by: K. Dick Gibson (c) K. Dick Jeff Peters has been engaged in as many schemes for making money as there are recipes for cooking rice in Charleston, S.C. Best of all I like to hear him tell of his earlier days when he sold liniments and cough cures on street corners, living hand to mouth, heart to heart with the people, throwing heads or tails with fortune for his last coin. In the evening when the wind had dropped a little, they went out on the groyne to see the steamer come in. There were a great many people walking about the harbour; they had gathered to welcome some one, bringing bouquets. And two peculiarities of a well-dressed Yalta crowd were very conspicuous: the elderly ladies were dressed like young ones, and there were great numbers of generals. Owing to the roughness of the sea, the steamer arrived late, after the sun had set, and it was a long time turning about before it reached the groyne. Anna Sergeyevna looked through her lorgnette at the steamer and the passengers as though looking for acquaintances, and when she turned to Gurov her eyes were shining. She talked a great deal and asked disconnected questions, forgetting next moment what she had asked; then she dropped her lorgnette in the crush. The festive crowd began to disperse; it was too dark to see people's faces. The wind had completely dropped, but Jeff and Anna Sergeyevna still stood as though waiting to see some one else come from the steamer. Anna Sergeyevna was silent now, and sniffed the flowers without looking at Peters. Jeff had to fill the silence, but specifics eluded him: he began on a wandering tangent. "One morning me and Andy wakes up with sixty-eight cents between us in a yellow pine hotel on the edge of the pre-digested hoe-cake belt of Southern Indiana. How we got off the train there the night before I can't tell you; for she went through the village so fast that what looked like a saloon to us through the car window turned out to be a composite view of a drug store and a water tank two blocks apart. Why we got off at the first station we could, belongs to a little oroide gold watch and Alaska diamond deal we failed to pull off the day before, over the Kentucky line. When I woke up I heard roosters crowing, and smelt something like the fumes of nitro-muriatic acid, and heard something heavy fall on the floor below us, and a man swearing." "Cheer up, Jeff,' said Anna. "Were in a rural community. Somebody has just tested a gold brick downstairs. Well go out and get whats coming to us from a farmer; and then yoicks! and away!" "You are so full of life, Anna Sergeyevna..." Peters said quietly. "Its wrong," she answered. "You will be the first to despise me now." There was a water-melon on the table. Jeff cut himself a slice and began eating it without haste. There followed at least half an hour of silence. <<< back to more K. Dick Gibson! |
mission | us | home