Week 7
The Lady in Black (By Eleanor H. Porter)
The house was very still. In the little room over the porch, the Lady in Black sat alone.
Near her, a child's white dress lay across a chair. On the floor at her feet lay a tiny pair of shoes.
A doll hung over a chair and a toy soldier occupied the little stand by the bed. And everywhere was silence—the strange silence that comes only to a room where the clock has stopped ticking. The clock stood on the shelf near the end of the bed. The Lady in Black looked at it. She remembered the wave of anger that had come over her when she had reached out her hand and silenced the clock that night three months before. It had been silent ever since and it should remain silent, too. Of what possible use were the hours it would tick away now? As if anything mattered, with little Kathleen lying out there white and still under the black earth! The Lady in Black looked at them with serious eyes, and her mouth hardened at the corners. Bobby had someone to play with him, someone to love him and care for him, while out there on the hillside Kathleen was alone--all alone. With a little cry the Lady in Black sprang to her feet and hurried into her own room. Her hands shook as she pinned on her hat and covered herself with her black veil. But her step was firm as she walked downstairs and out through the hall.
Near her, a child's white dress lay across a chair. On the floor at her feet lay a tiny pair of shoes.
A doll hung over a chair and a toy soldier occupied the little stand by the bed. And everywhere was silence—the strange silence that comes only to a room where the clock has stopped ticking. The clock stood on the shelf near the end of the bed. The Lady in Black looked at it. She remembered the wave of anger that had come over her when she had reached out her hand and silenced the clock that night three months before. It had been silent ever since and it should remain silent, too. Of what possible use were the hours it would tick away now? As if anything mattered, with little Kathleen lying out there white and still under the black earth! The Lady in Black looked at them with serious eyes, and her mouth hardened at the corners. Bobby had someone to play with him, someone to love him and care for him, while out there on the hillside Kathleen was alone--all alone. With a little cry the Lady in Black sprang to her feet and hurried into her own room. Her hands shook as she pinned on her hat and covered herself with her black veil. But her step was firm as she walked downstairs and out through the hall.
The house was very still when the Lady in Black reached home. She shivered at its silence. She hurried up the stairs, almost with guilt. In her own room she pulled at the dark veil that covered her face. She was crying now, a choking little cry with broken words running through it. She was still crying as she removed her black dress.
Long minutes later, the Lady--in black no longer--moved slowly down the stairway. Her eyes showed traces of tears, but her lips were bravely curved in a smile. She wore a white dress and a single white rose in her hair. Behind her, in the little room over the porch, a tiny clock ticked loudly on its shelf near the end of the bed.
There came a sound of running feet in the hall below, then:
"Muvver!--it's Muvver come back!" shouted a happy voice.
And with a little sobbing cry Bobby's mother opened her arms to her son.
"The Lady in Black" was written by Eleanor H. Porter. It was adapted for Special English by Lawan Davis who was also the producer. The storyteller was Faith Lapidus.
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