SHORT STORIES
F
F
Originally fiction meant anything made up, created, or shap
ed
Today we have refined the definition to mean a prose story
based or
the imagination of the author. Fiction writers may imitate the
forms 01
nonfiction or use true or historically accurate details in their stories
.
At the same time, they write not to re-create reality but to enterta
in
and perhaps to comment on human existence.
One of the most popular forms of fiction, the short story was first
defined by Edgar Allan Poe. He was sure that ‘worldly inter
ests’
prevented most readers from concentrating on reading. He
felt that a
short, concentrated tale that could be read in one sitting
and that
created a single, powerful impression was the best type
of fiction.
Today, innumerable writers have followed Poe’s recommendatio
ns,
creating stories on a vast array of subjects. For instance,
this unit
includes short stories ranging from a tale of three wishes to
a story of
an empty house after a nuclear war.
As opposed to other types of fiction, short stories are character
ized by a limited number of characters, restricted settings,
and a
narrow range of action. Short stories, however, share commo
n ele
ments with other forms. Seven of those elements are examin
ed in
this unit—plot, characterization, point of view, setting, symbo
ls, tone
and irony, and theme. Plot refers to the series of events that make
up
the story. Characterization is the creation of reasonable facsim
iles of
human beings with all their warts and smiles. Point of view
is the
perspective of the story, the voice or speaker who is doing the
narrat
ing. Setting refers to the natural or artificial environment in which
the
story takes place. A symbol may be understood to mean someth
ing
beyond itself. Every short story has a tone, or attitude, that the
writer
conveys toward the story itself and toward you, the reader.
A special
element sometimes used in creating tone is irony, in which
writers
use language or situations that are the opposite of what is expe
cted.
Finally, theme is what the short story reveals about life,
the central
idea presented throughout the work.
These, then, are the major tools short story writers have at their
disposal. Understanding the elements of the story will help
you dis
cover the author’s intentions and what is being said about life
and the
human experience. Although you, the reader, might
studyin
be
g one
of the elements, it is important to realize that a short story
is unified,
that all elements happen at once in the tale. As you
read, consider
the whole as well as the parts.
I
RE ACTIVELY
ij
“hrt Storic’
A short story is fiction—a work of
hterature in which the char
acters and events are created by the
author. Fiction allows you to
explore new worlds, share joys and
sorrows of characters, and learn
from their experiences.
Reading short stories is an acti
ve process. It is a process in
which you envision what is happen
ing in the story and derive mean
ing from the picture you are envisio
ning. You do this through the fol
lowing active-reading strategies;
1)1 1 I 1U\ What questions
come to mind as you are read
ing?
For example, why do the characters
act as they do? What causes
events to happen? Why does the wri
ter include certain information?
Look for answers to your questio
ns as you read.
‘. Is I \ I I! I Use details
from the story to create a pict
ure in your
mind. As you read along, change
your picture as the story unfold
s
and your understanding grows. If
you find yourself confused, try
to
state your confusion. Use your visu
alization to clarify whatever hasn’t
been clear to you.
On pages 3—13 you
will see an example of ac
tive reading by Mariene
Sanchez of Onate High
School in Las Cruces, New
Mexico. The notes in the
ske column include Mar
lerie’s thoughts and com
ments as she read “Games
at Twilight.” Your own
thoughts as u read the
story may be different
because each reader re
sponds differently to a story.
2
Short Stories
t’Rl l)l( I What do you think
will happen? Look for hints in
the
story that seem to suggest a cert
ain outcome. As you read on,
you
will see if your predictions are cor
rect.
( ) \ \ I ( I Bring your own
experience and knowledge to
the
story. Make connections with wha
t you know about similar situatio
ns
or people in your life.
Also make connections betw
een one event and another
in the
story. Try to summarize how all
the pieces of the story fit togethe
r.
I
\ I) Think about what the
story means. What does it say
to you? What feelings does it
evoke in you? What has the stor
y
added to your understanding of
people and of life in general?
Try to use these strategies as
you read the stories in this unit.
The strategies will help you incr
ease your understanding and
enjoy
ment of literature.
MOL
Games at Twilight
Anita Desai
It was still too hot to play outdoors. They had had their tt...,
they had been washed and had their hair brushed, and after
the long day of confinement In the house that was not cool but
at least a protection from the sun, the children strained to get
out. Their faces were red and bloated with the effort, but their
mother would not open the door, everything was still cur
tained and shuttered in a way that stifled the children, made
them feel that their lungs were stuffed with cotton wool and
their noses with dust and if they didn’t burst out into the light
and see the sun and feel the air, they would choke.
‘Please, Ma, please,” they begged. “We’ll play In the
veranda and porch—we won’t go a step out of the porch.”
“You will, I know you will, and then—”
“No—we won’t, we won’t,” they wailed so horrendously
that she actually let down the bolt of the front door so that
they burst out like seeds from a crackling, over-ripe pod into
the veranda, with such wild, maniacal yells that she retreated
to her bath and the shower of talcum powder and the fresh
sari’ that were to help her face the summer evening.
i.
I
They faced the afternoon. It was too hot. Too bright. The
white walls of the veranda glared stridently in the sun. The
bougainvillea hung about it, purple and magenta, in livid
2
balloons. The garden outside was like a tray made of beaten
brass, flattened out on the red gravel and the stony soil in all
shades of metal—aluminum, tin, copper and brass. No life
stirred at this arid time of day—the birds still drooped, like
dead fruit, In the papery tents of the trees; some squirrels lay
1. sari (sW re) n.: A long piece of cloth wrapped around the body
torming a skirt and draped over one shoulder: worn by Hindu
women.
2. bougalnviu.a (b gn vii’ e ) 0.: Woody. tropical vines with
flowers.
Games at Twilight
.3
limp on the wet earth under the gard
en tap. The outdoor dog
lay stretched as If dead on the veranda
mat, his paws and ears
and tail all reaching out like dying travelers
in search of water
He rolled his eyes at the children—two
white marbles rolling
in the purple sockets, begging for sym
pathy—and attempted
to lift his tall in a wag hut could not.
It only twitched
still
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.Short Stories
and lay
Then, perhaps roused by the shrieks
of the children, a
hand of parrots suddenly fell out
of the eucalyptus tree,
tumbled frantically In the still, sizzl
ing air, then sorted
themselves out into battle formation
and streaked away
across the white sky.
The children, too, felt released. They
too began tumbling,
shoving, pushing against each othe
r, frantic to start. Start
what? Start their business. The busi
ness of the children’s day
which Is—play.
“Let’s play hide-and-seek.”
“Who’ll be It?”
“You be It.”
“Why should I? You be—”
“You’re the eldest—”
“That doesn’t mean—”
The shoves became harder. Some kick
ed out, The mother
ly Mira intervened. She pulled the boys
roughly apart. There
was a tearing sound of cloth but
It was lost in the heavy
panting and angry grumbling and no
one paid attention to the 2
small sleeve hanging loosely off a
shoulder,
“Make a circle, make a circle!” she shou
ted, firmly pulling
and pushing till a kind of vague circl
e was formed. “Now
clap!” she roared and, clapping,
they all chanted in melan
choly unison: “Dip, dip, dip—my
blue ship—” and every
now and then one or the other saw
he was safe by the way his
hands fell at the crucial moment—
palm on palm, or back of
hand on palm—and dropped out of
the circle with a yell and a
jump of relief and jubilation.
Raghu was It. He started to protest,
to cry “You cheated—
Mira cheated—Anu cheated—”
but it was too late, the
others had all already streaked
away. There was no one to
hear when he called out, “Only
in the veranda—the porch—
Ma said—Ma said to stay in the porc
h!” No one had stopped
to listen, all he saw were their brow
n legs flashing through the
dusty shrubs, scrambling up brick
walls. leaping over corn-
post heaps and hedges. and then the porch stood empty in the
purple shade of the bougainvillea and the garden was as
emptY as before; even the limp squirrels had whisked away.
leaving everything gleaming. brassy and bare.
Only small Manu suddenly reappeared, as if he had
dropped out of an invisible cloud or from a bird’s claws, and
stood for a moment in the center of the yellow lawn, chewing
his finger and near to tears as he heard Raghu shouting, with
his head pressed against the veranda wall, “Eighty-three.
eighty-five. eighty-nine, ninety.. “and then made off In a
panic. half of him wanting to fly north, the other half counsel
ing south. Raghu turned Just in time to see the flash of his
white shorts and the uncertain skittering of his red sandals,
and charged after him with such a bloodcurdling yell that
Manu stumbled over the hosepipe. fell into its rubber coils
and lay there weeping. “I won’t be It—you have to find them
all—all—All!”
• ‘I know I have to, Idiot,” Raghu said, superciliously
kicking him with his toe. “You’re dead,” he said with satisfac
tion. licking the beads of perspiration off his upper lip, and
then stalked off in search of worthier prey, whistling spirited
ly so that the hiders should hear and tremble.
.
a
Ravi heard the whistling and picked his nose In a panic,
trying to find comfort by burrowing the finger deep—deep
into that soft tunnel. He felt himself too exposed, sitting on an
upturned flower pot behind the garage. Where could he
burrow? He could run around the garage If he heard Raghu
come—around and around and around—but he hadn
’t
FThuch faith in his short legs when matched against Raghu’s
long, hefty, hairy footballer legs.
3 Ravi had a frightening
1impse of them as Raghu combed the hedge of crotons
and
hibiscus,’ trampling delicate ferns underfoot as he did
so.
Ravi looked about him desperately, swallowing a small ball
of
snot In his fear.
The garage was locked with a great heavy lock to whic
h
the driver had the key in his room, hanging from a nail
on the
S. footbaIisc leg.: The powerful legs of a soccer player.
4. croteus (krOt’ nz aad hibiscus (hi bis’ ks): Types of
tropical
shrubs.
Games at TwilIght
5
wall under his work-shirt Ravl had peeped in and seen him
tin sprawling on his string-cot in his vest and striped under
pants. the hair on his chest and the hair In his nose shaking
with the vibrations of his phlegm-obstructed snores. Ravi had
wished he were tall enough. big enough to reach the key on
the nail, but it was impossible, beyond his reach for years to
conic. He had sidled away and sat dejectedly on the flower pot.
size.
That at least was cut to his
the garage was another shed with a big green
next
—
door. Also locked. No one even knew who had the key to the
lock. That shed wasnt opened more than once a year when
Ma turned out all the old broken bits of furniture and rolls of
matting and leaking buckets, and the white ant hills were
4 broken and swept away and Flit sprayed into the spider webs
S and rat holes so that the whole operation was like the looting
of a poor ruined and conquered city. The green leaves of the
door sagged. They were nearly off their rusty hinges. The
binges were large and made a small gap between the door and
the walls—only just large enough for rats, dogs, and, possi
bly, Ravl to slip through.
1
Ravi had never cared to enter such a dark and depressing
mortuary of defunct household goods seething with such
5
unspeakable and alarming animal life but, as Raghu’s whis
tling grew angrier and sharper and his crashing and storming
in the hedge wilder, Ravi suddenly slipped
the flower pot
and through the crack and was gone. He chuckled aloud with
astonishment at his own temerity so that Raghu came out of
the hedge, stood silent with his hands on his hips, listening,
and finally shouted “1 heard you! I’m coming! Got you—” and
came charging round the garage only to find the upturned
flower pot, the yellow dust, the crawling of white ants in a
Emud-h111 against the closed shed door—nothing. Snarling, he
S bent to pick up a stick and went off, whacking it against the
and shed walls as if to beat out his prey.
But
to
own
1’
h4p pdw
øt.
4
1 4
1a4e
k
4
h.
—
off
garage
Ray! shook, then shivered with delight, with self
congratulation. Also with fear. It was dark, spooky In the
shed. It had a muffled smell, as of graves. Ravi had once got
S. mortuary (môt-’ c5 er ) TI.: A place where dead bodies are
kept
before being buried or cremated.
Games at TwIlight
7
Connct
—
locked Into the linen cupboard and sat there
weeping for half
an hour before he was rescued. But at least
that had been a
familiar place. and even smelled pleasantly
of starch, laundry
and, reassuringly, of his mother,
But the shed smelled of rats,
ant hills, dust and spider webs. Also of less
definable, less
recognizable horrors. And It was dark. Exce
pt for the white
hot cracks along the door, there was no light
. The roof was
very low. Although Ravi was smal
l, he felt as if he could reach
up and touch it with his finger tips. But he
didn’t stretch. He
hunched himself into a ball so as not to bum
p into anything,
touch or feel anything. What might there not
be to touch him
and feel him as he stood there, trying to
see in the dark?
Something cold, or slimy—like a snake. Snakest
He leapt up
as Raghu whacked the wall with his stick
—then, 1
quickly
realizing what it was, felt almost relieved to
hear Raghu, hear 7
his stick. It made him feel protected.
But Raghu soon moved away. There wasn’t
a sound once
his footsteps had gone around the garage
and disappeared.
Ravi stood frozen inside the shed. Then he
shivered all over.
Something had tickled the back of his neck
. It took him a
while to pick up the courage to lift his hand
and explore. It
was an insect—perhaps a spider—expl
oring him. He
squashed it and wondered how many more
creatures were
watching him, waiting to reach out and
touch him, the
stranger.
There was nothing now. After standing in that
position—
his hand still on his neck, feeling the wet
splodge of the
squashed spider gradually dry—for minutes,
hours, his legs
began to tremble with the effort, the inact
ion. By now he could
see enough in the dark to make out the large
solid shapes of
old wardrobes, broken buckets and bedsteads
piled on top of
each other around him. He recognized
an old bathtub—
patches of enamel glimmered at him and at
last he lowered
himself onto its edge.
He contemplated slipping out of the shed and
into the fray.
He wondered if it would not be better to be captu
red by Raghu
and be returned to the milling crowd as long
as he could be in
the sun, the light, the free spaces of the
garden and the
familiarity of his brothers, sisters and cous
ins. It would be
evening soon. Their games would beco
me legitimate. The
parents would sit out on the lawn on cane
basket chairs and
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Short Stories
watch them as they tore around the garden or gathered in
knots to share a loot of mulberries or black, teeth-splitting
Jamun from the garden trees. The gardener would fix the
6
hosepipe to the water tap and water would fall lavishly
through the air to the ground. soaking the dry yellow grass
and the red gravel and arousing the sweet, the Intoxicating
scent of water on dry earth—that loveliest scent in the world.
pavI sniffed for a whiff of it. He half-rose from the bathtub,
then heard the despairing scream of one of the girls as Raghu
bore down upon her. There was the sound of a crash, and of
rolling about in the bushes, the shrubs, then screams and
fccusing sobs of, “I touched the den—” You did not—” “I
did—’ ‘You liar, you did not” and then a fading away and
again.
Ravi sat back on the harsh edge of the tub, deciding to
hold out a bit longer. What fun if they were all found and
caught—he alone left unconquered! He had never known
that sensation. Nothing more wonderful had ever happened to
him than being taken out by an uncle and bought a whole slab
of chocolate all to himself, or being flung into the soda-man’s
pony cart and driven up to the gate by the friendly driver with
the red beard and pointed ears. To defeat Raghu—that
hirsute. hoarse-voiced football champion—and to be
7
the
winner in a circle of older, bigger, luckier childre
n—that
would be thrilling beyond imagination. He hugged his
knees
together and smiled to himself almost shyly at the thou
ght of
so much victory, such 8
laurels.
81
Lsu1
There he sat smiling, knocking his heels again
st the
bathtub, now and then getting up and going to the
door to put
his ear to the broad crack and listening for soun
ds of the
game. the pursuer and the pursued, and then retur
ning to his
seat with the dogged determination of the true
wln.’ier, a
breaker of records, a champion.
•. jRua (J’ min’) rl.: A tart fruit with
reddishpurple pulp and
Juice.
7. htrsut (htir’ st’) adj.: Hairy.
I. IureI* (lOr’ lz) n. Foliage from the laure
l tree, worn in a crown
as a symbol of victory in a contest.
Games at Twilight
9
VIuslizL
It grew darker in the shed as the light at the door grew
softer, fuzzier, turned to a kind of crumbling yellow pollen
that turned to yellow fur, blue fur, gray fur. Evening. Twilight.
The sound of water gushing. falling. The scent of earth
receiving water, slaking its thirst in great gulps and releasing
that green scent of freshness, coolness. Through the crack
Ravi saw the long purple shadows of the shed and the garage
lying still across the yard. Beyond that, the white walls of the
house. The bougainvillea had lost its lividity, hung in dark
bundles that quaked and twittered and seethed with masses
of homing sparrows. The lawn was shut off from his view.
Could he hear the children’s voices? It seemed to him that he
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could. It seemed to him that he could hear them chanting,
singing, laughing. But what about the game? What had
happened? Could It be over? How could It when he was still
not found?
It then occurred to him that he could have slipped out long
ago. dashed across the yard to the veranda and touched the
“den.” It was necessary to do that to win. He had forgotten.
He had only remembered the part of hiding and trying to elude
the seeker. He had done that so successfully, his success had
occupied him so wholly that he had quite forgotten that
success had to be clinched by that final dash to victory and
the ringing cry of “Den!”
With a whimper he burst through the crack, fell on his
knees, got up and stumbled on stiff, benumbed legs across the
shadowy yard, crying heartily by the time he reached the
veranda so that when he flung himself at the white pillar and
bawled, “Den! Den! Den!” his voice broke with rage and pity
at the disgrace of It all and he felt himself flooded with tears
and misery.
Out on the lawn, the children stopped chanting. They all
turned to stare at him in amazement. Their faces were pale
and triangular In the dusk. The trees and bushes around
9 spilling long shadows
them stood inky and sepulchral,
stared,
wondering at his reappearance. his
across them. They
passion, his wild animal howling. Their mother rose from her
basket chair and came toward him, worried, annoyed, saying,
9.
10
Short 5tories
epulchral (s put’ krl) adj. Dtsmal: gloomy.
I
Vlsuallz•:
ca
“Stop it, stop It, Ravi. Don’t be a baby. Have you hurt
yourself?” Seeing him attended to, the children went back to
clasping their hands and chanting “The grass is green, the
rose is red
But Ravi would not let them. He tore himself out of his
mother’s grasp and pounded across the lawn into their midst,
charging at them with his head lowered so that they scattered
in surprise. “1 won, I won, I won,” he bawled, shaking his
head so that the big tears flew. “Raghu didn’t find me. I won, I
won—”
it took them a minute to grasp what he was saying, even
who he was. They had quite forgotten him. Raghu had found
all the others long ago. There had been a fight about who was
to be It next. It had been so fierce that their mother had
emerged from her bath and made them change to another
game. Then they had played another and another. Broken
mulberries from the tree and eaten them. Helped the driver
wash the car when their father returned from work. Helped
the gardener water the beds till he roared at them and swore
he would complain to their parents. The parents had come
out, taken up their positions on the cane chairs. They had
begun to play again, sing and chant. All this time no one had
remembered Ravi. Having disappeared from the scene, he had
disappeared from their minds. Clean.
“Don’t be a fool,” Raghu said roughly. pushing him aside,
and even Mira said, ‘Stop howling, Ravi. If you want to play.
you can stand at the end of the line,” and she put him there
very firmly.
The game proceeded. Two pairs of arms reached up and
met in an arc. The children trooped under it again and again
in a lugubrious° circle, ducking their heads and intoning
‘The grass is green,
The rose is red:
Remember me
When I am dead, dead, dead, dead.
10. lugubrious (b g5’ br s) adj. Sad and mournful, espeUally in
an exaggerated way
12
Short Stories
twilight, and the
And the arc of thin arms trembled in the
tramped to that
feet
their
and
were bowed so sadly.
so helplessly, that Ravi
melanchob’ refrain so mournfully,
them, he would not be
t,uId not bear it. He would not follow
wanted victory and
had
He
included in this funeral game.
funeraL But he had been forgotten. left out
tump0t a
The ignominy” of being
and he would not join them now.
felt his heart go heavy
He
it?
face
forgotten—how could he
He lay down full length on
and ache inside him unbearably.
into It. no longer crying.
the damp grass. crushing his face
insignificance.
his
of
sense
silenced by a terrible
I
—-
IL tgs.7 (W n mis’
ej
it.:
Shame; dishonor.
), born of an Indian father and a German
Anita Di (1937mother, has been called one of India’s most gifted writers. She was
educated In Delhi, and her work has won widespread critical ac
claim. Of Desal’s talent, the critic Victoria Glendinning said, ‘She
has the gift of opening up a closed world and making it clearly via
Ible and, by the end, familiar Desal lives In Bombay with her hus
band and their four children,
Qames at Twilight
13
To
THE SELE(TIoN
Yruir Response
1 Put yourself in Raves place. What would you
have done after Raghu left the shed area? Ex
plain your answer.
2. If you could talk to Ravi, what would you tell
him about games?
Recallinq
3, Where does Ravi hide?
4. What causes Ravi to lose the game even
though he wasn’t caught?
‘nierpreting
5. How does Ravi feel about Raghu?
6. What do we know about Ravi’s personality
based on the choices he makes in the story?
7. What bitter lesson does Ravi learn at the end
of the story?
!pplyinq
8. Do you think that Ravi’s “sense of insignifi
cance” at the end of the story will remain
strong? Explain.
LITERATURE
Understanding Motivation
Motivation is the cause of a character’s ac
tions. Motives can arise from events involving the
character, from the character’s emotional needs,
or from a combination of both. For example, Ravi
is afraid of the shed. Yet he is motivated to over
come his fear because he wants to win the game
and because he is afraid of Raghu.
1. What motivates Ravi to refuse to join the chil
dren in their evening game?
2. What motivates the children to play other
games while Ravi is still hiding?
Rcnqntzrnq Re’evant Details
Relevant details give information that is cen
tral to the situation, plot, or characters. Paying at14
Short Stories
tention to relevant details can give you insight into
a character’s motives or a character’s effect on
others. For instance, when Raghu finds Manu,
Raghu kicks him and whistles “so that the hiders
should hear and tremble.” Later, Desai describes
Raghu as a football champion. These details im
ply that Raghu frightens the other children.
1. Which details of the shed contribute to your un
derstanding of Ravi’s determination to avoid
Raghu?
2. lRavi feels protected when he hears Raghu
pound on the shed with his stick. How does
this detail relate to Ravi’s decision to stay in
the shed?
3. When Raghu catches one of the girls, she in
sists that she “touched the den.” How does this
detail relate to the outcome of the story?
I
AND WRITING
Writing About Motivation
Reading about characters in a story is in
some ways like being with people in real life. Now
that you have spent some time with Ravi, perhaps
you can guess how the events of the story will
motivate him in the future. Imagine the next few
days, months, or years of his life, and think of how
Ravi’s behavior might be influenced by his expe
rience in the shed. Then predict the effect of this
experience on his behavior, supporting your pre
diction with evidence from the story.
IL
41
OPTIoN
Art. Take another look at the pictures on pages
6 and 11. They were not painted to illustrate
“Games at Twilight,” yet they depict scenes simi
lar to the ones depicted in the story. How do these
paintings relate to the story? Try to find other pho
tographs or works of fine art that remind you of
the story. You might look in a museum or in books
of art in the library. If possible, bring to class the
pictures you have found and show them to your
classmates.
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English 10 (Enriched)
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Page 1 of 1
Unit 1 Lesson 2: The Monkeys Paw
Objectives:
•
consciously use arid evaluate a wide variety of strategies before, during, and after
reading,
viewing, and listening, to increase their comprehension and recall
• demonstrate an understanding of the main ideas, events, or themes of a variety
of
increasingly complex novels, dramas, stories, poetry, other print material,
and electronic
media
• make connections between the ideas arid information presented in literary and
mass media
works and their own experiences
Introduction:
Lesson Components:
•
Do Notes on the author and suspense and foreshadowing on page 30.
•
Do Focus activity on page 30.
•
Review the Vocabulary on page 30.
• Read the story, The Monkeys Pow on pages 31-40 using the active reading
strategies.
Consult the vocabulary at the bottom of the page as needed.
•
Complete questions 1, 2 6-9 in Responding to the Selection on page 41.
• Complete Analyzing Literature on page 41,
•
Complete Critical Thinking and Reading on page 41.
DE FOR READING
The Monkey’s Paw
Su%pense and Foreshadowing
Suspense is the quality of the story that keeps you reading to
find out what will happen. Authors often use foreshadowing to help
build suspense. Foreshadowing refers to the use of hints about what
is going to happen. In “The Monkey’s Paw,” the hints are clear enough
to let you know something frightening is in store but ambiguous
enough to keep you guessing.
W
Jacobs
(1863—1943) was born in Lon
don, England, and lived as a
child in a house on a Thames
River dock. There, he had a
chance to hear strange tales
of foreign lands told by the
passing seafarers. As an
adult, Jacobs made use of this
experience by writing strange
tales of his own. Many of his
stories artfully combine every
day life with elements of the
supernatural. “The Monkey’s
PawA is one such tale. First
published in 1902, it was
made into a successful play a
year later.
30
Short Stories
Focus
From childhood into adulthood, everyone has wishes. People are
usually happy when their wishes come true. Some wishes, however,
don’t turn out as planned. Think of wishes you’ve had in the past.
When a wish came true, was the result what you had hoped for? If
a wish didn’t come true, was it for the best in the long run? Copy
the following chart in your journal; then list a few of your wishes and
their positive and negative outcomes.
NEGATIVE OUTCOME
WISH
POSITIVE OUTCOME
Vocabulary
Knowing the following words will help you as you read “The Mon
key’s Paw.”
prnsaic (pro zã’ 1k) adj.: Com
‘y (dout’ ê) ad,.: Brave;
monplace; ordinary (p. 35)
valiant (p. 32)
rish’ s)
avaricious (av’
n.:
Any
s”in (tal’ is man)
riches
adj.: Greedy for
(p. 35)
thing believed to have magical
bibulous (bib’ yö las) adj.:
power (p. 34)
Given to drinking alcoholic bev
-,ar (an’ ti m kas’
erages (p. 35)
r) n.: A small cover on the
‘ulade (fyöã s lad’) fl
arms or back of a chair or sofa
Something that is like the rapid
to prevent soiling (p. 34)
of many firearms (p. 40)
firing
t (kr d’ l té) n.: A
tendency to believe too readily
(p. 34)
The Monkey’s Paw
W. W. Jacobs
I
houses on the road are let, they think it
doesn’t matter.”
“Never mind, dear,” said his wife, sooth
ingly: “perhaps you’ll win the next one.”
Mr. White looked up sharply, just in time
to intercept a knowing glance between
mother and son. The words died away on his
ups, and he hid a guilty grin in his thin gray
—
Without, the night was cold and wet, but
Laburnam Villa the
in the small parlor of
fire burned
blinds were drawn and the
chess, the
at
were
son
and
brightly. Father
the game
about
former, who possessed ideas
king
involving radical changes, putting his
perils that
into such sharp and unnecessary
whitethe
from
nt
comme
it even provoked
fire.
the
by
y
haired old lady knitting placidl
Hark at the wind,” said Mr. White.
who. having seen a fatal mistake after It was
too late, was amiably desirous of preventing
his son from seeing it.
“I’m listening,” said the latter, grimly
surveying the board as he stretched out his
hand. ‘Check.’°
“1 should hardly think that he’d come
tonight.” said his father, with his hand
poised over the board.
“Mate,” replied the son.
2
“That’s the worst of living so far out,”
bawled Mr. White, with sudden and un
looked-for violence; “of all the beastly.
slushy, out-of-the-way places to live in, this
is the worst. Pathway’s a bog. and the road’s
a torrent. I don’t know what people are
thinking about. I suppose because only two
1. check chek( n .A move in chess that threatens to
capture the king.
2, ati (mat) ri. Checkmate, a chess move in which
the ktng is captured and the game is over.
beard,
“There he Is,” said Herbert White, as
the gate banged to loudly and heavy foot
steps came toward the door.
The old man rose with hospitable haste,
and opening the door, was heard condoling
with the new arrival. The new arrival also
condoled with himself, so that Mrs. White
said, “Tut, tut!” and coughed gently as her
husband entered the room, followed by a
tall, burly man, beady of eye and rubicund
visage.
of 3
“Sergeant Major Morris.” he said, intro
ducing him.
The sergeant major shook hands, and
taking the proffered seat by the fire,
watched contentedly while his host got out
tumblers and stood a small copper kettle on
the fire.
At the third glass his eyes got brighter,
and he began to talk, the little family circle
regarding with eager Interest this visitor
from distant parts, as he squared his broad
shoulders In the chair and spoke of wild
S. rubicuud (r’ bi kund’) of visage (viz’ Ij): Having
a red complexion.
The Monkey’s Paw
.31
2
I
scenes and doughty deeds: of wars and
plagues and strange peoples.
• ‘Twenty-one years of it.” said Mr.
White, nodding at his wife and son. When
he went away he was a slip of a youth in the
warehouse. Now look at him.’
‘He don’t look to have taken much
harm.” said Mrs. White, politely.
‘I’d like to go to India myself.” said the
old man, “just to look round a bit, you
know.”
Better where you are,” said the ser
geant major. shaking his head. He put down
the empty glass, and sighing softly, shook it
again.
‘I should like to see those old temples
and fakirs and jugglers,” said the old man.
‘What was that you started telling me the
other day about a monkey’s paw or some
thing, Morris?”
Nothing,” said the soldier, hastily.
• Leastways nothing worth hearing.”
“Monkey’s paw?” said Mrs. White, curlously.
‘Well, it’s Just a bit of what you might
call magic, perhaps,” said the sergeant
major. olmandedly.
His three listeners leaned forward eager
ly. The visitor absent-mindedly put his
empty glass to his lips and then set it down
again. His host filled it for him.
“To look at,” said the sergeant major,
fumbling In his pocket, “it’s Just an ordinary
little paw, dried to a mummy.”
He took something out of his pocket and
proffered It. Mrs. White drew back with a
grimace, but her son. taking it, examined it
curiously.
“And what is there special about it?”
inquired Mr. White as he took it from his
son, and having examined it, placed it upon
the table.
“It had a spell put on it by an old fakir.”
said the sergeant major, “a very holy man.
.32
Short Stories
He wanted to show that fate ruled people’s
lives, and that those who interfered with it
did so to their sorrow. He put a spell on it so
1,
that three separate men could each have
three wishes from it.”
His manner was so impressive that his
hearers were conscious that their light
laughter jarred somewhat.
“Well, why don’t you have three, sir?”
said Herbert White, cleverly.
The soldier regarded him in the way that
middle age is wont to regard presumptuous
youth. “1 have,” he said, quietly, and his
blotchy face whitened,
“And did you really have the three wish
es granted?” asked Mrs. White.
‘I did,” said the sergeant major, and his
glass tapped against his strong teeth.
“And has anybody else wished?” per
sisted the old lady.
“The first man had his three wishes,
yes,” was the reply: “I don’t know what the
first two were, but the third was for death.
That’s how I got the paw.”
His tones were so grave that a hush fell
upon the group.
“If you’ve had your three wishes, it’s no
good to you now, then, Morris,” said the old
man at last. “What do you keep it for?”
The soldier shook his head. “Fancy. I sup
pose.” he said, slowly. “I did have some idea
of selling it, but I don’t think I will. It has
caused enough mischief already, Besides,
people won’t buy. They think it’s a fairy tale,
some of them, and those who do think any
thing of it want to tr’ it first and pay me afterward.”
‘If you could have another three wishes,”
said the old man. eveing him keenly, ‘would
you have them’?”
‘1 don’t know, said the other. “I dont
6
know.’
He took the paw. and dangiing it be
tween his forefinger and thumb, suddenly
threw It upon the fire. White, with a slight
cry. stooped down and snatched it off.
“Better let It burn,” said the soldier.
solemnly.
If you don’t want it, Morris,” said the
other, “give it to me.”
“I won’t.” said his friend doggedly. “I
threw It on the fire. If you keep It, don’t
blame me for what happens. Pitch it on the
fire again, like a sensible man.”
The other shook his head and examined
-
his new possession closely. How do you do
It?” he Inquired.
• Hold It up In your right hand and wish
aloud.” said the sergeant major. “but I warn
you of the consequences.”
4 said
• ‘Sounds like the Arabian Nights.”
Mrs. White, as she rose and began to set the
supper. “Don’t you think you might wish for
four pairs of hands for me?”
Her husband drew the talisman from
pocket, and then all three burst Into laugh
ter as the sergeant major, with a look of
alarm on his face, caught him by the arm•
“If you must wish,” he said, gruffly, “wish
for something sensible.”
Mr. White dropped It back in his pocket,
and placing chairs, motioned his friend to
the table. In the business of supper the
talisman was partly forgotten, and after
ward the three sat listening In an enthralled
fashion to a second installment of the sol
dier’s adventures In India.
“If the tale about the monkey’s paw is
not more truthful than those he has been
telling us,” said Herbert, as the door closed
behind their guest. just in time for him to
catch the last train, “we shan’t make much
out of It.”
• ‘Did you give him anything for it, Fa
ther?” inquired Mrs. White, regarding her
husband closely.
“A trifle,” said he, coloring slightly. “He
didn’t want it, but I made him take it, And
he pressed me again to throw It away,”
“Likely,” said Herbert, with pretended
horror, “Why, we’re going to be rich, and
famous and happy. Wish to be an emperor,
Father, to begin with; then you can’t be
bossed around.”
4. ArabIan NIghts: A story collectIon from the
ancIent Near East.
34
Short Stories
He darted round the table, pursued by
the maligned Mrs. White armed with an
antimacassar.
Mr. White took the paw from his pocket
and eyed It dubiously. “I don’t know what to
wish for, and that’s a fact,” he said, slowly,
‘It seems to me I’ve got all I want.”
“If you only cleared the house, you’d be
quite happy, wouldn’t you?” said Herbert,
with his hand on his shoulder, “Well, wish
for two hundred pounds,
5 then; that’lI just
dolt.”
His father, smiling shamefacedly at his
own credulity, held up the talisman, as his
son, with a solemn face somewhat marred
by a wink at his mother, sat down at the
piano and struck a few impressive chords.
“I wish for two hundred pounds,” said
the old man distinctly.
A fine crash from the piano greeted the
words, interrupted by a shuddering cry from
the old man. His wife and son ran toward
him.
“It moved,” he cried, with a glance of
disgust at the object as It lay on the floor.
“As I wished It twisted In my hand like a
snake.”
“Well, I don’t see the money,” said his
son as he picked It up and placed it on the
table, “and I bet I never shall.”
“It must have been your fancy, Father,”
said his wife, regarding him anxiously.
He shook his head, “Never mind,
though; there’s no harm done, but it gave
me a shock all the same.”
They sat down by the fire again while the
two men finished their pipes. Outside, the
wind was higher than ever, and the old man
started nervously at the sound of a door
banging upstairs. A silence unusual and
5. pounds ri. EngHsh money.
IQ
j
I
essing settled upon all three, which
rose to retire for
jiated until the old couple
the nig1.
cash tied up in a
“i expect you’ll find the
bed,” said
your
of
middle
big bag in the
“and
night,
Herbert. as he bade them good
nething horrible squatting up on top of
you as you pocket
the wardrobe watching
yaw’ ill-gotten gains.”
Herbert sat alone in the darkness, gaz’
fire and seeing faces in it
“ig at the dying
6
so simian
The last face was so horrible and
It got so
that he gazed at it In amazement.
he felt
laugh,
uneasy
little
a
with
vivid that,
little
a
containing
on the table for a glass
water to throw over it. His hand grasped the
monkey’s paw. and with a little shiver he
wiped his hand on his coat and went up
to bed.
H
in the brightness of the wintry sun next
morning as it streamed over the breakfast
table Herbert laughed at his fears. There
was an air of prosaic wholesomeness about
the room which it had lacked on the previ
ous night. and the dirty. shriveled little paw
was pitched on the sideboard with a care
lessness which betokened no great belief in
Its virtues.
“I suppose all old soldiers are the same,”
said Mrs. White. “The idea of our listening
to such nonsense! How could wishes be
granted in these days? And if they could.
how could two hundred pounds hurt you,
Father?”
“Might drop on his head from the sky.”
said the frivolous Herbert.
[—
S.
iI1an sirn
n) adJ. Monkeylike.
“Morris said the things happened so
naturally.” said his father. “that you might
if you so wished attribute it to coincidence.”
“Well, don’t break into the money before
I come back.” said Herbert, as he rose from
the table. “I’m afraid it’ll turn you Into a
mean, avaricious man, and we shall have to
disown you.”
His mother laughed. and following him
to the door, watched him down the road,
and, returning to the breakfast table, was
very happy at the expense of her husband’s
credulity. All of which did not prevent her
from scurrying to the door at the postman’s
knock, nor prevent her from referring some
what shortly to retired sergeant majors of
bibulous habits when she found that the
post brought a tailor’s bill.
“Herbert will have some more of his
funny remarks, I expect, when he comes
home,” she said, as they sat at dinner.
“I dare say.” said Mr. White, “but for all
that, the thing moved In my hand: that I’ll
swear to.”
“You thought it did,” said the old lady
soothingly.
“1 say it did,” replied the other, “There
was no thought about it; I had just—What’s
the matter?”
His wife made no reply. She was watch’
ing the mysterious movements of a man
outside, who, peering in an undecided lash
ion at the house, appeared to be trying to
make up his mind to enter. In mental con
nection with the two hundred pounds, she
noticed that the stranger was well dressed,
13
and wore a silk hat of glossy newness. Three
times he paused at the gate, and then
walked on again. The fourth time he stood
with his hand upon It, and then with sud
den resolution flung it open and walked up
the path. Mrs. White at the same moment
placed her hands behind her, and hurriedly
The Monkey ‘.s Paw
35
unfastening the strings of her apron. put
that useful article of apparel beneath the
cushion of her chair.
She brought the stranger, who seemed
ill at ease. into the room. He gazed at her
furtively, and listened in a preoccupied fash
ion as the old lady apologized for the ippear
ance of the room, and her husband’s coat, a
garment which he usually reserved for the
garden. She then waited patiently for him to
broach his business, but he was at first
strangely silent.
‘I—was asked to call,” he said at last.
and stooped and picked a piece of cotton
from his trousers. “I come from ‘Maw and
Meggins.”
The old lady started. “Is anything the
matter’?” she asked, breathlessly. “Has any
thing happened to Herbert? What is it?
What is it?”
Her husband Interposed. “There, there,
mother,” he said, hastily. “Sit down, and
don’t jump to conclusions. You’ve not
brought bad news, I’m sure, sir,” and he
eyed the other wistfully.
“I’m sorry—” began the visitor.
‘Is he hurt?” demanded the mother.
wildly.
The visitor bowed in assent. “Badly
hurt.” he said quietly, “but he is not in any
pain.”
“Oh, thank God!” said the old woman,
clasping her hands. “Thank God for that!
Thank—”
She broke off suddenly as the sinister
meaning of the assurance dawned upon her
and she saw the awful confirmation of her
fears in the other’s averted face. She caught
her breath, and turning to her husband, laid
her trembling old hand upon his. There was
a long silence.
“He was caught in the machinery,” said
the visitor at length, in a low voice.
36
Short Stories
‘Caught in the machinery,” repeated
Mr. White, in a dazed fashion, “yes”
lie sat staring blankly out at the win
dow, and taking his wife’s hand between his
own, pressed it as he had been wont to do in
their old courting days nearly forty years
before.
“He was the only one left to us,” he said,
turning gently to the visitor. “It Is hard.”
The other coughed, and, rising, walked
slowly to the window. “The firm wished me
to convey their sincere sympathy with you
in your great loss,” he said, without looking
round. “I beg that you will understand I am
only their servant and merely obeying or
ders.”
There was no reply: the old woman’s
face was white, her eyes staring, and her
breath inaudible: on the husband’s face was
a look such as his friend the sergeant might
have carried into his first action.
“I was to say that Maw and Meggins
disclaim all responsibility,” continued the
other. “They admit no liability at all, but in
consideration of your son’s services they
wish to present you with a certain sum as
compensation.”
Mr. White dropped his wife’s hand, and
rising to his feet, gazed with a look of horror
at his visitor. His dry lips shaped the words,
“How much?”
“Two hundred pounds,” was the an
swer.
Unconscious of his wife’s shriek, the old
man smiled faintly, put out his hands like a
sightless man, and dropped, a senseless
heap, to the floor.
III
In the huge new cemetery, some two
miles distant, the old people buried their
dead. and came back to a house steeped In
shadow and silence. It was all over so quick
ly that at first they could hardly realize it,
and remained in a state of expectation as
though of something else to happen
—something else which was to lighten this
load, too heavy for old hearts to bear.
But the days passed, and expectation
gave place to resignation—the hopeless res
Ignation of the old, sometimes miscalled
t’uURAL_CONNECTION’
Deternilnlng all events, The belief in
fate as determining all events In heaven and
on earth was adopted by later Western Eu
ropean societies. It can be seen most dra
matically in Elizabethan England through
the plays of William Shakespeare and his
contemporaries. The three Fates make a no
table appearance in Shakespeare’s tragedy
Macbeth. Here, however, they are depicted
as three witches who accurately prophesy
the rise and fall of the play’s hero, the Scot
tish lord Macbeth.
l’ri te in
‘.nth1 inlklore
ii t ! wlr is a message in l’he Monkeys
paw” it is that people should not meddle
with late. lhe concept of fate, a power that
determi11t the outcome of evetits before
they occur. is one that dates hack to the ear
liest tyviliiatiofls.
As seen by Ancient Greeks. The ancient
Greeks ‘t so far as to personify fate in
three goddesses called the Fates. These
daughters of Nyx. the god of night, were of
ten rt.presefltc’cl as three old women. Clotho
spun the thread of life: Lachesis measured
it out; and Atropos cut the thread, ending
life. The Fates decisions were unalterable.
Dame Fortuna. The ancient Romans
persorulled fate as one woman. Her name
was L’oiiiina, and you can readily see the
link between this name and our own word
fortiute. lomans consulted this goddess
about t he future, and in their art they
showed her with a horn of plenty because
she was t he giver of abundance. They also
show-LI lwr with a rudder. symbolizing her
control of fate.
In he Middle Ages. this goddess was of
ten sh ‘wit i-nntrouling a wheel or globe of for
tune. ii te turning of this sphere indicated
that i;V nrnme’ .vas subject to mcmv ups
and i’.VtiS.
The magical number three. It is no ac
cident that the monkey’s paw grants three
wishes to three people. The very number
three is considered magical and filled with
fateful meaning in many cultures. In the fa
bled Eastern storybook The Thousand and
One Nights, the magic genie in Aladdin’s
lamp also grants three wishes. Again, fate
sees to it that the wishes of the unwise and
evil lead only to their downfall.
Why do people believe in fate? As Amer
icans, we like to think we are free to choose
our own destinies. However, the Idea of fate
for many societies has helped people to ac
cept lifes good and bad. Many have found
comfort in the face of disaster and death by
believing that It was “meant to be.”
Exploring and Sharing
Research examples of the use of the num
ber three in fairy tales and stories from other
countries. Share your findings with the class.
The Monkeys Paw
37
a
apathy. Sometimes they hardly exchanged
to
talk
nothing
word, for now they had
weari
about, and theIr days were long to
ness.
It was about a week after that the old
man, waking suddenly In the night.
stretched out his hand and found himself
alone. The room was in darkness, and the
sound of subdued weeping came from the
window. He raised himself In bed and lis
tened.
Come back,” he said, tenderly. You
will be cold.”
“it is colder for my son,” said the old
woman, and wept afresh.
The sound of her sobs died away on his
ears. The bed was warm, and his eyes heavy
with sleep. He dozed fitfully, and then slept
until a sudden wild cry from his wife awoke
him with a start.
“The paw!” she cried wildly. “The mon
key’s paw?”
He started up in alarm. “Where? Where
is it? What’s the matter?”
She came stumbling across the room
toward him. “I want It,” she said quietly.
“You’ve not destroyed It?”
“It’s in the parlor, on the bracket,” he
replied, marveling. “Why?”
She cried and laughed together, and
bending over, kissed his cheek.
“I only just thought of it,” she said hys
terically. “Why didn’t I think of it before?
Why didn’t you think of it?”
“Think of what?” he questioned
“The other two wishes,” she replied rap
idly. “We’ve only had one.”
“Was not that enough?” he demanded,
fiercely.
“No,” she cried triumphantly; “we’ll
have one more. Go down and get it quickly,
and wish our boy alive again.”
The man sat up in bed and flung the
bedclothes from his quaking limbs. “You are
mad!” he cried, aghast.
38
Short Stories
“Get it,” she panted; “get it quickly, and
wish—Oh, my boy, my boy!”
Her husband struck a match and lit the
candle. “Get back to bed,” he said unsteadi
ly. ‘You don’t know what you are saying.”
“We had the first wish granted,” said
the old woman feverishly; “why not the
second?”
‘A coincidence,” stammered the old
man.
“Go and get it and wish.” cried his wife,
quivering with excitement.
The old man turned and regarded her,
and his voice shook. “He has been dead ten
days, and besides he—I would not tell you
else, but—I could only recognize him by his
clothing. If he was too terrible for you to see
then, how now?”
“Bring him back,” cried the old woman,
and dragged him toward the door. “Do you
think I fear the child I have nursed?”
He went down in the darkness, and felt
his way to the parlor, and then to the man
telpiece. The talisman was In its place, and
a horrible fear that the unspoken wish
might bring his mutilated son before him ere
he could escape from the room seized upon
him, and he caught his breath as he found
that he had lost the direction of the door, His
brow cold with sweat, he felt his way round
the table, and groped along the wall until he
found himself in the small passage with the
unwholesome thing in his hand.
Even his wife’s face seemed changed as
he entered the room. It was white and ex
pectant, and to his fears seemed to have
an unnatural look upon it. He was afraid
of her.
“Wish!” she cried, in a strong voice.
“It is foolish and wicked,” he faltered.
“Wish!” repeated his wife.
He raised his hand. “I wish my son alive
again.”
The talisman fell to the floor, and he
regarded It fearfully. Then he sank trem
bling Into a chair as the old woman. with
burning eyes, walked to the window and
raised the blind.
He sat until he was chilled with the cold,
glancing occasionally at the figure of the old
woman peering through the window. The
candle-end, which had burned below the
rim of the china candlestick, was throwing
pulsating shadows on the ceiling and walls,
until, with a flicker larger than the rest, it
expired. The old man, with an unspeakable
sense of relief at the failure of the talisman,
crept back to his bed, and a minute or two
afterward the old woman came silently and
apathetically beside him.
Neither spoke. but lay silently listening
to the ticking of the clock. A stair creaked,
and a squeaky mouse scurried noisily
through the wall. The darkness was oppres
sive, and after lying for some time screwing
up his courage, he took the box of matches,
and striking one, went downstairs for a
candle.
At the foot of the stairs the match went
out, and he paused to strike another; and at
the same moment a knock, so quiet and
stealthy as to be scarcely audible, sounded
on the front door.
The matches fell from his hand and
spilled in the passage. He stood motionless,
his breath suspended until the knock was
repeated. Then he turned and fled swiftly
back to his room, and closed the door behind
him. A third knock sounded through the
house.
“What’s that?” cried the old woman,
starting up.
“A rat,” said the old man in shaking
tones— “a rat. It passed me on the stairs.”
His wife sat up in bed listening. A loud
knock resounded through the house.
“It’s Herbert!” she screamed. “It’s Her
bert!”
She ran to the door, but her husband
30
Short Stories
was before her, and catching her by the
arm, held her tightly.
‘What are you going to do?” he whis
pered hoarsely.
‘It’s my boy; its Herbert!” she cried,
struggling mechanically. “1 forgot it was two
miles away. What are you holding me for?
Let go. I must open the door.”
“Don’t let it in,” cried the old man,
trembling.
“You’re afraid of your own son,” she
cried, struggling. “Let me go. I’m coming,
Herbert; I’m coming.”
There was another knock, and another.
The old woman with a sudden wrench broke
free and ran from the room. Her husband
followed to the landing, and called after her
appealingly as she hurried downstairs. He
heard the chain rattle back and the bottom
bolt drawn slowly and stiffly from the sock
et. Then the old woman’s voice, strained
and panting.
“The bolt,” she cried, loudly. “Come
down. I can’t reach it.,’
But her husband was on his hands and
knees groping wildly on the floor in search
of the paw. If he could only find it before the
thing outside got in. A perfect fusillade of
knocks reverberated through the house, and
he heard the scraping of a chair as his wife
put it down in the passage against the door.
He heard the creaking of the bolt as It came
slowly back, and at the same moment he
found the monkey’s paw, and frantically
breathed his third and last wish,
The knocking ceased suddenly, al
though the echoes of it were still in the
house, He heard the chair drawn back and
the door opened. A cold wind rushed up the
staircase, and a long loud wail of disappointment and misery from his wife gave him
courage to run down to her side, and then to
the gate beyond The street lamp flickering
opposite shone on a quiet and deserted road,
I
pONDING TO tHE SELECTION
1
You will be cold.” (page 38)
2. “‘Come back
3 If he was too terrible for you to see then, how
now?” (page 38)
Your Respolise
end of the story?
Were ou surprised at the
Explain.
story affected you?
2. How has this
,
Recall’J
the sergeant major, what power
3. Accordir9 to
does the monkey’s paw have?
s first wish fulfilled?
4. In what way is Mr. White’
the story indicates that his
5. What evidence from
other two wishes were fulfilled?
Interprtg
of the cold, wet
8. How does the opening setting
set the mood?
fire
night and the warm, cozy
wishes were
7. The sergeant major states that the
granted so naturally that they seemed like co
incidence. Explain the events of the story as
coincidence.
of the
8. Explain whether you think the events
peo
ruled
“fate
that
point
fakir’s
story prove the
did
it
with
red
interfe
ple’s lives and those who
so to their sorrow:’
I
TIHNKLNG AND READING
Predicting Outcomes
As you read, you make predictions about
what will happen next. At what point in the story
did you first predict the following events, and what
was the basis for your prediction?
1. Herbert is killed in an accident.
2. Mrs. White asks her husband to wish her son
alive again.
I THINKING AND WRITING
Writing About Mood
Suppose that you were asked to make sug
gestions for a television show based on “The
Monkey’s Paw.” Write a memo to the director sug
gesting ways to create the proper mood. Suggest
a location, actors for each part, and music that
will create the mood. Give reasons for your
choices. Revise to be sure your ideas are clear.
Apply
9. Suppose someone gave you a talisman that
would grant three wishes. After reading this
story, what would you do?
LITERATURE
IJntterndig Suspense
Suspense is the quality of a story that keeps
you reading to find out what will happen. In “The
Monkey’s Paw,” the suspense arouses a feeling
of dread as you wonder what terrible results Mr.
White’s wishes will have. Jacobs uses foreshad
owing to build suspense.
Decide if each of these quotations from ‘The
Monkey’s Paw” is an example of foreshadowing,
If so, explain how it helps build suspense.
1.
If you keep it, don’t blame me for what hap
pens.” (page 33)
I LEAl OPTIONS
1. Cross-currIcular Connection. With two or
three classmates, listen to pieces of music that
might be used to introduce each part of the
story. You might be familiar with music that
could accompany the story, or you might want
to look for some pieces at your library. in your
group discuss which pieces best reflect the
mood of each part of the story. Play your se
lections for the class, explaining why your
group chose each piece.
2. WrIting. How did you expect “The Monkey’s
Paw” to end? Write an alternative ending to the
story. For example, suppose that Mr. or Mrs.
White used their last wish differently. What
would you have them wish for? Be sure to use
descriptive details in your ending.
The Monkey’s Paw
41
GU FOR READING
A Visit to Grandmother
Dircu and IndircU
William Melvin
Kelley
(1937—
) was born In New
York City. He was educated at
Harvard University and has
taught at several colleges.
Kelley’s stories focus on the
problems of indMduais, some
of them black. Kelley has said,
“I am riot a sociologist or a
politician or a spokesman.
Such people try to give
answers. A writer, I think,
should ask questions.” In “A
Visit to Grandmother,” Kelley
shows members of an African
American family seeking an
swers to their own questions.
68
Short Stories
(‘i
iracterilatiin
Characterization is the way a writer brings a character to life.
Sometimes a writer uses direct characterlzatlon—directly telling
you about the characters personality. More frequently a writer uses
Indirect characterization, revealing personality through a physical
description of the character: through the characters thoughts, words,
and actions; and through other characters’ comments. Kelley uses
indirect characterization in “A Visit to Grandmother.” for example,
when the grandmother tells a story that reveals a great deal about
herself and one of her children.
Focus
“A Visit to Grandmother” explores family relationships. Whether
a family has two members or ten, misunderstandings are common.
Disagreements among siblings or between a parent and a son or
daughter can result from misunderstandings, Tension can be healthy,
however, when it leads people to communicate and work out their
differences. Through a stressful confrontation, the characters in this
story gain a better understanding of one another. Think about close
friends or relatives. Write a journal entry about a confrontation you’ve
had with someone close to you. In your journal explore how the con
frontation clarified misunderstandings between you and that person.
Think about your experience as you read “A Visit to Grandmother.”
c:ibu1ry
o\
T
Knowing the following words will help you as you read ‘A Visit
to Grandmother.”
(lak’ rd) adj.:
(in dul’ jns) n.: Le
with
a varnish made
Coated
niency: forgiveness (p. 70)
from shellac or resin (p. 74)
(grim’ sirj) V.: Mak
ing a twisted or distorted facial
expression (p. 70)
English 10 (Enriched)
—
EOP
Page 1 of 1
Unit 1 Lesson 3: A Vlsit to /randmother
Objectives:
•
consciously use and evaluate a wide variety of strategies before, during, and after reading,
viewing, and listening, to increase their comprehension and recall
• demonstrate an understanding of the main ideas, events, or themes of a variety of
increasingly complex novels, dramas, stories, poetry, other print material, and electronic
media
• organize details and information that they have read, heard, or viewed, using a variety of
written or graphic forms
• make connections between the ideas and information presented in literary and mass media
works and their own experiences
Introduction:
Unresolved conflicts within families often fester for very long period of time. Some slights are
just too painful to forget. When Chig Dunford and his father Charles pay a long-delayed visit to
Charles’ mother, an old resentment resurfaces and at last it must be confronted.
Lesson Components:
•
bo Notes on the author and direct and indirect characterization on page 68.
•
bo Focus activity on page 68,
•
Review the Vocabulary on page 16.
•
Read the story, A Visit to 6randmother, on pages 69-74 using the active reading strategies.
Consult the vocabulary at the bottom of the page as needed.
•
Complete questions 1, 6-11 in Responding to the Selection on page 75.
•
Complete questions 1-2 in Analyzing Literature on page 75.
•
Complete questions in Critical Thinking and Reading on page 75.
•
Complete the worksheet,
A Visit to Grandmother William Melvin Kelley
(text page 69)
Understanding Characterization
An author reveals the personalities of characters in a story by using direct or indirect
ciiaracteri:ation. An author may make direct statements about a character, or he or she may
describe the character’s actions, thoughts and appearance. as well as what other people in the
story think of the character.
A Complete the following chart with examples from the story of direct and indirect
characterization for each character listed.
Character
Example: €
L
1
Examples of direct characterization
Examples of indirect
characterization
lie was wearing brown and white
two-tone shoes with very pointed
practicaljoker, and part Don Juan.
toes and a white summer suit.
GL is said to be part con man, part
.
.
.
-
1. Charles
2. Chig
3. Mama
4. Rose
B. Which method makes you feel you know a character better? Explain your answer.
t )11J13h
‘a
A Visit to Grandmother
William Melvin Kelley
chig knew something was wrong the
1 instant his father kissed her. He had always
inown his father to be the warmest of men,
man 54) kind that when people ventured
timidly into his office, it took only a few
words from him to make them relax, and
even laugh. Doctor Charles Dunford cared
people.
2 about
But when he had bent to kiss the old
lady’s black face, something new and al
most ugly had come Into his eyes: fear.
uncertainty, sadness, and perhaps even ha
tred.
—
Ten days before in New York, Chig’s
father had decided suddenly he wanted to go
to Nashville to attend his college class reun
ion, twenty years out. Both Chig’s brother
and sister, Peter and Connie. were packing
for camp and besides were too young for
such an affair. But Chig was seventeen, had
nothing to do that summer, and his father
asked if he would like to go along. His father
had given him additional reasons: “All my
running buddies got their diplomas and
were snapped up by them crafty young gals,
and had kids within a year—now all those
kids, some of them gals, are your age.”
The reunion had lasted a week. As they
packed for home, his father, in a far too
offhand way had suggested they visit Chig s
grandmother
We this close We might as
3i
well drnp in on her and m. brothers
So. instead of going north, they had gone
farther south, had just entered her house.
And Chig had a suspicion now that the
reunion had been only an excuse to drive
south, that his father had been heading to
this house all the time.
His father had never talked much about
his family, with the exception of his broth
er, GL, who seemed part con man, part
J
I
A Visit to Grandmother
69
practical joker and part Don Juan;
1 he had
flowered housecoat, and wiped her eyes,
spoken of GL with the kind of Indulgence he
God have mercy. Charles.” She spread her
would have shown a cute, but Ill-behaved
arms up to him, and he bent down and
and potentially dangerous, five-year-old.
kissed her cheek, That was when Chig saw
ChIg’s father had left home when he was
his face, grimacing. She hugged him; Chig
fifteen. When asked why, he would answer:
watched the muscles in her arms as they
“1 wanted to go to school. They didn’t have a
tightened around his father’s neck. She half
Negro high school at home, so I went up to
rose out of her chair. “How are you, son?”
Knoxville and lived with a cousin and went
Chig could not hear his father’s answer.
to school.”
She let him go, and fell back into her
They had been met at the door by Aunt
chair, grabbing the arms, Her hands were as
Rose, GL’s wife, and ushered Into the living
dark as the wood, and seemed to become
room. The old lady had looked up from her
part of it. “Now, who that standing there?
seat by the window. Aunt Rose stood be
Who that man?”
tween the visitors.
“That’s one of your grandsons, Mama,”
The old lady eyed his father. ‘Rose, who
His father’s voice cracked. “Charles Dunthat? Rose?” She squinted. She looked like
ford, junior. You saw him once, when he was
a doll, made of black straw, the wrinkles in
a baby, in Chicago. He’s grown now.”
her face running In one direction like the
“I can see that, boy!” She looked at Chig
head of a broom. Her hair was white and
squarely. “Come here, son, and kiss me
coarse and grew out straight from her head.
once.” He did. “What they call you? Charles
Her eyes were brown—the whites, too,
too?”
seemed light brown—and were hidden be
“No, ma’am, they call me Chig.”
hind thick glasses. which remained some
She smiled. She had all her teeth, but
how on a tiny nose. “That Hiram?” That
they were too perfect to be her own. “That’s
was another of his father’s brothers. “No. it
good. Can’t have two boys answering to
ain’t Hiram; too big for Hiram.” She turned
Charles in the same house. Won’t nobody at
then to Chig. “Now that man, he look
all come. So you that little boy. You don’t
like Eleanor, Charles’s wife, but Charles
remember me, do you. I used to take you to
wouldn’t never send my grandson to see
church in Chicago, and you’d get up and hop
me. I never even hear from Charles.” She
in time to the music. You studying to be a
stopped again.
preacher?”
‘It Charles, Mama. That who it Is.”
“No, ma’am. I don’t think so. I might be
Aunt Rose, between them, led them closer.
a lawyer.”
“It Charles come all the way from New
“You’ll be an honest one, won’t you?”
York to see you, and brung little Charles
“I’ll try.”
with him.”
“Trying ain’t enough! You be honest,
The old lady stared up at them.
you hear? Promise me. You be honest like
“Charles? Rose, that really Charles?” She
your daddy.”
turned away, and reached for a handker
“All right. I promise.”
chief in the pocket of her clean, ironed,
“Good. Rose, where’s GL at? Where’s
that thief? He gone again?”
“I don’t know, Mama.” Aunt Rose 8
looked embarrassed, “He say he was going
1. Don Jaan dan wan’> An Idle, immoral nobleman
who enjoyed a great appeal for women.
by the store. He’ll be back.”
*
j
-
70
Short Stories
? You call up
• Well, then where’s Hiram
get them over here—now!
those boys. and
to eat? Let me go see.’ She
you got enough
reached out his hand.
started to get up. Chig
off. “What they tell you
he shook him
They tell you I’m all laid
about me. Chig?
It. They don’t know noth
up? Dont believe
ladles. When [want help. I’ll
ing about old
time I 11 need help getting
let OU know Only
and they lift me
anyWhe Is when I dies
into the ground.”
back and
She was standing now, her
only to Chig’s
shoulders straight. She came
“You eat
him.
at
up
chest. She squinted
men.”
two
much? Your daddy ate like
• ‘Yes, ma’am.”
‘That’s good. That means you ain’t
nervous. I
ricrvous. Your mama, she ain’t
down
remember that. In Chicago. she’d sit
window all afternoon and never say
9 by a
me see
nothing. just knit.” She smiled. “Let
to eat.”
Lwhat we got
“I’ll do that, Mama.” Aunt Rose spoke
softly. “You haven’t seen Charles In a long
time. You sit and talk.”
The old lady squinted at her. “You can
do the cooking if you promise it ain’t be
cause you think I can’t.”
Aunt Rose chuckled. “I know you can do
it, Mama.”
“All right. I’ll just sit and talk a spell.”
She sat again and arranged her skirt around
her short legs.
Chig did most of the talking, told all
about himself before she asked. His father
spoke only when he was spoken to, and
time, as if by
10 then, only one word at a
coming back home, he had become a small
boy again, sitting In the parlor while his
Lmother spoke with her guests.
When Uncle Hiram and Mae, his wife,
came they sat down to eat. Chig did not have
to ask about Uncle GL’s absence: Aunt Rose
volunteered an explanation: “Can’t never
tell where the man is at. One Thursday
morning he left here and next thing we
knew, he was calling from Chicago. saying
2 fight. He’ll be
he went up to see Joe Louis
here though: he ain’t as young and footloose
as he used to be.” Chig’s father had menii
tioned driving down that GL was about five
fifty.
years older than he was, nearly
Uncle Hiram was somewhat smallef
than Chig’s father; his short-cropped kinky
hair was half gray. half black. One spot, just
off his forehead, was totally white. Later,
Chig found out it had been that way since he
was twenty. Mae (Chig could not bring him
self to call her Aunt) was a good deal young
er than Hiram, pretty enough so that Chig
would have looked at her twice on the street.
She was a honey-colored woman, with long
eyelashes. She was wearing a white sheath.
At dinner, Chig and his father sat on on1
side, opposite Uncle Hiram and Mae; his
grandmother and Aunt Rose sat at the ends.
The food was good: there was a lot and Chig
ate a lot. All through the meal, they talked
about the family as it had been thirty years
‘2
before, and particularly about the young GL.
Mae and Chig asked questions; the old lady
answered; Aunt Rose directed the discus
sion, steering the old lady onto the best
stories; Chig’s father laughed from time to
time; Uncle Hiram ate.
“Why don’t you tell them about the
horse, Mama?” Aunt Rose, over Chig’s weak
protest, was spooning mashed potatoes onto
his plate. “There now, Chig.”
“I’m trying to think.” The old lady was
holding her fork halfway to her mouth, look
ing at them over her glasses. “Oh, you talk
ing about that crazy horse GL brung home
that time.”
2. J. Louis: US. boxer(1914—1981), and the world
heavyweight champion from 1937 to 1949.
A Visit to Grandmother
71
‘That’s right, Mama.” Aunt Rose nod
ded and slid another slice of white meat on
Chig’s plate.
Mae started to giggle. “Oh, I’ve heard
this. This is funny, Chig.”
The old lady put down her fork and
began: Well, GL went out of the house one
day with an old, no-good chair I wanted him
to take over to the church for a bazaar, and
he met up with this man who’d just brung
In some horses from out West. Now, I reckon
you can expect one swindler to be in every
town, but you don’t rightly think there’ll be
two, and God forbid they should ever meet
—but they did, GL and his chair, this man
and his horses. Well, I wished I’d-a been
there: there must-a been some mighty highpowered talking going on. That man with
his horses, he told GL them horses was
72
Short Stories
half-Arab, half-Indian, and GL told that
man the chair was an antique hed stole
from some rich white folks. So they
swapped. Well, I was a-looking out the win
dow and seen GL dragging this animal to the
house. It looked pretty gentle and its eves
was most closed and its feet was shuf
fling.
L heredougetthatthing? Isas
“I swapped him for that old chair,
Mama,” he says. “And made myself a bar
gain. This is even better than Papa’s horse.”
Well, I’m a-looking at this horse and
noticing how he be looking more and more
wide awake every minute, sort of warming
up like a teakettle until, I swears to you, that
horse is blowing steam out its nose.
“Come on, Mama,” GL says, “come on
and I’ll take you for a ride.” Now George. my
husband, God rest his tired soul, he’d brung
home this white folks’ buggy which had a
busted wheel and fixed It and was to take it
back that day and GL says: “Come on,
Mama, we’ll use this fine buggy and take us
a ride.”
“GL,” I says, “no, we ain’t, Them white
folks’ll burn us alive if we use their buggy.
You just take that horse right on back,”
You see, I was sure that boy’d come by that
animal ungainly.
“Mama, I can’t take him back,” GL says.
“Why not?” I says.
“Because I don’t rightly know where
that man is at,” GL says.
“Oh,” I says. “Well, then I reckon we
stuck with it.” And I turned around to go
back into the house because it was getting
late, near dinner time, and I was cooking
for ten.
“Mama,” GL says to my back. “Mama,
ain’t you coming for a ride with me?”
“Go on, boy. You ain’t getting me inside
kicking range of that animal.” I was eying
that beast and it was boiling hotter all the
14
:5
maybe that man had drugged
time. I reckon
I says.
‘That horse is wild, GL,
man say he
That
ain’t.
No. he ain’t. He
sweet as
as
and
saddle broke
is bugy and
apple.”
the inside of a
on
‘
had-a come out
My oldest girl, Essie,
says: ‘Go on, Mama. I’ll
the porch and she
been out the house in
cook. You ain’t
weeks-’•
says.
‘Sure. come on, Mama.” CL
about
be fidgety
There un t nothing to
rose petal.” And
a
as
gentle
This horse is
so hard it sets
Just then that animal snorts
around its feet.
up a little dust storm
‘you can see
Essle
.Yes Mama,”
and then
Essie
at
he gentle.” Well, I looked
we
think
didn’t
at that horse because I
animal. I
could be looking at the same
ain’t
eyes
Essie’s
how
should-a figured
never been so good.
“Come on, Mama,” GL says.
11
“All right,” I says. So I stood on the
porch and watched GL hitching that horse
while
up to the white folks’ buggy. For a
there, the animal was pretty quiet, pawing a
little, but not much. And I was feeling a
little better about riding with GL behind that
crazy-looking horse. I could see how CL was
happy I was going with him. He was scurry
ing around that animal buckling buckles
and strapping straps, all the time smiling,
and that made me feel good.
Then he was finished, and I must say,
that horse looked mighty fine hitched to
that buggy and I knew anybody what
climbed up there would look pretty good too.
GL came around and stood at the bottom of
the steps, and took off his hat and bowed
and said: “Madam,” and reached out his
hand to me and 1 was feeling real elegant like
a_fine lady. He helped me up to the seat and
then got up beside me and we moved out
down our alley. And I remember how black
folks orne out on their porches and shook
their heads, saying: “Lord now, will you look
at Eva Dunford, the fine lady! Don’t she look
good sitting up there!” And I pretended not
to hear and sat up straight and proud.
We rode on through the center of town,
up Market Street, and all the way out where
Hiram is living now, which In them days was
all woods, there not being even a farm in
sight and that’s when that horse must-a
first realized he weren’t at all broke or tame
or maybe thought he was back out West
again, and started to gallop.
“GL,” I says, “now you ain’t Joking with
your mama, is you? Because if you is, I’ll
strap you purple if I live through this.”
Well, CL was pulling on the reins with
all his meager strength, and yelling, “Whoa,
you. Say now, whoa!” He turned to me just
long enough to say, “I ain’t fooling with you,
Mama. Honest!”
I reckon that animal weren’t too satis
fied with the road, because it made a sharp
right turn Just then, down into a gulley and
struck out across a hilly meadow. “Mama,”
GL yells. “Mama, do something!”
I didn’t know what to do, but I figured I
had to do something so I stood up, hopped
down onto the horse’s back and pulled it to a
stop. Don’t ask me how I did that: I reckon it
was that I was a mother and my baby asked
me to do something, is all.
“Well, we walked that animal all the way
home: sometimes I had to club it over the
nose with my fist to make It come, but we
made it, CL and me, You remember how
tired we was, Charles?”
‘I wasn’t here at the time.” Chig turned
to his father and found his face completely
blank, without even a trace of a smile or a
laugh.
“Well, of course you was, son. That hap
it was a hot summer
in
pened in
and—”
year
that
.
.
.
.
,
.
A Visit to Grandmother
75
-
“1 left here in June of that year. You
wrote me about it.”
The old lady stared past Chig at him.
They all turned to him: Uncle Hiram looked
up from his plate.
“Then you don’t remember how we all
laughed?”
‘No, I don’t, Mama. And I probably
wouldn’t have laughed. I don’t think It was
funny.” They were staring Into each other’s
eyes.
“Why not, Charles?”
“Because in the first place, the horse
was gained by fraud. And in the second
place, both of you might have been serious
ly injured or even killed.” He broke off their
stare and spoke to himself more than to any
of them: “And if I’d done it, you would’ve
beaten me good for it.”
“Pardon?” The old lady had not heard
him: only Chig had heard.
Chig’s father sat up straight as if pre
paring to debate. “1 said that if I had done It,
if I had done just exactly what CL did, you
would have beaten me good for It, Mama.”
He was looking at her again.
“Why you say that, son?” She was lean
ing toward him.
“Don’t you know? Tell the truth. It can’t
hurt me now.” His voice cracked, but only
once. “If CL and I did something wrong.
you’d beat me first and then be too tired to
beat him. At dinner, he’d always get seconds
and I wouldn’t. You’d do things with him,
like ride In that buggy. but If I wanted you to
do something with me, you were always too
busy.” He paused and considered whether
to say what he finally did say: “I cried when
I left here. Nobody loved me, Mama. I cried
all the way up to Knoxville. That was the
last time I ever cried in my life.”
“Oh, Charles.” She started to get up, to
come around the table to him,
He stopped her. “It’s too late,”
“But you don’t understand.”
74
Short Stories
“What don’t I understand? I understood
then: I understand now.”
Tears now traveled down the lines In her
face, but when she spoke, her voice was
clear. “I thought you knew. I had ten chil
dren, I had to give all of them what they
needed most.” She nodded. “I paid more
mind to CL. I had to. CL could-a ended up
swinging if I hadn’t. But you was smarter,
You was more growed up than GL when you
was five and he was ten, and I tried to show
you that by letting you do what you wanted
to do.”
“That’s not true, Mama. You know it. CL
was light-skinned and had good hair and
looked almost white and you loved him for
that.”
“Charles, no. No, son. I didn’t love any
one of you more than any other.”
“That can’t be true.” His father was
standing now, his fists clenched tight.
“Admit it, Mama.
please!” Chig looked
at him, shocked: the man was actually
crying.
“It may not-a been right what I done,
but I ain’t no liar.” Chig knew she did not
really understand what had happened, what
he wanted of her. “I’m not lying to you,
Charles.”
Chig’s father had gone pale. He spoke
very softly. “You’re about thirty years too
late, Mama.” He bolted from the table. Sil
verware and dishes rang and jumped. Chig
heard him hurrying up to their room.
They sat in silence for awhile and then
heard a key in the front door. A man with a
new, lacquered straw hat came in. He was
wearing brown and white two-tone shoes
with very pointed toes and a white summer
suit. “Say now! Man! I heard my brother
was in town. Where he at? Where that ras
cal?”
He stood in the doorway, smiling broad
an
engaging, open, friendly smile, the
ly,
innocent smile of a five-year-old.
.
.
21
TO THE SELECTION
Your RespJiise
1.
you identify with any of the characters in
the story? Explain.
Recaiiii g
father Charles
2 What s the reason Chig s
gives for visiting Chig s grandmother”
for leaving
3. What reasons does Charles give
home when he was fifteen?
4. What is Charles’s reaction to the story that
Mama tells about the horse?
5. i-low does Mama explain the difference in the
way she treated her children?
lnterpre!g
8. Why is there “fear, uncertainty, sadness, and
perhaps even hatred in Charles’s eyes when
he kisses his mother?
7. Describe Charles’s attitude toward GL.
8. Why is GL the center of attention?
9. Why do you think Charles has not visited his
mother before? What draws him back now?
10. What do you think Charles’s relationship with
his mother will be like in the future?
Applying
11. What are some possible effects of not clear
ing up misunderstandings?
IA
1
LITERATURE
Underta*iding Characterization
With direct characterization, the author tells
you directly what a character is like. With Indirect
characterization, the author allows you to dis
cover what a character is like through the dia
logue and action of the character or through other
characters’ comments. In “A Visit to Grand
mother,” Kelley uses indirect characterization to
present GL. Even though GL doesn’t appear un
til the end of the story, you know a great deal
about him from what other characters say.
1. List three things you learn about GL indirectly.
2. Explain how the author reveals each of the de
tails you listed.
I
CRITICAL THINKING AND READING
Making inferences About Characters
When authors reveal characters indirectly,
you make inferences, or reasonable conclusions
based on evidence, to know what the characters
are like. For example, when Aunt Rose offers to
cook dinner, you might infer that she is a consid
erate person.
What inferences about the characters can
you make from the following statements?
1. Mama: “‘Only time I’ll need help getting any
wt,eres is when I dies and they lift me into the
ground.’”
2. Charles:
spoke only when he was spo
ken to
as if by coming back home, he had
become a small boy again.
“‘.
.
.
.
.
.
.
IT
111
AND WRITING
Writing a Character Sketch
Think of somebody you know who is an un
usually interesting or memorable character. Write
an article for a magazine in which you show the
special qualities of the person. Include examples
of things the person has done and said to illus
trate your statements about what he or she is like.
Try to get across the sense that the person is truly
special. Revise your article, making sure your
points are clear.
I
OPTIoN
Writing. In the story Charles mentions that his
mother wrote to him about the incident with the
horse. If Charles had written back to his mother,
what might his letter have said? Put yourself in
Charles’s place and write a letter to Mama in re
sponse to her letter about the horse. In your let
ter try to capture Charles’s feelings based on what
you learn about him in the story.
A Visit to Grandmother
75