“Here, you,” snapped Harriman. “Take that milk around the back way. What do you mean by bringing it in this way?”
“Mean?” said the milkman. “I mean that I am a Virginia gentleman, and I am not accustomed to be talked to in this manner, suh. I shall deliver this milk where I please, suh. If you do not like it you have a means of obtaining satisfaction, suh. No No’therner like you can talk to me like that, suh.”
Harriman retired. Next morning, when the same milkman arrived, Harriman greeted him with a low bow. “You are right,” he said. “Take the milk in the front way and leave it on the piano.” (Text.)
(2504)
Recently I read the experience of a yachting party on the Mediterranean. A sudden storm had come up and threatened to overwhelm the boat. One of the two women on board lost her head completely and seemed crazed by fear. Suddenly she cried out to the other woman sitting calmly beside her: “You know you are as frightened as I am. Why don’t you show it, too?” “Oh, yes, I am frightened,” replied the other woman, “for I know the danger we are in. But, if we are going to die, do let us at least die like ladies.” And that appeal to pride wrought a complete change in the frightened woman, she became calm and even spoke words of encouragement to the others.—M. O. Simmons.
(2505)
There was once a proud little Icicle who stood all alone out in the cold. She wore a dress that sparkled like diamonds, but for all that, no one cared to go near her. The snowflakes were having a game of tag in the sky. Nearer and nearer the earth they played until some of them espied Miss Icicle.
“Do come and play with us!” they cried.