The American Claimant, Mark Twain [great novels to read txt] 📗

ometimes byanother, according to occasion and circumstance. He was constructingwhat seemed to be some kind of a frail mechanical toy; and was apparentlyvery much interested in his work. He was a white-headed man, now, butotherwise he was as young, alert, buoyant, visionary and enterprising asever. His loving old wife sat near by, contentedly knitting andthinking, with a cat asleep in her lap. The room was large, light, andhad a comfortable look, in fact a home-like look, though the furniturewas of a humble sort and not over abundant, and the knickknacks andthings that go to adorn a living-room not plenty and not costly. Butthere were natural flowers, and there was an abstract and unclassifiablesomething about the place which betrayed the presence in the house ofsomebody with a happy taste and an effective touch.

Even the deadly chromos on the walls were somehow without offence;in fact they seemed to belong there and to add an attraction to the room--a fascination, anyway; for whoever got