The Tragedy of Pudd'nhead Wilson eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 210 pages of information about The Tragedy of Pudd'nhead Wilson.

The widow had a large spare room, which she let to a lodger, with board, when she could find one, but this room had been empty for a year now, to her sorrow.  Her income was only sufficient for the family support, and she needed the lodging money for trifling luxuries.  But now, at last, on a flaming June day, she found herself happy; her tedious wait was ended; her year-worn advertisement had been answered; and not by a village applicant, no, no!—­this letter was from away off yonder in the dim great world to the North; it was from St. Louis.  She sat on her porch gazing out with unseeing eyes upon the shining reaches of the mighty Mississippi, her thoughts steeped in her good fortune.  Indeed it was specially good fortune, for she was to have two lodgers instead of one.

She had read the letter to the family, and Rowena had danced away to see to the cleaning and airing of the room by the slave woman, Nancy, and the boys had rushed abroad in the town to spread the great news, for it was a matter of public interest, and the public would wonder and not be pleased if not informed.  Presently Rowena returned, all ablush with joyous excitement, and begged for a rereading of the letter.  It was framed thus: 

HONORED MADAM:  My brother and I have seen your advertisement, by chance, and beg leave to take the room you offer.  We are twenty-four years of age and twins.  We are Italians by birth, but have lived long in the various countries of Europe, and several years in the United States.  Our names are Luigi and Angelo Capello.  You desire but one guest; but, dear madam, if you will allow us to pay for two, we will not incommode you.  We shall be down Thursday.

“Italians!  How romantic!  Just think, Ma—­there’s never been one in this town, and everybody will be dying to see them, and they’re all OURS!  Think of that!”

“Yes, I reckon they’ll make a grand stir.”

“Oh, indeed they will.  The whole town will be on its head!  Think—­they’ve been in Europe and everywhere!  There’s never been a traveler in this town before, Ma, I shouldn’t wonder if they’ve seen kings!”

“Well, a body can’t tell, but they’ll make stir enough, without that.”

“Yes, that’s of course.  Luigi—­Angelo.  They’re lovely names; and so grand and foreign—­not like Jones and Robinson and such.  Thursday they are coming, and this is only Tuesday; it’s a cruel long time to wait.  Here comes Judge Driscoll in at the gate.  He’s heard about it.  I’ll go and open the door.”

The judge was full of congratulations and curiosity.  The letter was read and discussed.  Soon Justice Robinson arrived with more congratulations, and there was a new reading and a new discussion.  This was the beginning.  Neighbor after neighbor, of both sexes, followed, and the procession drifted in and out all day and evening and all Wednesday and Thursday.  The letter was read and reread until it was nearly worn out; everybody admired its courtly and gracious tone, and smooth and practiced style, everybody was sympathetic and excited, and the Coopers were steeped in happiness all the while.

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The Tragedy of Pudd'nhead Wilson from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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