Free Christopher and Columbus by Elizabeth von Arnim
Authors: Elizabeth von Arnim
possible.
Anna-Rose stared at her a moment horror-struck. "Look here,
Anna-F.," she exclaimed, wrath in her voice, "I won't
have
you be sentimental--I won't
have
you be sentimental...."
And then she too began to cry.
Well, once having hopelessly disgraced and exposed themselves,
there was nothing for it but to take Mr. Twist into their uttermost
confidence. It was dreadful. It was awful. Before that strange man.
A person they hardly knew. Other strangers passing. Exposing their
feelings. Showing their innermost miserable places.
They writhed and struggled in their efforts to stop, to pretend
they weren't crying, that it was really nothing but just
tears,--odd ones left over from last time, which was years and
years ago,--"But
really
years and years ago," sobbed Anna-Rose,
anxiously explaining,--"the years one falls down on garden
paths in, and cuts one's knees, and one's mother--one's
mother--c-c-c-comforts one--"
"See here," said Mr. Twist, interrupting these
incoherences, and pulling out a beautiful clean pocket-handkerchief
which hadn't even been unfolded yet, "you've got to
tell me all about it right away."
And he shook out the handkerchief, and with the first-aid
promptness his Red Cross experience had taught him, started
competently wiping up their faces.
CHAPTER VII
There was that about Mr. Twist which, once one had begun them,
encouraged confidences; something kind about his eyes, something
not too determined about his chin. He bore no resemblance to those
pictures of efficient Americans in advertisements with which Europe
is familiar,--eagle-faced gentlemen with intimidatingly firm mouths
and chins, wiry creatures, physically and mentally perfect,
offering in capital letters to make you Just Like Them. Mr. Twist
was the reverse of eagle-faced. He was also the reverse of
good-looking; that is, he would have been very handsome indeed, as
Anna-Rose remarked several days later to Anna-Felicitas, when the
friendship had become a settled thing,--which indeed it did as soon
as Mr. Twist had finished wiping their eyes and noses that first
afternoon, it being impossible, they discovered, to have one's
eyes and noses wiped by somebody without being friends afterwards
(for such an activity, said Anna-Felicitas, belonged to the same
order of events as rescue from fire, lions, or drowning, after
which in books you married him; but this having only been wiping,
said Anna-Rose, the case was adequately met by friendship)--he
would have been very handsome indeed if he hadn't had a
face.
"But you have to
have
a face," said Anna-Felicitas, who didn't
think it much mattered what sort it was so long as you could eat
with it and see out of it.
"And as long as one is as kind as Mr. Twist," said
Anna-Rose; but secretly she thought that having been begun so
successfully at his feet, and carried upwards with such grace of
long limbs and happy proportions, he might as well have gone on
equally felicitously for the last little bit.
"I expect God got tired of him over that last bit,"
she mused, "and just put on any sort of head."
"Yes--that happened to be lying about," agreed
Anna-Felicitas. "In a hurry to get done with him."
"Anyway he's very kind," said Anna-Rose, a slight
touch of defiance in her voice.
"Oh,
very
kind," agreed Anna-Felicitas.
"And it doesn't matter about faces for being
kind," said Anna-Rose.
"Not in the least," agreed Anna-Felicitas.
"And if it hadn't been for the submarine we
shouldn't have got to know him. So you see," said
Anna-Rose,--and again produced her favourite remark about good
coming out of evil.
Those were the days in mid-Atlantic when England was lost in its
own peculiar mists, and the sunshine of America was stretching out
towards them. The sea was getting calmer and bluer every hour, and
submarines more and more unlikely. If a ship could be pleasant,
which Anna-Felicitas doubted, for she still found difficulty in
dressing and undressing without being sea-sick and was unpopular in
the cabin,
Anna-Rose stared at her a moment horror-struck. "Look here,
Anna-F.," she exclaimed, wrath in her voice, "I won't
have
you be sentimental--I won't
have
you be sentimental...."
And then she too began to cry.
Well, once having hopelessly disgraced and exposed themselves,
there was nothing for it but to take Mr. Twist into their uttermost
confidence. It was dreadful. It was awful. Before that strange man.
A person they hardly knew. Other strangers passing. Exposing their
feelings. Showing their innermost miserable places.
They writhed and struggled in their efforts to stop, to pretend
they weren't crying, that it was really nothing but just
tears,--odd ones left over from last time, which was years and
years ago,--"But
really
years and years ago," sobbed Anna-Rose,
anxiously explaining,--"the years one falls down on garden
paths in, and cuts one's knees, and one's mother--one's
mother--c-c-c-comforts one--"
"See here," said Mr. Twist, interrupting these
incoherences, and pulling out a beautiful clean pocket-handkerchief
which hadn't even been unfolded yet, "you've got to
tell me all about it right away."
And he shook out the handkerchief, and with the first-aid
promptness his Red Cross experience had taught him, started
competently wiping up their faces.
CHAPTER VII
There was that about Mr. Twist which, once one had begun them,
encouraged confidences; something kind about his eyes, something
not too determined about his chin. He bore no resemblance to those
pictures of efficient Americans in advertisements with which Europe
is familiar,--eagle-faced gentlemen with intimidatingly firm mouths
and chins, wiry creatures, physically and mentally perfect,
offering in capital letters to make you Just Like Them. Mr. Twist
was the reverse of eagle-faced. He was also the reverse of
good-looking; that is, he would have been very handsome indeed, as
Anna-Rose remarked several days later to Anna-Felicitas, when the
friendship had become a settled thing,--which indeed it did as soon
as Mr. Twist had finished wiping their eyes and noses that first
afternoon, it being impossible, they discovered, to have one's
eyes and noses wiped by somebody without being friends afterwards
(for such an activity, said Anna-Felicitas, belonged to the same
order of events as rescue from fire, lions, or drowning, after
which in books you married him; but this having only been wiping,
said Anna-Rose, the case was adequately met by friendship)--he
would have been very handsome indeed if he hadn't had a
face.
"But you have to
have
a face," said Anna-Felicitas, who didn't
think it much mattered what sort it was so long as you could eat
with it and see out of it.
"And as long as one is as kind as Mr. Twist," said
Anna-Rose; but secretly she thought that having been begun so
successfully at his feet, and carried upwards with such grace of
long limbs and happy proportions, he might as well have gone on
equally felicitously for the last little bit.
"I expect God got tired of him over that last bit,"
she mused, "and just put on any sort of head."
"Yes--that happened to be lying about," agreed
Anna-Felicitas. "In a hurry to get done with him."
"Anyway he's very kind," said Anna-Rose, a slight
touch of defiance in her voice.
"Oh,
very
kind," agreed Anna-Felicitas.
"And it doesn't matter about faces for being
kind," said Anna-Rose.
"Not in the least," agreed Anna-Felicitas.
"And if it hadn't been for the submarine we
shouldn't have got to know him. So you see," said
Anna-Rose,--and again produced her favourite remark about good
coming out of evil.
Those were the days in mid-Atlantic when England was lost in its
own peculiar mists, and the sunshine of America was stretching out
towards them. The sea was getting calmer and bluer every hour, and
submarines more and more unlikely. If a ship could be pleasant,
which Anna-Felicitas doubted, for she still found difficulty in
dressing and undressing without being sea-sick and was unpopular in
the cabin,