bread and butter.

Mike had such a cute way of sitting up on his haunches and catching

The bits in his paws, and Saucy Sal had HER trick of touching

Emily's ankle with an almost human touch when her turn was too long

In coming. Emily loved them both, but Mike was her favourite. He

Was a handsome, dark-grey cat with huge owl-like eyes, and he was

So soft and fat and fluffy. Sal was always thin; no amount of

Feeding put any flesh on her bones. Emily liked her, but never

Cared to cuddle or stroke her because of her thinness. Yet there

Was a sort of weird beauty about her that appealed to Emily. She

Was grey-and-white--very white and very sleek, with a long, pointed

Face, very long ears and very green eyes. She was a redoubtable

Fighter, and strange cats were vanquished in one round. The

Fearless little spitfire would even attack dogs and rout them

Utterly.

Emily loved her pussies. She had brought them up herself, as she

Proudly said. They had been given to her when they were kittens by

Her Sunday-school teacher.

"A LIVING present is so nice, " she told Ellen, "because it keeps on

Getting nicer all the time."

But she worried considerably because Saucy Sal didn't have kittens.

"I don't know why she doesn't, " she complained to Ellen Greene.

"Most cats seem to have more kittens than they know what to do

With."

After supper Emily went in and found that her father had fallen

Asleep. She was very glad of this; she knew he had not slept much

For two nights; but she was a little disappointed that they were

Not going to have that "real talk." "Real" talks with Father were

Always such delightful things. But next best would be a walk--a

Lovely all-by-your-lonesome walk through the grey evening of the

Young spring. It was so long since she had had a walk.

"You put on your hood and mind you scoot back if it starts to

Rain, " warned Ellen. "YOU can't monkey with colds the way some

Kids can."

"Why can't I?" Emily asked rather indignantly. Why must SHE be

Debarred from "monkeying with colds" if other children could? It

Wasn't fair.