Jennie Musgrave woke at the shrill rasp of the alarm clock as she always woke—with the shuddering start and a heavy realization that the brief respite of the night's oblivion was over. She had only time to glance through the dull light at the cluttered, dusty room, before John's voice was saying sleepily as he said every morning, "All right, let's go. It doesn't seem as if we'd been in bed at all!" Jennie dressed quickly in the clothes, none too clean, that, exhausted, she had flung from her the night before. She hurried down the back stairs, her coarse shoes clattering thickly upon the bare boards. She kindled the fire in the range and then made a hasty pretense at washing in the basin in the sink. John strode through the kitchen and on out to the barn. There were six cows to be milked and the great cans of milk to be taken to the station for the morning train. Jennie put coffee and bacon on the stove, and then, catching up a pail from the porch, we...
You are a gifted writer. Thanks for sharing the diary posts. When Queens Ride By is one of my favorite short stories. Hope you will write some more.
ReplyDeleteIs there going to be anymore? Would love for it to continue.
ReplyDeleteYour writing is wonderful. In your description, though, please note that the original was not published in 1888. Agnes Turnbull was born in 1888, and the story was published in the 1930s about a 1920s farm. :)
ReplyDeletethanks for the correction, Jillian!
DeletePlease write more, Suzanne!
ReplyDelete