The Elevator – William D. Howells
SCENE: Through the curtained doorway of MRS. EDWARD ROBERTS’S pretty drawing-room, in Hotel Bellingham, shows the snowy and gleaming array of a table set for dinner, under the dim light of gas-burners turned low. An air of expectancy pervades the place, and the uneasiness of MR. ROBERTS, in evening dress, expresses something more as he turns from a glance into the dining-room, and still holding the portiere with one hand, takes out his watch with the other.
MR. ROBERTS to MRS. ROBERTS entering the drawing-room from regions beyond: “My dear, it’s six o’clock. What can have become of your aunt?”
MRS. ROBERTS, with a little anxiety: “That was just what I was going to ask. She’s never late; and the children are quite heart-broken. They had counted upon seeing her, and talking Christmas a little before they were put to bed.”
ROBERTS: “Very singular her not coming! Is she going to begin standing upon ceremony with us, and not come till the hour?”
MRS. ROBERTS: “Nonsense, Edward! She’s been detained. Of course she’ll be here in a moment. How impatient you are!”
ROBERTS: “You must profit by me as an awful example.”
MRS. ROBERTS, going about the room, and bestowing little touches here and there on its ornaments: “If you’d had that new cook to battle with over this dinner, you’d have learned patience by this time without any awful example.”
ROBERTS, dropping nervously into the nearest chair: “I hope she isn’t behind time.”
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