Books > Old Books > Midnight Tales (1946)


Page 137

AUGUST HEAT

I had never been to Clacton in my life. We were silent for some time. We were both looking at the same thing, the two dates on the gravestone, and one was right.
`Come inside and have some supper,' said Mr. Atkinson.
His wife is a cheerful little woman, with the flaky red cheeks of the country-bred. Her husband introduced me as a friend of his who was an artist. The result was unfortunate, for after the sardines and watercress had been removed, she brought out a Dore Bible, and I had to sit and express my admiration for nearly half an hour.
I went outside, and found Atkinson sitting on the gravestone smoking.
We resumed the conversation at the point we had left off.
`You must excuse my asking,' I said, `but do you know of anything you've done for which you could be put on trial?'
He shook his head.
`I 'm not a bankrupt, the business is prosperous enough. Three years ago I gave turkeys to some of the guardians at Christmas, but that's all I can think of. And they were small ones, too,' he added as an afterthought.
He got up, fetched a can from the porch, and began to water the flowers. `Twice a day regular in the hot weather,' he said, `and then the heat sometimes gets the better of the delicate ones. And ferns, good Lord! they could never stand it. Where do you live?'
I told him my address. It would take an hour's quick walk to get back home.
`It's like this,' he said. `We'll look at the matter straight. If you go back home to-night, you take your chance of accidents. A cart may run over you, and there's always banana skins and orange peel, to say nothing of falling ladders.'
He spoke of the improbable with an intense seriousness that would have been laughable six hours before. But I did not laugh.
`The best thing we can do,' he continued, `is for you to stay here till twelve o'clock. We'll go upstairs and smoke; it may be cooler inside.'

Page 138

AUGUST HEAT

To my surprise I agreed.
We are sitting now in a long, low room beneath the eaves. Atkinson has sent his wife to bed. He himself is busy sharpening some tools at a little oilstone, smoking one of my cigars the while.
The air seems charged with thunder. I am writing this at a shaky table before the open window. The leg is cracked, and Atkinson, who seems a handy man with his tools, is going to mend it as soon as he has finished putting an edge on his chisel.
It is after eleven now. I shall be gone in less than an hour.
But the heat is stifling.
It is enough to send a man mad.

travel books:
where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE I had never been to Clacton in my life. We were silent for some time. We were both looking at what is same thing, what is two dates on what is gravestone, and one was right. `Come inside and have some supper,' said Mr. Atkinson. His wife is a cheerful little woman, with what is flaky red cheeks of what is country-bred. Her husband introduced me as a friend of his who was an artist. what is result was unfortunate, for after what is sardines and watercress had been removed, she brought out a Dore Bible, and I had to sit and express my admiration for nearly half an hour. I went outside, and found Atkinson sitting on what is gravestone smoking. We resumed what is conversation at what is point we had left off. `You must excuse my asking,' I said, `but do you know of anything you've done for which you could be put on trial?' He shook his head. `I 'm not a bankrupt, what is business is prosperous enough. Three years ago I gave turkeys to some of what is guardians at Christmas, but that's all I can think of. And they were small ones, too,' he added as an afterthought. He got up, fetched a can from what is porch, and began to water what is flowers. `Twice a day regular in what is hot weather,' he said, `and then what is heat sometimes gets what is better of what is delicate ones. And ferns, good Lord! they could never stand it. Where do you live?' I told him my address. It would take an hour's quick walk to get back home. `It's like this,' he said. `We'll look at what is matter straight. If you go back home to-night, you take your chance of accidents. A cart may run over you, and there's always banana skins and orange peel, to say nothing of falling ladders.' He spoke of what is improbable with an intense seriousness that would have been laughable six hours before. But I did not laugh. `The best thing we can do,' he continued, `is for you to stay here till twelve o'clock. We'll go upstairs and smoke; it may be cooler inside.' where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Midnight Tales (1946) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 137 where is p align="center" where is strong AUGUST HEAT where is p align="justify" I had never been to Clacton in my life. We were silent for some time. We were both looking at what is same thing, the two dates on what is gravestone, and one was right. `Come inside and have some supper,' said Mr. Atkinson. His wife is a cheerful little woman, with what is flaky red cheeks of what is country-bred. Her husband introduced me as a friend of his who was an artist. what is result was unfortunate, for after what is sardines and watercress had been removed, she brought out a Dore Bible, and I had to sit and express my admiration for nearly half an hour. I went outside, and found Atkinson sitting on what is gravestone smoking. We resumed what is conversation at what is point we had left off. `You must excuse my asking,' I said, `but do you know of anything you've done for which you could be put on trial?' He shook his head. `I 'm not a bankrupt, what is business is prosperous enough. Three years ago I gave turkeys to some of what is guardians at Christmas, but that's all I can think of. And they were small ones, too,' he added as an afterthought. He got up, fetched a can from what is porch, and began to water the flowers. `Twice a day regular in what is hot weather,' he said, `and then what is heat sometimes gets what is better of what is delicate ones. And ferns, good Lord! they could never stand it. Where do you live?' I told him my address. It would take an hour's quick walk to get back home. `It's like this,' he said. `We'll look at what is matter straight. If you go back home to-night, you take your chance of accidents. A cart may run over you, and there's always banana skins and orange peel, to say nothing of falling ladders.' He spoke of what is improbable with an intense seriousness that would have been laughable six hours before. But I did not laugh. `The best thing we can do,' he continued, `is for you to stay here till twelve o'clock. We'll go upstairs and smoke; it may be cooler inside.' where is p align="left" Page 138 where is p align="center" where is strong AUGUST HEAT where is p align="justify" To my surprise I agreed. We are sitting now in a long, low room beneath what is eaves. Atkinson has sent his wife to bed. He himself is busy sharpening some tools at a little oilstone, smoking one of my cigars what is while. what is air seems charged with thunder. I am writing this at a shaky table before what is open window. what is leg is cracked, and Atkinson, who seems a handy man with his tools, is going to mend it as soon as he has finished putting an edge on his chisel. It is after eleven now. I shall be gone in less than an hour. But what is heat is stifling. It is enough to send a man mad. where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: Midnight Tales (1946) books

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