The Staying Guest
Carolyn Wells
language
(Transcript, Feb. 23, 2015)
The Staying Guest by Carolyn WellsOver the hills and far away there was once a quaint little old town which was safely beyond the reach of the long, grasping arms of any of the great cities.The little town nestled up against the side of a big, kind hill, at the top of which was a beautiful old country-place, called Primrose Hall.The house was a great white colonial affair that had belonged to the Flint family for generations; and at present was occupied only by two elderly maiden ladies who admirably fitted their names of Priscilla and Dorinda.Now of course you know, without being told, what a lady named Priscilla Flint would look like. Tall, straight, thin, stiff, formal, prim, smug, demure, with a stately, old-fashioned dignity and refinement. And Miss Dorinda Flint was like unto her, except that she was a little taller, straighter, thinner, stiffer, and a trifle more stately and old-fashioned. And these ladies, whene’er they took their walks abroad, or drives either, for that matter, wore stiff, prim black silk dresses, and black lace mitts, and little point-lace collars pinned with big gold brooches; and they always carried tiny, black, ruffled parasols that tipped on their handles to any desired angle.With such mistresses as these, it is easy to see why Primrose Hall was the stiffest, primmest place in the whole world.