BOOK TWO
THE TIN-CANNERS
CHAPTER I
OF JANUARY IN THE NORTH—OF THE WINTER PASTIMES OF MR. AND MRS. CHARLES WALNUT—AND OF A PENETRATING CHILL
Scene I of this drama of American manners is laid in the small and more or less flourishing town of East Rockpile in the northern state of Massachusetts, Illinois, Maine, Indiana, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Vermont, Ohio or Connecticut. Or Rhode Island or Michigan. Or New Hampshire or New York.
The month is January and there are three feet of snow on the ground. The temperature is so low that the mercury has shriveled in the thermometer bulb until it looks like a small silver cherry in a cocktail. The feet of passers-by make the same sort of squeak in the frozen snow that a mouse makes when it unexpectedly falls six feet behind a bedroom wall at two o’clock in the morning.
Mrs. Charles Walnut, wife of East Rockpile’s popular contractor and builder, is seated before a roaring open fire in the parlor of the Walnut home reading a mailorder catalogue. Directly behind her chair an oil stove emanates heat-waves and an oil-stove odor. In spite of this Mrs. Walnut shivers perceptibly from time to time and hunches herself more firmly into the woolen shawl that is wrapped around her shoulders. She is studying the portion of the catalogue devoted to Gardening Tools.
There is a loud thumping and kicking outside. The front door opens and closes with a bang, and a moment later Mr. Walnut enters the room chafing his ears briskly. “My gorry, it’s cold!” he observed, moving his feet up and down in a gingerly manner.