Sheila of Big Wreck Cove - A Story of Cape Cod by James A. Cooper
page 8 of 344 (02%)
page 8 of 344 (02%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
proposition. That feller's prospectus did read mighty reasonable,
Prudence." "I know it did, Ira," she agreed cordially. "I believed in it just as strong as you did. You warn't none to blame." "Well, I dunno. It's mighty nice of you to say so, Prue. But they told me afterward that I might have knowed that a feller couldn't extract ten dollars' wuth of gold from the whole Atlantic Ocean, not if he bailed it dry!" "We've got enough left to keep us, Ira." "Just about. Just about. That is just it. When I was taken down with this rheumatiz and the hospital doctors in New York told me I could never think of pacing my own quarter no more, we had just enough left invested in good securities for us to live on the int'rest." "And the old place, here, Ira," added his wife cheerfully. "Which ain't much more than a shelter," he rejoined rather bitterly. "And just as I say, it isn't fit for two old folks like us to live alone in. Why, we can't even raise our own potatoes no more. And I never yet heard of pollack swimmin' ashore and begging to be split and dried against winter. No, sir!" "The Lord's been good to us, Ira. We ain't never suffered yet," she told him softly. "I know that. We ain't suffering for food and shelter. But, I swan, |
|