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    The Albany Depot : a Farce
    The Albany Depot : a Farce
    The Albany Depot : a Farce
    Ebook62 pages39 minutes

    The Albany Depot : a Farce

    By William Dean Howells

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 15, 2013
    The Albany Depot : a Farce
    Author

    William Dean Howells

    William Dean Howells was a realist novelist, literary critic, and playwright, nicknamed "The Dean of American Letters". He was particularly known for his tenure as editor of The Atlantic Monthly, as well as for his own prolific writings.

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      Book preview

      The Albany Depot - William Dean Howells

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Albany Depot, by W. D. Howells

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

      Title: The Albany Depot

             A Farce

      Author: W. D. Howells

      Release Date: July 26, 2009 [EBook #7364]

      Last Updated: November 1, 2012

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ALBANY DEPOT ***

      Produced by Eric Eldred, and David Widger

      THE ALBANY DEPOT

      A FARCE

      By W. D. Howells

      NEW YORK

      HARPER AND BROTHERS

      1892

      Copyright, 1891, by HARPER & BROTHERS

      (THE ACTION PASSES IN BOSTON)

      I. MR. AND MRS. EDWARD ROBERTS; THE CHOREWOMAN

      Mrs. Roberts, with many proofs of an afternoon's shopping in her hands and arms, appears at the door of the ladies' room, opening from the public hall, and studies the interior with a searching gaze, which develops a few suburban shoppers scattered over the settees, with their bags and packages, and two or three old ladies in the rocking-chairs. The Chorewoman is going about with a Saturday afternoon pail and mop, and profiting by the disoccupation of the place in the hour between the departures of two great expresses, to wipe up the floor. She passes near the door where Mrs. Roberts is standing, and Mrs. Roberts appeals to her in the anxiety which her failure to detect the object of her search has awakened: "Oh, I was just looking for my husband. He was to meet me here at ten minutes past three; but there don't seem to be any gentlemen."

      The Chorewoman: Mem?

      Mrs. Roberts: I was just looking for my husband. He was to meet me here at ten minutes past three; but there don't seem to be any gentlemen. You haven't happened to notice—

      The Chorewoman: There's a gentleman over there beyant, readin', that's just come in. He seemed to be lukun' for somebody. She applies the mop to the floor close to Mrs. Roberts's skirts.

      Mrs. Roberts, bending to the right and to the left, and then, by standing on tiptoe, catching sight of a hat round a pillar: Then it's Mr. Roberts, of course. I'll just go right over to him. Thank you ever so much. Don't disturb yourself! She picks her way round the area of damp left by the mop, and approaches the hat from behind. "It is you, Edward! What a horrid idea I had! I was just going to touch your hat from behind, for fun; but I kept myself from it in time."

      Roberts, looking up with a dazed air from the magazine in his hand: Why, what would have happened?

      Mrs. Roberts: "Oh, you know it mightn't have been you."

      Roberts: "But it was I."

      Mrs. Roberts: "Yes, I know; and I was perfectly sure of it; you're always so prompt, and I always wonder at it, such an absent-minded creature as you are. But you came near spoiling everything by getting here behind this pillar, and burying yourself

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