The S. W. F. Club - Caroline Emilia Jacobs - Bog

Pauline dropped the napkin she was hemming and, leaning back in her chair, stared soberly down into the rain-swept garden. Overhead, Patience was having a "clarin' up scrape" in her particular corner of the big garret, to the tune of "There's a Good Time Coming." Pauline drew a quick breath; probably, there was a good time coming-any number of them-only they were not coming her way; they would go right by on the main road, they always did.