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117 pages

English

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In this delightful reimagining of the age-old fairytale, lovely but desperately poor Marilla struggles with a massive workload in her job as a domestic servant. Will she ever escape her dire circumstances and find true love? This charming tale is sure to please readers of all ages.

Sujets

Children's

Informations

Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 décembre 2013
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781776515882
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0134€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

A MODERN CINDERELLA
* * *
AMANDA MINNIE DOUGLAS

*
A Modern Cinderella First published in 1913 Epub ISBN 978-1-77651-588-2 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77652-902-5 © 2013 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
*
Chapter I - At the Palace Chapter II - Jack Chapter III - Playing Hookey Chapter IV - Poor Cinderella Chapter V - The Fairy Godmother Chapter VI - Doctor Richards Chapter VII - A Day to Be Remembered Chapter VIII - A New Glimpse of Servitude Chapter IX - The Little Thorns Chapter X - On the Border of Tragedy Chapter XI - The Ark of Love Chapter XII - A Wonderful Happening Chapter XIII - A New Atmosphere Chapter XIV - The Real Fairyland
Chapter I - At the Palace
*
"You may stay down here until nine o'clock if you like," said Bridget."It's awful cold upstairs. Be sure to wrap yourself good in the oldblanket. And put a little coal on the range. If you let my fire goout, I'll skin you alive."
When Marilla first heard that threat she shuddered all over. If youscratched a little bit of skin off it hurt dreadfully. But Bridgetnever did it. Sometimes she hit her a slap on the shoulder. Shecouldn't even bear to skin a rabbit. "What do you mean by it?" Marillagained courage to ask once, when she came to feel at home.
"Oh, I don't know. My mother used to say it. Sometimes she took astrap to us, but she wasn't ever real hard."
Marilla knew about the strap in Bethany Home though she didn't oftenget it.
"I'll remember about the fire."
"Good night!" Bridget was off.
She always took two or three evenings out in the week and had Sundayafternoon instead of Thursday because they had late dinners during theweek. She was very excellent help, so Mrs. Borden let her have her ownway.
It was nice and warm in the kitchen; clean, too. Bridget couldn'tabide a dirty kitchen. Marilla had wiped the dishes, scoured out thesink and set the chairs straight around. It was a basement kitchenwith a dining room above. The front was the furnace cellar, the middlefor vegetables and what Bridget called truck.
Marilla sat in the little old rocking chair and put her feet on theoven hearth. It was very nice to rock to and fro and no babies to tendnor Jack to bother with. She sang a few hymns she knew, she said overseveral, little poems she had learned and spelled a few words. Bridgethad turned the gas low, and she couldn't reach it without getting ona chair or she could have read. So she told herself a story that shehad read.
It was very comfortable. She was getting a bit sleepy. Suppose shetook a teeny nap as she did sometimes when she was waiting forBridget. So she shook up the old cushion, brought up the stool, sat onthat and laid her head in the chair. And now she wasn't a bit sleepy.She thought of the stove and put on some coal, lest she might fallasleep.
She hoped it would be warmer tomorrow when she took out the twins.Then she would venture to stop at the book store window and look atthe pictures on the magazine covers. There was a baby that looked solike the twins it made her laugh. She didn't think the twins pretty atall. They had round chubby faces and almost round eyes, and mouthsthat looked as if they were just ready to whistle, and brown fuzzyhair without a bit of curl in it. But they were good, "as good askittens," their mother said. She did so wish she had a kitten. She hadbrought such a pretty one from the store one day, a real maltese withblack whiskers, but Bridget said she couldn't have a cat foreverround under her feet and made her take it back.
Jack was past five and very pretty, but bad as he could be. Bridgetsaid he was a "holy terror," but she thought holiness was goodness anddidn't see the connection. He was a terror, that any one could see.
There was a queer shady look in the corners. She wasn't a bit afraid.The children at Bethany Home weren't allowed to be. She liked this agreat deal better. She wasn't compelled to eat her whole breakfast offof oatmeal, and always had such lovely desserts for dinner. Andsometimes Mrs. Borden gave her and Jack a banana or a bit of candy.Oh, yes, she would much rather live here even if Jack was bad andpinched her occasionally though his mother slapped him for it, orpinched him back real hard.
What made this lovely, rosy, golden light in the room? It was like asoft sunset. She had been saying over a lot of Mother Goose rhymes; ofcourse she was too old for such nonsense and Jack didn't like them.And in "One, two, buckle my shoe," she wondered which she liked best:"Nineteen, twenty, my stomach's empty," or "nineteen, twenty, I'vegot a plenty." That was Bethany Home where you only had so much forsupper and one little cracker. And here there was plenty. It made herlaugh.
And then suddenly there was a pretty little woman in the room dressedin something soft and shining and in her hand she held a stick with abunch of gay bows at the end. She was so sweet and smiling thatMarilla couldn't feel afraid.
"You don't know me, Cinderella?" she began, looking at the child.
"Oh, that isn't my name."
"You don't sit in the ashes any more but I dare say you brush up andcarry them out in the morning. But I don't find Cinderellas often atthis time of night."
"I wish I was Cinderella. I have a little foot though, only it don'tlook so in these big brogans. I put some soles inside of them, bits ofvelvet carpet and they keep my feet nice and warm. I do think if theglass slipper wasn't too teeny weeny I could wear it."
"You're a cute one. About the soles, now. Most children haven't anyuseful ideas," and she laughed. "I knew who you were; now can youguess who I am?"
"Why if I was Cinderella you'd be a fairy godmother. But there ain'tany such things; nor Santa Claus. I like the stories about 'em and I'mawful sorry. I'm only Mrs. Borden's bound-out girl, but I like ithere."
"You think so?" She gave the most curious, delightful laugh. "You areCinderella and I am the fairy godmother."
Marilla sprang up and studied her. She was so pretty and her gownlooked as if it was sprinkled with diamond dust. She had never seenany one like her, but at twelve her range of observation had beenrather limited.
"Well, what do you think of me?"
Marilla stood wide eyed and speechless.
"Why—you are very beautiful. Oh, I wish you were a fairy godmother!I'd like to go to fairy land. I don't think any one would mind much,but I do believe the twins would care. Bridget says there isn't anysuch thing and then she tells about a little girl who was toted awayand had to stay seven years."
"You couldn't stay that long, and times have changed, and you have noenvious sisters. You're a rather lonely little body with no father ormother."
"Oh, how did you know that?"
She laughed, the softest, merriest laugh.
Marilla looked and looked, the little body was so sweet andmysterious.
"Oh, fairy godmothers know a great many things. They keep watch overthe Cinderellas and then when they find one to their liking theyappear to her, and then strange things happen."
"Yes they are strange," said the little girl.
"Would you like to go to the ball?"
"Oh! Why I'm afraid I wouldn't know what to do," hesitatingly, "I'venever seen a ball."
"You can dance. I saw you dancing with an organ grinder."
"Oh, yes, I can dance that way, but—"
"Would you like to go?"
"Oh, wouldn't I!" Marilla's eyes shone with delight. "If you were afairy godmother you could put me in some clothes."
Marilla didn't believe in it at all, but it was very funny.
"Then just step out here."
She did with the strangest sort of feeling. The fairy touched her withthe wand. Her clothes fell in a heap. The big shoes dropped off. Therewas a shimmery pink silk frock with lace and ribbons and the daintiestpink kid slippers with diamond buckles and pink silk stockings withlovely clocks. She went dancing around the kitchen light as a feather,her eyes shining, her cheeks like roses, her lips full of smiles. Shewas fairly bewitched.
"You'll do," exclaimed godmother, and she threw a beautiful whitecloak about her.
"But we haven't a pumpkin in the house and Bridget catches all themice and burns them up. So you can't make a carriage—"
"There's one at the door." The hall seemed all alight and they wentout. Yes, there was a coach with lamps on both sides, two horses and adriver, besides a footman who helped them in with a fine air, anddrove off as gay as if it was Christmas night, though it were reallyMarch.
The streets were alight, the windows shining in splendor. Marilla hadnever seen anything like it. Presently they stopped at what seemed tothe little girl a great palace with broad white marble steps and tallcarved columns lighted by myriads of colored lights and the vestibulewas hung with vines. There were statues standing round that lookedlike real people only they were so white from top to toe. Then theywent up another beautiful stairway that led to a gallery where therewere numbers of inviting little rooms, and throngs of elegantlydressed people, not any larger than boys and girls. A maid took offtheir wraps, and brushed Marilla's hair and it fell in golden ringsall over her head.
"What beautiful hair," she exclaimed, "just like threads of silk. Youmust let it grow long. And such lovely eyes; but she's thin."
"Yes, rather," said godmother, "But she has dancing feet. She's a realCinderella."
"There's so many of them and only one Prince. What a pity!"
"But each has her turn, and they are very happy."
Then