700 Common Words Exercise No. 4
I did not know the Blacks very well as a family, but I
had run up against them in the street from time to time. They had lived in a
large old house just off the High Street. The house was too large for their
requirements, and it was difficult to keep warm in winter. The bedrooms were
too big, and when the weather was cold people trying to find comfort in the
sitting room might just as well have been in the street outside for all the
warmth they received from the coals burning in the little fireplace. But the
Blacks did not move into a smaller and newer house. It did not come into their
heads to do so. The old house had always been their home. Father and mother had
lived there from the first day of their married life, and the two children had
spent all their days there. There they were and there they were likely to be in
the years to come. Modern and new houses were short in the days that followed
the war, and Black himself found the situation of the old place very
satisfactory because he ran an office in the High Street, and he could walk to
or from his work in a matter of five minutes. This saved him time, money, and
trouble, and he thought himself a very happy man in this respect. I doubt whether
I ever would have gone into that house had I not offered to try to get some
money for a good cause in which I was at that time interested. I went from
house to house which I was at that time interested. I went from house to house
asking for money. I may add that I did not like asking other people to give up
their hard – won money, but, on the other hand, I very much desired money for
my cause, and so I was able to steel myself to go my rounds. Most people gave
willingly a little perhaps, but a large enough number of small amounts can make
a large sum, and I was always thankful for anything down to the last penny. The
door of the Black house was opened by a little maid who showed me into the
sitting-room. It was a cold afternoon, and the mother and the girl were sitting
near to the fire reading. My surprise must have shown itself on my fact. I
looked from one to the other. The mother must have married quite young, for she
was clearly under 40 while the girl was quite young, for she was clearly under
40 while the girl was about 17. What surprised me was that the two faces looked
just the same. Not a line showed on the mother’s face, and her eyes, so clear
and blue, were no less beautiful that those of the girl. The faces were small
and perfect in form. Never had I before seen such a remarkable likeness between
two people of such different age. Yet there was a difference, and what a
difference it was! Done high up on the
girl’s head, above those blue eyes, was a wonderful mass of red-gold.
Where were the modern painters, I asked myself, waiting to paint this red-gold
loveliness for future people to look at? Such a wonderful thing should be seen
by all the world. It was not enough for it to be kept here, not known, not
loved, except by her own family. How long, I asked myself, could such colour
last? It seemed to burn, and I had the feeling that it would burn itself out. I
turned my eyes back to the mother, with her perfect face. Done high up on her
head in the say way was a mass of white. I looked, and not one touch of colour
cold I see. My face must have expressed only too clearly my thoughts, for the
mother turned to me and said: Yes, it is very beautiful. I was just like that
once, and look at me now! All the women in our family are white before they are
30.
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