Árdís - 01.01.1953, Page 55

Árdís - 01.01.1953, Page 55
Ársrit Bandalags lúterskra kvenna 53 that smelled of alcohol and drugs, on head and rash. Leaving Cecilia May asleep on the settee in the sun room, Grace did the wash. She was hanging it out, when her new neighbor, Alice Peake, called. “How was the baby last night?” She spoke in a breathless manner brushing back a brown wisp of hair across her cheek. With- out waiting for an answer, she went on. “Marge told us about the baby. We all think you are wonderful. Just a sec.” She ducked back into her house, appearing again with a tray. “Let’s sit on your stoop.” Pouring coffee from a thermos, she said. “I’m sure ready for this.” Taking a sip, Grace said, “It’s delicious cofíee.” “Washing by hand sure is hard.” Alice crunched the crisp toast with strong teeth. “But you can’t have everything,” she added with a smile. “We’re dishing out money for the house, and furniture, and fridge, and stove. And on top of all that we get our baby, Danny.” She smiled again, and shrugged a slim shoulder. “One can’t have everything.” “My dear,” Grace said, “you’re welcome to use my washing machine. I’m sorry I didn’t offer it before.” Alice gave a startled look. “Do you really mean that? That would be super.” She placed the cups on the tray. “How’s the baby?” “She had a good breakfast, and now is sleeping.” “Dr. Mike — everyone calls him that — is certainly wonderful with those children. Ugly puglies, he calls them. Marge is wonder- ful too.” “Are these two young people engaged to be married?” Grace asked, remembering the glances of love flashed between them. “No.” Alice tucked the wisp of hair behind her ear. “They’re crazy about each other. But Dr. Mike has some silly idea about marriage. Says he’ll never marry.” She started off with the tray, then turnéd. “This afternoon we girls are bringing some things over for the baby.” Cecilia May, wearing a fresh flanelette gown, was cooing on the divan when Grace heard a noise on the porch, then the bell. Opening the door she saw two strange young women with a baby buggy. “I’m Betty McLean,” the brown-haired one said. “And this is
Page 1
Page 2
Page 3
Page 4
Page 5
Page 6
Page 7
Page 8
Page 9
Page 10
Page 11
Page 12
Page 13
Page 14
Page 15
Page 16
Page 17
Page 18
Page 19
Page 20
Page 21
Page 22
Page 23
Page 24
Page 25
Page 26
Page 27
Page 28
Page 29
Page 30
Page 31
Page 32
Page 33
Page 34
Page 35
Page 36
Page 37
Page 38
Page 39
Page 40
Page 41
Page 42
Page 43
Page 44
Page 45
Page 46
Page 47
Page 48
Page 49
Page 50
Page 51
Page 52
Page 53
Page 54
Page 55
Page 56
Page 57
Page 58
Page 59
Page 60
Page 61
Page 62
Page 63
Page 64
Page 65
Page 66
Page 67
Page 68
Page 69
Page 70
Page 71
Page 72
Page 73
Page 74
Page 75
Page 76
Page 77
Page 78
Page 79
Page 80
Page 81
Page 82
Page 83
Page 84
Page 85
Page 86
Page 87
Page 88
Page 89
Page 90
Page 91
Page 92
Page 93
Page 94
Page 95
Page 96
Page 97
Page 98
Page 99
Page 100
Page 101
Page 102
Page 103
Page 104
Page 105
Page 106
Page 107
Page 108
Page 109
Page 110
Page 111
Page 112
Page 113
Page 114
Page 115
Page 116
Page 117
Page 118
Page 119
Page 120
Page 121
Page 122
Page 123
Page 124
Page 125
Page 126
Page 127
Page 128
Page 129
Page 130
Page 131
Page 132

x

Árdís

Direct Links

If you want to link to this newspaper/magazine, please use these links:

Link to this newspaper/magazine: Árdís
https://timarit.is/publication/755

Link to this issue:

Link to this page:

Link to this article:

Please do not link directly to images or PDFs on Timarit.is as such URLs may change without warning. Please use the URLs provided above for linking to the website.