Adapted from Edgar A. Poe
Note.—The ingeniousness of the idea in this story marks it as Poe’s, though it lacks some of the characteristics which we expect to find in everything that came from the brain of that most unusual writer. Many of his poems and many of his most famous stories, such as Ligeia, The Fall of the House of Usher, Eleanora and The Masque of the Red Death, have a fantastic horror about them which is scarcely to be found in the writings of any other man. The Gold Bug, which is included in Volume IX of this series is a characteristic example of another type of Poe’s stories; it shows at its best his marvelous inventive power.
Three Sundays in a Week, as given here, has been abridged somewhat, though nothing that is essential to the story has been omitted.
“You hard-hearted, dunder-headed, obstinate, rusty, crusty, musty, fusty, old savage!” said I, in fancy, one afternoon, to my granduncle, Rumgudgeon, shaking my fist at him in imagination. Only in imagination. The fact is, some trivial difference did exist, just then, between what I said and what I had not the courage to say—between what I did and what I had half a mind to do.
The old porpoise, as I opened the drawing-room door, was sitting with his feet upon the mantelpiece, making strenuous efforts to accomplish a ditty.
“My dear uncle,” said I, closing the door gently and approaching him with the blandest of smiles, “you are always so very kind and considerate, and have evinced your benevolence in so many—so very many ways—that—that I feel I have only to suggest this little point to you once more to make sure of your full acquiescence.”
“Hem!” said he, “good boy! go on!”
“I am sure, my dearest uncle (you confounded old rascal!) that you have no design really and seriously to oppose my union with Kate. This is merely a joke of yours, I know—ha! ha! ha!—how very pleasant you are at times.”
“Ha! ha! ha!” said he, “curse you! yes!”
“To be sure—of course! I knew you were jesting. Now, uncle, all that Kate and myself wish at present, is that you would oblige us—as regards the time—you know, uncle—in short, when will it be most convenient for yourself that the wedding shall—shall come off, you know?”