 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Read and recorded by Deborah Lynn in Northern Michigan, February 2007. Araminta and the Automobile by Charles Battal Loomis Some persons spend their surplus on works of art. Some spend it on Italian gardens and pergolas. There are those who sink it in golf, and I have heard of those who expend it on charity. None of these forms of getting away with money appeal to Araminta and myself. As soon as it was ascertained that the automobile was practicable and would not cost the king's ransom, I determined to devote my savings to the purchase of one. Araminta and I lived in a suburban town. And she, because she loves nature, and I because I love Araminta. We have been married for five years. I am a bank clerk in New York, and morning and night I go through the monotony of railway travel. And for one who is forbidden to use his eyes on the train and who does not play cards, it is monotony. For in the morning my friends are either playing cards or else reading their papers. And one does not like to urge the claims of conversation on one who is deep in politics or the next play of his antagonist. So my getting to business and coming back are in the nature of purgatory. I therefore hailed the automobile as a heaven sent means of swift motion with an agreeable companion and with no danger of encountering either newspapers or cards. I have seen neither reading nor card playing going on in any automobile. The community in which I live is not progressive. And when I said that I expected to buy an automobile as soon as my ship came in, I was frowned upon by my neighbors. Several of them have horses, and all, or nearly all, have feet. The horsemen were not more opposed to my proposed ownership than the footmen. I should say pedestrians. They all thought automobiles dangerous and a menace to public peace. But of course I pooh-poohed their fears and being a person of a good deal of stability of purpose, I went on saving my money. And in course of time I bought an automobile of the electric sort. Era meant to as plucky, and I am perfectly fearless. When the automobile was brought home and housed in the little barn that is on our property, the man who had backed it in told me that he had orders to stay and show me how it worked. But I laughed at him. Good-naturedly yet firmly I said, Young man, experience teaches more in half an hour than books or precepts do in a year. A would-be newspaper man does not go to a school of journalism if he is wise. He gets a position on a newspaper and learns for himself and through his mistakes. I know that one of these levers is to steer by, that another lets loose the power, and that there is a footbreak. I also know that the machine is charged, and I need to know no more. Good-day. Thus did I speak to the young man, and he saw that I was a person of force and discretion, and he withdrew to the train, and I never saw him again. Araminta had been to Passaic shopping, but she came back while I was out in the barn looking at my new purchase, and she joined me there. I looked at her lovingly, and she returned to the look. Our joint ambition was realized. We were the owners of an automobile, and we were going out that afternoon. Why is it that cheap barns are so flimsily built? I know that our barn is cheap because the rent for house and barn is less than what many a clerk's city-pent pays for a cramped flat, but again I ask why are they flimsily built? I have no complaint to make. If my barn had been built of good-stout oak, I might today be in a hospital. It happened this way. Araminta said, Let me get in, and we will just take a little ride to see how it goes. And I, out of my love for her, said, Wait, just a few minutes, dearest, until I get the hang of the thing. Let's see how much go she has, and just how she works. Araminta has learned to obey my slightest word, knowing that love is at the bottom of all my commands, and she stepped to one side while I entered the gaily-painted vehicle and tried to move out of the barn. I moved out, but I backed. Oh, blessed, cheaply-built barn. My way was not restricted to any appreciable extent. I shot gaily through the barn into the henyard, and the sound of the ripping clapboards frightened the silly hens who were enjoying a dust bath, and they fled in more directions than there were fowls. I had not intended entering the henyard, and I did not wish to stay there, so I kept on out, the wire netting not being what an automobile would call an obstruction. I never lose my head, and when I heard Araminta screaming in the barn, I called out cheerily to her, I'll be back in a minute, dear, but I'm coming another way. And I did come another way. I came all sorts of ways. I really don't know what got into the machine, but she now turned to the left and made for the road, and then she ran along on her two left wheels for a moment, and then seemed about to turn a somersault, but changed her mind, and still veering to the left, kept on up the road, passing my house at a furious speed, and making for the open country. With as much calmness as I could summon, I steered her, but I think I steered her a little too much, for she turned toward my house. I reached one end of the front piazza at the same time that Araminta reached the other end of it. I had the right of way, and she deferred to me just in time. I removed the vestibule storm door. It was late in March, and I did not think we should have any more use for it that season, and we didn't. I had ordered a strongly built machine, and I was now glad of it, because a light and weak affair that was merely meant to run along on a level and unobstructed road would not have stood the assault on my piazza. Why my piazza did not stand it. It caved in and made work for an already overworked local carpenter who was behindhand with his orders. After I had passed through the vestibule, I applied the brake, and it worked. The path is not a cinder one, as I think them untidy, so I was not more than muddied. I was up in an instant, and looked at the still enthusiastic machine with admiration. Have you got the hang of it? said Araminta. Now, that's one thing I like about Araminta. She does not waste words over non-essentials. The point was not that I had damaged the piazza. I needed a new one anyway. One thing was that I was trying to get the hang of the machine, and she recognized that fact instantly. I told her that I thought I had, and that if I had pushed the lever in the right way at first I should have come out of the barn in a more conventional way. She again asked me to let her ride, and as I now felt that I could better cope with the curves of the machine, I allowed her to get in. Don't lose your head, said I. I hope I shan't, said she dryly. Well, if you have occasion to leave me, drop over the back. Never jump ahead. That is a fundamental rule in runaways of all kinds. Then we started, and I ran the motor along for upward of half a mile after I had reached the highway, which I did by a shortcut through a field at the side of our house. There is only a slight rail fence surrounding it, and my machine made little of that. It really seemed to delight in what some people would have called danger. Are you glad that I saved up for this? I am mad with joy, said the dear thing. Her face flushed with excitement mixed with expectancy. Nor were her expectations to be disappointed. We still had a good deal to do before we should have ended our first ride. So far I had damaged property to a certain extent, but I had no one but myself to reckon with, and I was providing work for people. I always have claimed that he who makes work for two men where there was only work for one before is a public benefactor, and that day I was the friend of carpenters and other mechanics. Along the highway we flew, our hearts beating high, but never in our mouths, and at last we saw a team approaching us. By a team I mean a horse and buggy. I was raised in Connecticut where a team is anything you choose to call one. The teamster saw us. Well, perhaps I should not call him a teamster, although he was one logically. He was our doctor, and as I say, he saw us. Now I think it would have been friendly in him seeing that I was more or less of a novice at the Art of Automobiling to have turned to the left when he saw that I was inadvertently turning to the left. But the practice of forty years added to a certain native obstinacy made him turn to the right, and he met me at the same time that I met him. The horse was not hurt, for which I am truly glad, and the doctor joined us and continued with us for a season, but his buggy was demolished. Of course I am always prepared to pay for my pleasure, and though it was not strictly speaking my pleasure to deprive my physician of his turnout, yet if he had turned out it wouldn't have happened, and as I say I was prepared to get him a new vehicle. But he was very unreasonable, so much so that, as he was crowding us, for the seat was not built for more than two, and he is stout. I at last told him that I intended to turn around and carry him home as we were out for pleasure, and he was giving us pain. I will confess that the events of the last few minutes had rattled me somewhat, and I did not feel like turning just then as the road was narrow. I knew that the road turned of its own accord a half-mile further on, and so I determined to wait. I want to get out, said the doctor tartly, and just as he said so, Ereminta stepped on the brake accidentally. The doctor got out, in front. With great presence of mind I reversed, and so we did not run over him, but he was furious and sulfurous, and that is why I have changed to homeopathy. He was the only allopathic doctor in Brantford. I suppose that if I had stopped and apologized he would have made up with me, and I would not have got angry with him, but I couldn't stop. The machine was now going as she had done when I left the barn, and we were backing into town. Through it all I did not lose my coolness. I said, Ereminta, look out behind, which is ahead of us, and if you have occasion to jump now, do it in front, which is behind. And Ereminta understood me. She sat sideways so that she could see what was going on, but that might have been seen from any point of view, for we were the only things going on, or backing. Pretty soon we passed the wreck of the buggy, and then we saw the horse grazing on dead grass by the roadside, and at last we came on a few of our townfolk who had seen us start, and were now come out to welcome us home. But I did not go home just then. I should have done so if the machine had minded me and turned in at our driveway. But it did not. Across the way from us there is a fine lawn leading up to a beautiful greenhouse full of rare orchids and other plants. It is the pride of my very good neighbor, Jacob Rawlinson. The machine, as if moved by malice propensay, turned just as we came to the lawn and began to back at railroad speed. I told Ereminta that if she was tired of riding, now was the best time to stop, that she ought not to overdo it, and that I was going to get out myself as soon as I had seen her off. I saw her off. Then, after one ineffectual jab at the break, I left the machine hurriedly, and as I sat down on the spousy lawn, I heard a tremendous, but not unmusical sound of falling glass. I tell Ereminta that it isn't the running of an automobile that is expensive. It is the stopping of it. End of Ereminta and the automobile. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading by Larry Long, L-C-L-O-N-G-J-R at hotmail.com. Crossroads of Destiny by H. Beam Piper. I still have the dollar bill. It's in my box at the bank, and I think that's where it will stay. I simply won't destroy it, but I can think of nobody to whom I'd be willing to show it. Certainly nobody at the college, my history department colleagues, least of all, merely to tell the story would brand me irredeemably as a crackpot. But crackpots are tolerated, even on college faculties. It's only when they begin producing physical evidence that they get themselves actively resented. I went into the club car for a nightcap before going back to my compartment to turn in. There were five men there, sitting together. One was an army officer and one was Colonel. Next to him was a man of about my own age, with sandy hair and a bony, Scottish-looking face, who sat staring silently into a highball, which he held in both hands. Across the aisle, an elderly man who could have been a lawyer or a banker was smoking a cigar over a glass of port, and beside him sat a plump and slightly too well-groomed individual who had a tall, colorless drink, probably gin and tonic. The fifth man, separated from him by a vacant chair, seemed to be dividing his attention into a book on his lap and the conversation in which he was taking no part. I sat beside the sandy-haired man as I did so and rang for the waiter the Colonel was saying, No, that wouldn't. I can think of a better one. Suppose you have Columbus get his ships from Henry VII of England and sail under the English flag instead of the Spanish flag. You know, he did try to get English backing before he went to Spain, but King Henry turned him down. That could be changed. I pricked up my ears. From 1492 to the Revolution is my special field of American history and I knew at once the enormous difference it would have made. It was a moment later that I realized how oddly the Colonel had expressed the idea and by that time the plump man was speaking. Yes, that would work, he agreed. Those kings made decisions most of the time on whether or not they had a hangover or what some court favorite thought. He got out a notebook and a pen and scribbled briefly. I'll hand that to the planning staff when I get to New York. That's Henry VII, not Henry VIII, right? We'll fix it so that Columbus will catch him when he's in a good humor. That was too much. I turned to the man beside me. What goes on, I asked. Has someone invented a time machine? He looked up from the drink he was contemplating and gave me a grin. Sounds like it doesn't it. Why no, our friend here is getting up a television program. Tell the gentleman about it, he urged the plump man across the aisle. The waiter arrived at that moment. The plump man, who seemed to need a little urging, waited until he had ordered a drink and then began telling me what a positively sensational idea it was. We're calling it Crossroads of Destiny. It'll be a series, one half hour shows a week. In each episode, we'll take some historic event and show how history could have been changed if something had happened differently. We dramatize the event up to that point just as it really happened, and then a commentary voice comes on and announces that this is the Crossroads of Destiny. This is where history could have been completely changed. Then he gives a resume of what really did happen, and then he says but, suppose so and so had done this and that instead of such and such, then we pick up the dramatization at that point, only we show it the way it might have happened. Like this thing about Columbus, we'll show how it could have happened and end with Columbus waiting ashore with his sword in one hand and a flag on the other, just like in the painting. Only it'll be the English flag and Columbus will shout, I take possession of this new land in the name of his majesty, Henry VII of England. He brandished his drink to the visible consternation of the elderly man beside him, and then the sailors all sing, God save the king. Which wasn't written until about 1745, I couldn't help mentioning. Huh? The plump man looked startled. Are you sure? Then he decided that I was and shrugged, well, they can shout, God save king Henry or Saint George of Feringland or something. Then, at the end, we introduce the program guest, some history expert, a real name and he tells how he thinks history would have been changed if it had happened this way. The conservatively just gentleman beside him wanted to know how long he expected to keep the show running. The crossroads will give out before long, he added. The sponsor will give out first, I said. History is just one damn crossroads after another. I mentioned in passing that I taught the subject. Why, since the beginning of this century, we've had enough of them to keep the show running for a year. We have about twenty already written and ready to produce, the plump man said comfortably, and ideas for twice as many that the planning staff is now working on. The elderly man accepted that and took another cautious sip of wine. What, I wonder though, is whether you can really say that history can be changed? Well, of course the television man was taken back, one always seems to be, when his basic assumption is question, of course, we only know what really did happen, but it stands to reason if something had happened differently, those results would have been different, doesn't it? But it seems to me that everything would work out the same in the long run. There'd be some differences at the time, but over the years wouldn't they all cancel out? Non, non, monsieur, the man with the book, who had been outside the conversation until now, told him earnestly, make no mistake, history can be changed. I looked at him curiously. The accent sounded strange, but it wasn't quite right. He was some kind of a foreigner though, I'd swear that he never bought the clothes he was wearing in this country. The way the suit fitted and the cut of it and the shirt collar and the neck tie, the book he was reading was Langmuir's social history of the American people. Not one of my favorites, a bit too much on the doctor and airside, but what a bookshop clerk would give a foreigner looking for something to explain America. What do you think, professor? The plump man was asking me. It would work out the other way. The differences wouldn't cancel out. They'd accumulate. Say something happened a century ago to throw a presidential election the other way. You'd get different people at the head of the government, opposite lines of policy taken, and eventually we'd be getting into different wars with different enemies at different times and different batches of young men killed before they could marry and have families. Different people being born or not being born, that would mean different ideas, good or bad, being advanced. Different books written, different inventions, and different social and economic problems as a consequence. Look, he's only giving himself a century, the Colonel added. Think of the changes if this thing we were discussing, Columbus, sailing under the English flag had happened. Or, suppose Leif Erickson had been able to plant a permanent colony in America in the 11th century, or if the Saracens had won the battle of Tours. Try to imagine the world today that any of those things had happened. One thing you can be sure of, any errors you make in trying to imagine such a world would be on the side of over-conservatism. The sandy-haired man beside me who had been using his highball for a crystal ball must have glimpsed in it what he was looking for. He finished the drink, set the empty glass on the stand tray beside him, and reached back to push the button. I don't think you realize just how good an idea you have here, he told the plump man abruptly. If you did, you wouldn't ruin it with such timid unimaginative treatment. I thought he'd been staying out of the conversation because it was over his head. Instead, he had been taking the plump man's idea apart, examining all the pieces and considering what was wrong with it and how it could be improved. The plump man looked startled. Then angry, timid and unimaginative were the last things he'd expected his idea to be called. Then he became uneasy. Maybe this fellow was a typical representative of his lord and master, the faceless abstraction called public. What do you mean, he asked? Misplaced emphasis. You shouldn't emphasize the event that could have changed history, you should emphasize the changes that could have been made. You're going to end this show you were talking about with a shot of Columbus waiting up to the beach with an English flag, aren't you? Well, that's the logical ending. That's the logical beginning the sendy-herd man contradicted. After that, your guest historian comes on. How much time will he be allowed? Well, maybe three or four minutes. We can't cut the dramatization too short, and he'll be playing a couple of times, and in words of one syllable, that what we have seen didn't really happen, because if he doesn't, the next morning, half the 12-year-old kids in the country will be rushing wild-eyed into school to slip the teacher the real inside about the discovery of America. By the time he gets that done, he'll be able to mumble a couple of generalities about vast and incalculable effects, and then it'll be time to tell the public about widgets, the really safe cigarettes, all filter and absolutely safe tobacco. The waiter arrived at this point, and the sendy-herd man ordered another rye highball. I decided to have another bourbon on the rocks, and the TV impresario said, gin and tonic, absently, and went into a reverie which lasted until the drinks arrived. Then he came awake again. I see what you mean, he said. Most of the audience would wonder what difference it would have made where Columbus would have gotten his ships, as long as he got them and America got discovered. I can see that, but how could it be handled any other way? How could you figure out just what the difference would have been? Well, you need a man who'd know the historical background, and you need a man with a powerful creative imagination, who is used to using it inside rigorously defined limits. Don't try to get them both in one. A collaboration would really be better. Then you worked from the known situation in Europe and in America in 1492, and decide on the immediate effects. From that, you have to carry it along step by step down to the present. It would be a lot of hard and very exacting work, but the result would be worth it. He took a sip from his glass and added, remember, you don't have to prove that the world today would be the way you set it up. All you have to do is make sure that nobody else would be able to prove that it wouldn't. Well, how could you present that? As a play, with fictional characters and a plot, time the present. Under the changed world, the reason the coward conquers his fear and becomes a hero, the obstacle to the boy marrying the girl, the reason the innocent man is being persecuted, we'll have to grow out of this imaginary world you've constructed and be impossible in our real world. As long as you stick to that, you're alright. Sure, I get that. The Plump Man was excited again. He was about half sold on the idea. But how will we get the audience to accept it? We're asking them to start with an assumption they know isn't true. Maybe in another time dimension the Colonel suggested you can't prove it isn't. And for that matter, you can't prove there aren't other time dimensions. Huh, that's it, the sandy-haired man exclaimed world of alternate probability. That takes care of that. He drank about a third of his highball and set gazing into the rest of it in an almost yogic trance. The Plump Man looked at the Colonel in bafflement. Well, maybe this alternate probability time dimension stuff means something to you, he said. Be damned if it does to me. Well, as far as we live in a four-dimensional universe the Colonel started, the elderly man across from him groaned. Fourth dimension. Good God, what are we going to talk about? Well, it isn't anything to be scared of. You carry an instrument for measuring in the fourth dimension all the time. A watch. You mean it's just time? But that isn't. We know of three dimensions in space the Colonel told him, gesturing to indicate them. We can use them for coordinates to locate things, but we also locate things in time. I wouldn't like to ride in a train or a plane if we didn't. Well, let's call the time we know. The time your watch registers, time A. Now, suppose the entire infinite extent of time A is only an instant in another dimension of time, which we'll call time B. The next instant of time B is also the entire extent of time A and the next and the next. As in time A different things are happening at different instants. In one of these instances of time B, one of the things that's happening is that Henry the seventh of England is furnishing ships to Christopher Columbus. The man with the odd clothes was getting excited again. Zeze, how you say Zeze's alternate probability it is generally accepted in Zeze's country? Got it. The sandy-haired man said before anybody could answer, he set his drink on the stand tray and took a big jackknife out of his pocket holding it unopened in his hand. How's this sound hit the edge of the tray with the back of the knife? BONG! The crossroads of destiny he intoned and hit the edge of the tray again. BONG! This is the year 1959, but not the 1959 of our world for we are in a world of alternate probability in another dimension of time, a world parallel to and coexistent with but separate from our own in which history has been completely altered by a single momentous event. He shifted back to his normal voice. Not bad, only 25 seconds, the plump man said, looking up from his wrist watch and a trained announcer could maybe shave 5 seconds off that. Yes, something like that, and at the end we'll have another 30 seconds and we can do without the guest. But Zeze's alternate probability in another dimension, the stranger was insisting, is Zeze's concept original with you? He asked the Colonel, oh no, that ideas have been around for a long time. I never heard of it before now, the elderly man said, as though that completely demolished it. Zen it is generally accepted by the scientist? Um, no, the sandy-haired man relieved the Colonel. There's absolutely no evidence to support it, and scientists don't accept unsupported assumptions unless they need them to explain something, and they don't need this assumption for anything. Well, it would come in handy to make some of these reports a freak phenomena, like mysterious appearances or flying object sightings or reported falls of non-meteoric matter, theoretically respectable. Reports like that usually get the ignore and forget treatment now. Zen, you believe that Zeze's other world of the alternate probabilities exist? No, I don't disbelieve it either. I've no reason to one way or another. He studied his drink for a moment and lowered the level of the glass slightly. I've said that once in a while things get reported that look as though such other worlds in another time dimension may exist. There have been whole books published by people who collect stories like that. I must say that academic science isn't very hospitable to them. You mean zings sometimes is how you say leak in from one of Zeze's other worlds? That has been known to happen? Things have been said to have happened that might, if true, be cases of things leaking through from another time world. The Sandy-haired man corrected or leaking away to another time world. He mentioned a few of the more famous cases of unexplained mysteries the English diplomat in Prussia who vanished in plain sight of a number of people. The ship found completely deserted by her crew, the life boats all in place, stories like that and there's this rash of alleged sightings of unidentified flying objects. I'd sooner believe they came from another dimension than from another planet but as far as I know nobody seriously advanced this other time dimension theory to explain them. I think the idea is familiar enough though that we can use it as an explanation or pseudo explanation for the program the television man said fact is we aren't married to this crossroads title yet we could just as easily call it fifth dimension that would lead the public to expect something out of the normal before the show started. That got the conversation back onto the show and we talked for some time about it each of us suggested possibilities. The stranger even suggested one that the Civil War had started during the Jackson administration. Fortunately no one else noticed that. Finally a porter came through and inquired if any of us were getting off at Harrisburg saying that we would be getting in in five minutes. The stranger finished his drink hastily and got up saying that he would have to get his luggage. He told us how much he had enjoyed the conversation and then followed the porter towards the rear of the train after he got out the TV man chuckled that one an oddball he exclaimed where the hell do you suppose he got that suit. It was a tailored suit the Colonel said a very good one and I can't think of a country in the world in which they cut suits just like that did you catch his accent phony the television man pronounced a French accent of a German waiter in a fake French restaurant in the Bronx well not quite the pronunciation was all right for French accent but the cadence the way the word sounds were strung together was German the elderly man looked at the Colonel keenly I see your intelligence he mentioned think he might be somebody up your alley Colonel Colonel shook his head I doubt it there are agents of unfriendly powers in this country a lot of them I'm sorry to have to say but they don't speak accent in English and they don't dress eccentricly you know there's an enemy agent in the crowd pick out the most normally American type insight and you usually don't have to look further the train ground to a stop a young couple with hand luggage came in and sat on one end of the car waiting until other accommodations could be found for them after a while it started again I dallyed over my drink and then got up and excuse myself saying that I wanted to turn in early in the next car behind I met the porter who had come in just before the stop he looked worried and after a moment's hesitation he spoke to me pardon sir the man in the club car who got off at Harrisburg did you know him never saw him before why the dollar bill when he got off later I looked at it closely I do not like it he showed it to me and I didn't blame him it was marked one dollar and United States of America but outside that there wasn't a thing right about it one side was gray alright but the other side was green the picture wasn't the right one and there were a lot of other things about it some of them absolutely ludicrous it wasn't counterfeit it wasn't even an imitation of the United States bill and then it hit me like a bullet in the chest not a bill of our United States no wonder he had been so interested in whether our scientists accepted the theory of other time dimensions and other worlds of alternate probability on an impulse I got out two notes and gave them to the porter perfectly good United States gold certificates you'd better let me keep this I said trying to make it sound the way he think a federal agent would say it he took the bill smiling and I folded his bill and put it in my vest pocket thank you sir he said I have no wish to keep it some part of my mind below the level of consciousness must have taken over and guided me to the right car and compartment I didn't realize where I was going until I put on the light and recognize my own luggage then I sat down as dizzy as though the two drinks I had had had been a dozen for a moment I was tempted to rush back to the club car and show the thing to the colonel and the sandy-haired man on second thought I decided against that the next thing was incredible I had to credit it I had the proof in my vest pocket the coincidence arising from our topic of conversation didn't bother me too much either it was the topic which had drawn him into it and as the sandy-haired man had pointed out we know nothing one way or another about these other worlds we certainly don't know what barriers separate them from our own or how often these barriers may fail I might have thought more about it if I'd been in physical science I wasn't I was in American history so what I thought about was what sort of country that other United States must be and what its history must have been the man's costume was basically the same as ours same general style but many little differences in fashion I had the impression that it was a costume of a less formal and conservative society than ours and a more casual way of life it could be the sort of costume into which ours would evolve in another 30 or so years there was another odd thing I'd noticed him looking curiously at both the waiter and the porter as though something about them surprised him the only thing they had in common was their race the same as every other passenger car attendant but he wasn't used to seeing Chinese working the railroad cars and there had been that remark about the Civil War and the Jackson administration I wonder what Jackson he had been talking about not Andrew Jackson the Tennessee militia general who got us into the war with Spain in 1810 I hope and the Civil War that had me baffled completely I wondered if it had been a class war or a regional conflict we'd had plenty of the latter during the first century but all of them had been settled peacefully and constitutionally well some of the things he'd read in Ling Warrior's social history would be surprises for him too and then I took the bill out for another examination it must have gotten mixed in with with his spendable money it was about the size of ours and I wondered how he had acquired enough of our money to pay his train fare maybe he'd had a diamond and sold it I don't know that I blamed him under the circumstances I had an idea that he had some realization of what had happened to him the book and the fake accent to cover any mistakes he might make well I wished him luck and then unfolded the dollar bill and looked at it again in the first place it had been issued by the United States Department of Treasury itself not the United States Bank or one of the state banks I'd have to think over the implications of that carefully in the second place it was a silver certificate why in this other United States silver must be an acceptable monetary medal maybe equally so with gold though I could hardly believe that then I looked at the picture on the gray obverse side and had to strain my eyes on the fine print under it to identify it it was Washington all right but a much older Washington than any of the pictures of him I had ever seen then I realized I knew just where the crossroads of destiny for this world and mine had been as every school child among us knows general George Washington was shot dead at the Battle of Germantown in 1777 by an English or rather Scottish officer Patrick Ferguson the same Patrick Ferguson that invented the breach loading rifle that smashed Napoleon's armies Washington today is one of our lesser national heroes because he was our first military commander in chief but in this other world he must have survived to lead our armies to victory and become our first president as was the case with the man who took his place when he was killed I folded the bill and put it carefully among my identification cards where it wouldn't a second time get mixed in with the money I spent and as I did I wondered what sort of a president George Washington had made and what part in the history of that other United States had been played by the man whose picture appears on our dollar bill general and president Benedict Arnold the end this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org this reading by Debra Lynn in February 2007 Grandma Keeler gets grandpa ready for Sunday school by Sarah P. McLean Green Sunday morning nothing arose in Wallen Camp save the sun at least that celestial orb had long forgotten all the rosy flaming of his youth in an honest straightforward march through the heavens ere the first signs of smoke came curling lazily up from the Wallen Camp chimneys I had retired at night very weary with the delicious consciousness that it wouldn't make any difference when I woke up the next morning or whether indeed I woke it all so I opened my eyes leisurely and lay half dreaming half meditating on a variety of things I deciphered a few of the texts on the scriptural patchwork quilt on my couch there were let not your heart be troubled remember Lot's wife and Philander Keeler traced in inky hieroglyphics all in close conjunction finally I reached out for my watch and having ascertained the time of day I got up and proceeded to dress hastily enough wondering to hear no signs of life in the house I went noiselessly down the stairs all was silent below except for the peaceful snoring of Mrs. Philander and the little keelers which was responded to from some remote western corner of the ark by the triumphant snores of Grandma and Grandpa Keeler I attempted to kindle a fire in the stove but it sizzled a little while spitefully as much as to say what Sunday morning not I and went out so I concluded to put on some wraps and go out and warm myself in the sun I climbed the long hill back of the ark descended and walked along the bank of the river it was a beautiful morning the air was everything that could be desired in the way of air but I felt a desperate need of something more substantial standing alone with nature on the bank of the lovely river I thought with tears in my eyes of the delicious breakfast already recuperating the exhausted energies of my far away home friends when I got back to the house Mrs. Philander in simple and unaffected attire was bustling busily about the stove the snores from Grandma and Grandpa's quarter had ceased signifying that they also had advanced the stage in the grand processes of Sunday morning the children came teasing me to dress them so I fastened for them a variety of small articles which I flattered myself on having combined in a very ingenious and artistic manner though I believed those infant keelers went weeping to Grandma afterward and were remodeled by her all comforting hand with much skill and patience in the midst of her preparations for breakfast Madeline abruptly assumed her hat and shawl and was seen from the window walking leisurely across the field in the direction of the woods she returned in due time bearing an armful of fresh evergreens around the family register when the ancient couple made their appearance I remarked silently in regard to Grandma Keeler's hair what proved afterward to be its usual holiday morning arrangement it was confined in six infinitesimal braids which appeared to be sprouting out perpendicularly in all directions from her head the effect of redundancy and expansiveness thus heightened and increased on Grandma's features was striking in the extreme while we were eating breakfast that good soul observed to Grandpa Keeler while Pa I suppose y'all be ready when the time comes to take teacher and me over to West Wallen to Sunday school won't ya Grandpa coughed and coughed again and raised his eyes helplessly to the window looks some like showers said he looks mildly to me like showers over yonder thou really husband I must say I don't feel mortified for ya said Grandma seen as you're a professor too and there ain't been a single Sunday morning since I've lived with ya Pa summer or winter but what you've seen showers and it really seems to me it's dreadful inconsistent when there ain't no cloud in the sky and don't look no more like rain than I do and Grandma's face in spite of her reproachful tones was above all blandly sun-like and expressive of anything rather than deluge and watery disaster Grandpa was silent a little while then coughed again I had never seen Grandpa in worse straights ahem ahem Fanny seems to be a little lame this morning said he shouldn't wonder she's been going pretty steady this week it does beat all Pa continued Grandma Keeler how to all the horses you've ever had since I've known you have always been took lame on Sunday morning there was Happy Jack he could go any worse through the week and never limp a step as nobody could see Sunday morning he was always took lame and there was Tantrum Tantrum was the horse that had run away with Grandma when she was thrown from the wagon and generally smashed pieces and now Grandma branched off into the thrilling reminiscences connected with this incident of her life which was the third time during the week that I've been repeated for my delectation when she had finished Grandpa shook his head with painful earnestness reverting to the former subject discussion it's a long jaunt said he a long jaunt there's a long yield to climb before we reach Zion's Mount said Grandma Keeler impressively while there's a darn sight harder one on the road to West Wallin burst out the old sea captain say nothing about the devilish stones said Grandma with calm though awful reproof I think we've gone for enough for one day we broke the Sabbath and took the name of the Lord in vain and that ought to be enough for professors Grandpa replied at length in a greatly subdued tone while a few in the teacher want to go over to Sunday school today I suppose we can go if we get ready along submissive sigh I suppose we can they have preaching service in the morning I suppose said Grandma but we don't generally get along to that make such an early start we generally try to get around when we go in time for Sunday school they have singing and all it's just about as interesting I think as preaching the old man really likes it she observed aside to me when he wants to get started but he kind of dreads getting started when I beheld the ordeal through which Grandpa Keeler was called to pass at the hands of his faithful consort before he was considered in a fit condition of mind and body to embark for the sanctuary I marveled not at the old man's reluctance nor that he had indeed seen clouds and tempests fringing the horizon immediately after breakfast he set out for the barn ostensibly to seat of the chores he believed to obtain a few moments respite before worse evil should come upon him pretty soon Grandma was at the back door calling in firm no persuasive tones husband, husband, come in now and get ready no answer then it was in another key weighty yet expressive of no weak irritation that Grandma called come pa, pa, pa still no answer but then that voice of Grandma sung out like a trumpet terrible with meaning bye, Jonah Keeler but Grandpa appeared not next I saw Grandma slowly but surely gravitating in the direction of the barn and soon she returned bringing with her that ancient delinquent who looked like a lost sheep indeed and a truly unreconciled one now the first thing said Grandma looking her forlorn captive over is boot get on your meetin' Gators Pa the old gentleman having dutifully invested himself with those sacred relics came pathetically limping into the room I declare Ma said he somehow these things phew somehow they pinched my feet dreadfully I don't know what it is phew they're dreadful uncomfortable things somehow since I've known ya Pa solemnly ejaculated Grandma Keeler you've never had a pair of meetin' boots that set easy on your feet you ought to get boots big enough for ya Pa she continued looking down disapprovingly on the old gentleman's petal extremities which resembled two small scows at anchor in black cloth encasements and not be so proud as to go to pinchin' your feet into Gators a number of sizes too small for ya they're number tens I tell ya word grandpa netled out he'd just sleep by this cutting taunt well via now Pa said Grandma soothingly if I had such feet as that I wouldn't go to spreadin' it all over town if I was you but it's time we stopped pickin' now husband got ready for meetin' so sit down and let me wash your head I've washed once this morning it's clean enough Grandpa protested but in vain he was planted in a chair and Grandma Keeler with rag and soap water attacked the old gentleman vigorously much as I have seen cruel mothers wash the faces of their earth-begrimed infants he only gave expression to such groans as ah ma don't tear my ears to pieces come ma you got my eyes so full of soap now mother I can't see nothin' phew lordy ain't she most through with this ma then came the dying process which Grandma Keeler assured me aside made Grandpa look like a man of thirty but to me after it he looked neither old nor young, human nor inhuman, nor like anything that I had ever seen before under the sun there's the lotion the potion, the dyer and the setter said Grandma pointin' to four bottles on the table now where's the directions Madeline these having been produced from between the leaves of the family Bible, Madeline read while Grandma made a vigorous simple application of the various mixtures this admirable lotion in soft ecstatic tones Madeline rehearsed the flowery language of the recipe though not so instantaneously startling in its effect as our inestimable dyer and setter yet forms the most essential part of the whole process opening as it does the dry and lifeless pores of the scalp imparting to them new life and beauty and rendering them more really susceptible to the applications which follow but we must go deeper than this a tone must be given to the whole system by means of the cleansing and rejuvenating of the very center of our beings and for this purpose we have prepared our wonderful potion here grandpa with a rye face was made to swallow a spoonful of the mixture our unparalleled dyer Madeline continued restores black hair to a more than original and gives to the faded golden trust of sunny flashes of youth grandpa was died our world renowned setter completes and perfects the whole process by adding tone and permanency to the efficacious qualities of the lotion potion and dyer etc while on grandpa's head the unutterable dye was set now read teacher some of the testimonials daughter said grandma keeler whose face was one broad generous illustration of that rare and peculiar virtue called faith so Madeline continued Mrs. Hiram Briggs of North Dedham writes I was terribly afflicted with baldness so that for months I was little more than an outcast from society an object of pity to my most familiar friends I tried every remedy in vain at length I heard of your wonderful restorative after a weeks application my hair had already begun to grow in what seemed the most miraculous manner at the end of ten months it had assumed such length and proportions as to be a most luxurious burden and where I had before been regarded with pity and aversion I became the envied and admired of all beholders just think said grandma keeler with rapturous sympathy and gratitude how that poor creature must have felt Orion's balding of weedsville Vermont Madeline went on but here I had to beg to be excused and went to my room to get ready for the Sunday school when I came down again grandpa keeler receded completely arrayed in his best clothes opposite grandma who held the big family bible in her lap and a Sunday school question book in one hand now Pa said she what tribe was it in sacred rip that wore bunnets I was compelled to infer from the tone of grandpa keeler's answer that his temper had not undergone a mollifying process during my absence come my said he how much longer you gonna pester me in this way what Pa grandma rejoined calmly until you get a proper understanding of it what tribe was it in sacred rip that wore bunnets lordy exclaimed the old man how do you suppose I know it must have been eternal old womanish looking said anyway the tribe of Judah Pa said grandma gravely now how good it is husband to have your understanding all freshened up on the scriptures come come my said grandpa rising nervously it's time we was starting when I make up my mind to go anywhere I always want to get there in time if I was going to the old harry I should want to get there in time it's my concern that we shall all get there before time some on us said grandma with sad meaning unless we learn to use more respectful language I shall never forget how we set off for church that sabbath morning way out at one of the sunny back doors of the ark for there was Madeline's little cottage at front of the highway or a lane and then there was a long backward extension of the ark only one story in height this belonged peculiarly to grandma and grandpa Keeler it contained the parlor and three keep-in rooms opening one into the other all of the same size and general bare and gloomy appearance all passing the same sacredly preserved atmosphere through which we passed with becoming silence and solemnity into the end room the sunny kitchen where grandma and grandpa kept house by themselves in the summertime and there at the door her very yellow coat reflecting the rays of the sun stood fanny presenting about as much appearance of life and animation as a pensive summer squash the carriage I thought was a facsimile of the one in which I had been brought from west wall and on the night of my arrival one of the most striking peculiarities of this sort of vehicle was the width at which the wheels were set apart the body seemed comparatively narrow it was very long and covered with white canvas neither windows nor doors but just the one guarded opening in front there were no steps leading to this and indeed a variety of obstacles before it and the way grandma affected an entrance was to put a chair on a mound of earth and a cricket on top of the chair and thus having climbed up to fanny's reposeful back she slipped passively down feet foremost to the wiffle tree from thence she easily gained the floor grandpa and I took a less circuitous though perhaps not less difficult route I sat with grandpa on the front seat it may be remarked that the front seat was very much front and the back seat was very much back there was a kind of wooden shelf built outside as a resting place for the feet so that while our heads were under cover our feet were out, utterly exposed to the weather and we must either lay them on the shelf or in space Madeleine and the children stood at the door to see us off all aboard ship ballasted wind fire go ahead Darfani shouted grandpa who seemed quite restored in spirits and held the reins and wielded the whip with the masterful air he spun sea yarns too all the way marvelous ones and grandma's reproving voice was mellowed by the distance and so confusedly mingled with the rumbling of the wheels that it seemed hardly to reach him at all not that grandma looked discomforted on this account or in bad humor on the contrary as she sat back there in the ghostly shadows with her hands folded and her hair combed out in resplendent waves on either side of her head she appeared conscious that every word she uttered was taking root in some obdurate heart she was in every respect the picture of goodwill and contentment but the face under grandpa's antiquated beaver began to give me a fresh shock every time I looked up at him for the light and the air were rapidly turning his rejuvenated locks in his poor thin fringe of whiskers to an unnatural greenish tint while his bushy eyebrows untouched by the hand of art shown as white as ever in spite of the old sea captain's entertaining stories it seemed indeed a long jaunt to West Wallen to say that fanny was a slow horse but a feeble expression of the truth a persevering click click click begin to arise from grandma's quarter this annoyed grandpa exceedingly shut up ma he was moved to exclaim at last and steering this craft click click click came perseveringly from behind dumb at ma dar ma cried grandpa exasperated beyond measure how's this horse going to hear anything I say if you keep up such eternal cackling just as we were coming out of the thickest part of the woods about a mile beyond wallen camp we discovered a man walking in the distance it was the only human being we had seen since we started hello there's lovell exclaimed grandpa I was wondering why we hadn't overtook him before we gently take him in on the road yes yes that's lovell ain't it teacher put up my glasses helplessly I'm sure I said I can't tell positively I have seen mr. Barlow but once and at that distance I shouldn't know my own father must be lovell said grandpa yes I know him hello there ship ahoy ship ahoy grandpa's voice suggested something of the fire and vigor it must have had when it rang out across the foam of waves and pierced the tempest roar the man turned and looked at us and then went on again he don't seem to recognize us said grandma ship ahoy ship ahoy shouted grandpa man turned and looked at us again and this time he stopped and kept on looking when we got up to him we saw that it wasn't lovell barlow at all but a stranger of trampish appearance drunk and fiery and fixed in an aggressive attitude I was naturally terrified what if he should attack us in that lonely spot grandpa was so old and moreover grandpa was so taken aback to find that it wasn't lovell that he began some blunt and stammering expression of surprise which only served to increase the stranger's ire grandma imperturbable soul who never failed to come to the rescue even in the most desperate emergencies grandma climbed over to the front thrust out her benign head and said in that stranger's we're going to the house of god brother won't you get in and go to no our brother replied doubling up his fists and shaking them menacingly in our faces I won't go to no house of god what do you mean by overhauling me on the road and asking me to get into your damned old traveling lunatic asylum drive on pa said grandma coldly he ain't no condition to be labored with now drive on kinda quick we could not go but fanny was made to do her best and we did not pause to look behind when we got to the church Sunday school had already begun there was lovell barlow looking preternaturally stiff in his best clothes sitting with a class of young men he saw us when we came in and gave me a look of deep meaning it was the same expression as though there was some solemn mutual understanding between us which he had worn on that night when he gave me his picture there's plenty of young folks classes said grandma but seen as we're late maybe you just as soon go right along in with us I said that I should like that best so I went into the old folks class with grandma and grandpa keeler there were three pews of old people in front of us and the teacher who certainly seemed to me the oldest person I had ever seen sat in an otherwise vacant pew in front of all so that his voice being very thin and quarrelous we could hear very little that he said although we were edified in some faint sense by his pious manner of shaking his head and rolling his eyes toward the ceiling the church was a square wooden edifice of medium size and contained three stoves all burning brightly against this and the drowsy effect of their long drive in the sun and wind my two companions proved powerless to struggle grandpa looked furtively up at grandma then endeavored to put on as a sort of apology for what he felt was inevitably coming a sanctimonious expression which was most unnatural to him and which soon faded away as a sweet unconsciousness of slumber over spread his features his head fell back helplessly his mouth opened wide he snored but not very loudly I looked at grandma wondering why her vigilance had failed on this occasion and lo her head was falling peacefully from side to side she was fast asleep too she woke up first however and then grandpa was speedily and adroitly aroused by some means I think it was a pin and grandma fed him with bits of unsweetened flag root which he munched penitently though evidently without relish until he dropped off to sleep again and she dropped off to sleep again and so they continued but it always happened that grandma woke up first and whereas grandpa when the avenging pin pierced his shins recovered himself with a start and an air of guilty confusion grandma opened her eyes at regular intervals with the most common placidity as though she had merely been closing them to engage in a few moments of silent prayer end of grandma keeler gets grandpa ready for Sunday school by Sarah P. McLean Green this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org read and recorded by Betsy Bush Marquette Michigan February 2006 an heiress from Red Horse by Ambrose Bierce Coronado June 20th I find myself more and more interested in him it is not I am sure his do you know any noun corresponding to the adjective handsome one does not like to say beauty when speaking of a man he is handsome enough heaven knows I should not even care to trust you with him faithful of all possible wives that you are when he looks his best as he always does nor do I think the fascination of his manner has much to do with it you recollect that the charm of art inheres in that which is undefinable and to you and me my dear Irene I fancy that there is rather less of that in the branch of art under consideration than to girls in their first season I fancy I know how my fine gentleman produces many of his effects and could perhaps give him a pointer on heightening them nevertheless his manner is something truly delightful I suppose what interests me chiefly is the man's brains his conversation is the best I have ever heard and altogether unlike anyone's else he seems to know everything as indeed he ought for he has been everywhere read everything seen all there is to see sometimes I think rather more than is good for him and had acquaintance with the queerest people and then his voice Irene when I hear it I actually feel as if I ought to have paid at the door though of course it is my own door July 3 I fear my remarks about Dr. Barrett's must have been being thoughtless very silly or you would not have written of him with such levity not to say disrespect believe me dearest he has more dignity and seriousness of the kind I mean which is not inconsistent with a manner sometimes playful and always charming than any of the men that you and I met and young Rainer you knew Rainer at Monterey tells me that the men all like him and that he is treated with something like deference everywhere there is a mystery to something about his connection with the Blavetsky people in northern India Rainer either would not or could not tell me the particulars I infer that Dr. Barrett's is thought don't you dare laugh at me a magician could anything be finer than that an ordinary mystery is not of course as good as a scandal but when it relates to dark and dreadful practices to the exercise of unearthly powers could anything be more pecan't it explains to the singular influence the man has upon me it is the undefinable in his art black art seriously dear I quite tremble when he looks me full in the eyes with those unfathomable orbs of his which I have already vainly attempted to describe to you how dreadful if we have the power to make one fall in love do you know if the Blavetsky crowd have that power outside of Sepoy July one the strangest thing last evening while Auntie was attending one of the hotel hops I hate them Dr. Barrett's called it was scandalously late I actually believe he had talked with Auntie in the ballroom and learned from her that I was alone I had been all the evening contriving how to worm out of him the truth about his connection with the thugs in Sepoy and all of that black business but the moment he fixed his eyes on me for I admitted him I'm ashamed to say I was helpless I trembled I blushed I oh Irene Irene I love the man beyond expression and you know how this is yourself fancy I an ugly duckling from Red Horse daughter they say of old Calamity Jim certainly his heiress with no living relation but an absurd old aunt who spoils me a thousand and fifty ways absolutely destitute of everything but a million dollars and a hope in Paris I daring to love a God like him my dear if I had you here I could tear your hair out with mortification I am convinced that he is aware of my feeling for he stayed but a few moments said nothing but what another man might have said half as well and pretending that he had an engagement went away I learned today a little bird told me the bell bird that he went straight to bed how does that strike you as evidence of exemplary habits July 17th that little wretch Rainer called yesterday and his babble set me almost wild he never runs down that is to say when he exterminates a score of reputations more or less he does not pause between one reputation and the next by the way he inquired about you and his manifestations of interest in you had I confess a good deal of resemblance Mr. Rainer observes no game laws like death which he would inflict if slander were fatal he has all seasons for his own but I like him for we knew one another at Red Horse when we were young and true hearted and barefooted he was known in those far fair days as giggles and I oh Irene can you ever forgive me I was called Gunny God knows why perhaps an illusion to the material of my pinafores perhaps because the name is an alliteration with giggles for Gig and I were inseparable playmates and the minors may delicate compliment to recognize some kind of relationship between us later we took in a third another of adversities brood who like Garrick between tragedy and comedy had a chronic inability to adjudicate the rival charms to herself of frost and famine between him and the grave there was seldom anything more than a single suspender and the hope of a meal which would at the same time support life and make it insupportable he literally picked up a carious living for himself and an aged mother by coloriding the dumps that is to say the minors permitted him to search the heaps of waste rock for such pieces of pay or as had been overlooked and these he sacked up and sold at the syndicate mill he became a member of our firm gunny giggles and dumps thenceforth through my favor for I could not then nor could I now be indifferent to his courage and prowess in defending against giggles the immemorial right of his sex to insult a strange and unprotected female myself after old Jim struck it in the calamity and I began to wear shoes and go to school and in emulation giggles took to washing his face and became Jack Rainer of Wells Fargo and Company and old Mrs. Barts was herself colorided to her fathers dumps drifted over to San Juan Smith and turned stage driver and was killed by road agents and so forth why do I tell you all this dear because it is heavy on my heart because I walk the valley of humility because I am subduing myself to permanent consciousness of my unworthiness to unloose the latchet of Dr. Barrett's shoes because oh dear oh dear there's a cousin of dumps at this hotel I haven't spoken to him I never had any acquaintance with him but do you suppose he has recognized me? do please give me in your next your candid sure enough opinion about it and say you don't think so do you think he knows about me already and that is why he left me last evening when he saw that I'd blushed and trembled like a fool under his eyes you know I can't bribe all the newspapers and I can't go back on anybody who was good to Gunny at Red Horse not if I am pitched out of society into the sea gelatin sometimes rattles behind the door I never cared much before as you know but now, now it is not the same Jack Rainer I am sure of he will not tell him he seems indeed to hold him in such respect as hardly to dare speak to him at all and I'm a good deal that way myself dear dear I wish I had something besides a million dollars if Jack were three inches taller I'd marry him alive and go back to Red Horse and wear sackcloth again to the end of my miserable days July 25th we had a perfectly splendid sunset last evening and I must tell you all about it I ran away from Auntie and everybody and was walking alone on the beach I expect you to believe you infidel that I had not looked out of my window on the seaward side of the hotel and seen him walking alone on the beach if you are not lost in the feeling of womanly delicacy you will accept my statement without question I soon established myself under my sunshade and had for some time been gazing out dreamily over the sea when he approached walking close to the edge of the water it was ebb tide I assure you the wet sand actually brightened about his feet as he approached me he lifted his hat saying Miss Dement, may I sit with you in a little bit of shame or a void of blood you are going to see a better well-treated zinc I look in his sights I possible hear only that he doesn't have a lot of nothingness but seeing him I'm ready to say a few more monies so I99 rescue him so he heard out He extended his hand, smiling, and I delivered mine into it without a moment's hesitation, and when his fingers closed about it to assist me to my feet, the consciousness that it trembled made me blush worse than the red west. I got up, however, and after a while, observing that he had not let go my hand, I pulled on it a little, but unsuccessfully. He simply held on, saying nothing, but looking down into my face with some kind of a smile. I didn't know, how could I, whether it was affectionate, derisive, or what, for I did not look at him. How beautiful he was, with the red fires of the sunset burning in the depths of his eyes. Do you know, dear, if the thugs and experts of the Blavatsky region have any special kind of eyes? Ah, you should have seen his superb attitude, the godlike inclination of his head as he stood over me after I had got upon my feet. It was a noble picture, but I soon destroyed it, for I began at once to sink again to the earth. There was only one thing for him to do, and he did it. He supported me with an arm about my waist. "'Miss Dement, are you ill?' he said. It was not an exclamation. There was neither alarm nor solicitude in it. If he had added, I suppose that is about what I am expected to say, he would hardly have expressed his sense of the situation more clearly. His manner filled me with shame and indignation, for I was suffering acutely. I wrenched my hand out of his, grasped the arm supporting me, and, pushing myself free, fell plump into the sand and sat helpless. My hat had fallen off in the struggle, and my hair tumbled about my face and shoulders in the most mortifying way. "'Go away from me,' I cried, half choking. "'Oh, please go away, you—you thug. How dare you think that when my leg is asleep! I actually said those identical words, and then I broke down and sobbed. Irene, I blubbered!' His manner altered in an instant. I could see that much through my fingers and hair. He dropped on one knee beside me, parted the tangle of hair, and said in the tenderest way, "'My poor girl, God knows I have not intended to pain you. How should I? I who love you, I who have loved you for—for years and years!' He had pulled my wet hands away from my face, and was covering them with kisses. My cheeks were like two coals. My whole face was flaming, and I think steaming. What could I do? I hid it on his shoulder. There was no other place. And oh, my dear friend, how my leg tingled and thrilled, and how I wanted to kick! We sat so for a long time. He had released one of my hands to pass his arm about me again. And I possessed myself of my handkerchief, and was drying my eyes and my nose. I would not look up until that was done. He tried in vain to push me a little away and gaze into my eyes. Presently, when it was all right, and it had grown a bit dark, I lifted my head, looked him straight in the eyes, and smiled my best, my level best, dear. What do you mean? I said, by years and years. Dearest, he replied very gravely, very earnestly. In the absence of the sunken cheeks, the hollow eyes, the lank hair, the slouching gate, the rags, dirt and youth, can you not, will you not understand? Gunny, I am dumps. In a moment I was upon my feet, and he upon his. I seized him by the lapels of his coat, and peered into his handsome face in the deepening darkness. I was breathless with excitement. And you are not dead? I asked, hardly knowing what I said. Only dead in love, dear. I recovered from the road agent's bullet, but this, I fear, is fatal. But about Jack, Mr. Rainer, don't you know? I am ashamed to say, darling, that it was through that unworthy person's invitation that I came here from Vienna. Irene, they have played it upon your affectionate friend. P.S. The worst of it is that there is no mystery. That was an invention of Jack to arouse my curiosity and interest. James is not a thug. He solemnly assures me that in all his wanderings he has never set foot in support. End of An Eris from Red Horse by Ambrose Bierce. Her turn. This is the Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. This reading by Lucy Burgoyne. Her turn by D.H. Lawrence. She was his second wife, and so there was between them that truce which has never held between a man and his first woman. He was one for the women, and as such an exception among the colliers. In spite of their prudery, the neighbour women liked him. He was big, naive and very courteous with them. He was so, even to his second wife. Being a large man of considerable strength and perfect health, he earned good money in the pit. His natural courtesy saved him from enemies. While his fresh interest in life made his presence always agreeable. So he went his own way, had always plenty of friends, also a good job down pit. He gave his wife 35 shillings a week. He had two grown up sons at home, and they paid 12 shillings each. There was only one child by the second marriage, so Redford considered his wife did well. 18 months ago, Brian and Wentworth's men were out on strike for 11 weeks. During that time, Mrs Redford could neither conjoal nor entreat nor nag the 10 shilling strike pay from her husband, so that when the second strike came on, she was prepared for action. Redford was going, quite inconspicuously, to the publican's wife at the Golden Horn. She is a large, easygoing lady of 40, and her husband is 63, more over crippled with rheumatism. She sits in the little bar parlor of the wayside public house, knitting for dear life, and sitting a very moderate glass of scotch. When a decent man arrives at the three-foot width of bar, she rises, serves him, surveyes him over, and, if she likes his looks, says, won't you step inside, sir? If he steps inside, he will find not more than one or two men present. The room is warm, quite small. The landlady knits. She gives a few polite words to the stranger, then resumes her conversation with the man who interests her most. She is straight, highly coloured, with indifferent brown eyes. What was that, you ask me, Mr. Redford? What is the difference between a donkey's tail and a rainbow? Asked Redford, who had a consuming passion for conundrums. All the difference in the world, replied the landlady. Yes, but what so special difference? I shall have to give it up again. You think me a donkey's head, I'm afraid. Not likely, but just you consider, now where? The conundrum was still underway when a girl entered. She was swarthy, a fine animal, after she had gone out. Do you know who that is? Asked the landlady. I can't say as I do, replied Redford. She's Frederick Pinnock's daughter from Stony Fort. She's courting our willy. And the fine lass too. Yes, fine enough, as far as that goes. What sort of wife or she make him? Thank you. You just let me consider a bit, said the man. He took out a pocketbook and a pencil. The landlady continued to talk to the other guests. Redford was a big fellow, blackhead, with a brown mustache and darkish blue eyes. His voice, naturally deep, was pitched in his throat and had a peculiar tenor quality, rather husky and disturbing. He modulated at a good deal as he spoke, as men do who talk much with women. Always there was a certain indolence in his carriage. Our master's lazy, his wife said. There's many a bit of a jab wants doing, but get him to do it if you can. But she knew he was merely indifferent to the little jobs and not lazy. He sat writing for about ten minutes at the end of which time he read. I see a fine girl full of light. I see her just ready for wetlock. But there's jealousy between her eyebrows and jealousy on her mouth. I see trouble ahead. Willie is delicate. She would do him no good. She would never see when he wasn't well. She would only see what she wanted. So in phrases he got down his thoughts. He had to fumble for expression and therefore anything serious he wanted to say he wrote in poetry as he called it. Presently the landlady rose saying, well, well, I shall have to be looking after our mister. I shall be in again before we close. Redford sat quite comfortably on. In a while he too bathed the company good night. When he got home at a quarter past eleven, his sons were in bed and his wife sat awaiting him. She was a woman of medium height, fat and sleek, a dumpling. Her black hair was parted smooth. Her narrow open eyes were sly and satirical. She had a peculiar twang in her rather sleering voice. Our missus is a puss puss, he said easily of her. Her extraordinarily smooth, sleek face was remarkable. She was very healthy. He never came in drunk. Having taken off his coat and his cap, he sat down to supper in his shirt sleeves. Do as he might, she was fascinated by him. He had a strong neck with the crisp hair growing low. Let her be angry as she would, yet she had a passion for that neck of his. Particularly when she saw the great vein rib under the skin. I think, missus, he said, I'd rather have a smarter cheese than this, mate. Well, can't you get it yourself? Yeah, surely I can, he said, and went out to the pantry. I think if you're coming in at this time of the night, you can wait on yourself, she justified herself. She moved uneasily in her chair. There were several jam tarts alongside the cheese on the dish he brought. He misses. Them tamtaflings go down very nicely, he said. Oh, will they, then you'd better help to pay for them, she said, amenable, but determined. Now, what are after? What am I after? Why can't you think, she said sarcastically. I'm not for thinking, missus. No, I know you're not, but where's my money? You've been paid the union today. Where do I come in? They've got money, and the money is it. Thank you, and haven't you done as well? I had no, not till we was paid, not a hate penny. Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself to say so. Have and so? We'll go shared with the union money, she said. That's nothing, but what's right? We're sure now, they've got plenty of money as they can use. Oh, all right, she said. I will do. She went to bed. It made her feel sharp that she could not get at him. The next day, she was just as usual, but at 11 o'clock she took her purse and went uptown. Trade was very slick. Men stood about in gangs. Men were playing marbles everywhere in the streets. It was a sunny morning. Mrs. Radford went into the furniture and upholstered shop. There's a few things, she said to Mr. Elcock, as I'm wanting for the house. And I might as well get them now, while the men's at home and can ship me the furniture. She put her fat purse onto the counter with a click. The man should know she was not wanting strapped. She bought linoleum for the kitchen, a new ringer, a breakfast service, a spring mattress, and various other things. Keeping a mere 30 shillings, which she tied in a corner of a handkerchief in her purse was some loose silver. Her husband was gardening in a desultery fashion when she got back home. The daffodils were out. The colts in the field at the end of the garden were tossing their velvety brown necks. See thee, Mrs., called Radford from the shed, which stood halfway down the park. Two dubs in a cage were cooing. What have you got? Asked the woman as she approached. He held out to her in his big, earthy hand, a tortoise. The reptile was very, very slowly eschewing its head, again to the warmth. He's wakened up at times, said Radford. He's like the men wakened up for a holiday, said the wife. Radford scratched the little bee's scaly head. We pleased to see him out, he said. They had just finished dinner when a man knocked at the door. From Elcox, he said. The plump woman took up the clothes basket containing the crockery she had bought. What ever has got there, asked her husband. We've been wanting some breakfast cups for ages, so I went up town and got them. This morning, she replied. He watched her taking out the crockery. Hmm, he said. Just been on the spin, seemingly. Again, there was a thud at the door. The man had put down a roll of linoleum. Mr. Radford went to look at it. They come rolling in, he exclaimed. Who's grumbled more than you about the raggy oilcloth of this kitchen? Said the insidious, cat-like voice of the wife. It's all right, it's all right, said Radford. The carter came up the entry with another roll, which he deposited with a grunt at the door. And how much do you reckon this slot is, he asked. Oh, they're all paid for, don't worry, replied the wife. Shall you give me a hand, Mr., asked the carter. Radford followed him down the entry in his easy, slouching way. His wife went after. His waistcoat was hanging loose over his shirt. She watched his easy movement of well-being as she followed him and she laughed to herself. The carter took hold of one end of the wire mattress, dragged it forth. Well, this is a corker, said Radford, as he received the burden. Now the mangle, said the carter. What does reckon this been up to, Mrs., asked the husband. I said to myself, last watch day, if I had to turn that mangle again, they'd have to wash the clothes thyself. Radford followed the carter down the entry again, in the street, women were standing watching, and dozens of men were lounging round the car. One, officiously, helped with the ringer. Give them thrippance, said Mrs., Radford. Give them thyself, replied her husband. I've no change under half a crown. Radford tipped the carter and returned indoors. He surveyed the array of crockery, linoleum, mattress, mangle, and other goods crowding the house and the yard. Well, this is a winder, he repeated. We stood in need of them enough, she replied. I hope that's got plenty more from where they came from. He replied dangerously. That's just what I haven't. She opened her purse, two half crowns, that's every copper I've got in the world. He stood very still as he looked. It's right, she said. There was a certain smug sense of satisfaction about her, a wave of anger came over him, blinding him, but he waited and waited. Suddenly his arm leapt up, the fist clenched, and his eyes blazed at her. She shrunk away, pale and frightened, but he dropped his fist to his side, turned and went out muttering. He went down to the shed that stood in the middle of the garden. There he picked up the tortoise and stood with bent head, rubbing its horny head. She stood hesitating, watching him. Her heart was heavy, and yet there was a curious, cat-like look of satisfaction round her eyes. Then she went indoors and gazed at her new cups, admiringly. The next week he handed her his half sovereign without a word. You want some for yourself? She said, and she gave him a shilling. He accepted it. End of story.