{"product_id":"2940013682610","title":"Selected Short Stories","description":"In front of the Y Wurry Gas \u0026amp; Fixit Station, at Mechanicville, New\u003cbr\u003eYork, the proprietor, Mr. Rabbit Tait, sat elegantly upon a kitchen\u003cbr\u003echair.  He was a figure, that Rabbit Tait--christened Thomas.  His\u003cbr\u003etrousers might be spotty, and their hem resembled the jagged edges\u003cbr\u003eof magnified razor blades shown in the advertisements, but his\u003cbr\u003eshirt was purple, with narrow red stripes, his sleeve garters were\u003cbr\u003eof silvered metal, and on one sausage-like forefinger was a ring\u003cbr\u003ewith a ruby which would have been worth two hundred thousand\u003cbr\u003edollars had it not been made of glass.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMr. Tait was not tall, but he was comfortably round; his face was\u003cbr\u003eflushed; his red mustache was so beautifully curled that he\u003cbr\u003eresembled a detective; and his sandy hair was roached down over his\u003cbr\u003eforehead in one of the most elegant locks ever seen on the wrong\u003cbr\u003eside of a mahogany bar.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOut from the neat white cottage behind the filling station, a\u003cbr\u003eresidence with all modern conveniences except bathrooms, gas and\u003cbr\u003eelectricity, charged his spouse, Mrs. Bessie Tait, herding their\u003cbr\u003eson Terry.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNow Bessie was not beautiful.  She had a hard-boiled-egg forehead\u003cbr\u003eand a flatiron jaw, which harmonized with her milk-can voice to\u003cbr\u003ecompose a domestic symphony.  Nor was Rabbit Tait, for all his\u003cbr\u003edashing air, an Apollo.  But Terry, aged six, was a freak of\u003cbr\u003ebeauty.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe was too good to be true.  He had, surely, come off a magazine\u003cbr\u003ecover.  He had golden hair, like blown thistledown in a sunset, his\u003cbr\u003eskin was white silk, his big eyes violet, his nose straight, and\u003cbr\u003ehis mouth had twisting little smiles which caused the most loyal\u003cbr\u003edrunkards to go home and reform.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHow he had ever happened to Rabbit and Bessie Tait, how the angels\u003cbr\u003e(or the stork, or Doc McQueech) had ever happened to leave Terry in\u003cbr\u003ethe cottage behind the Y Wurry Filling Station instead of in the\u003cbr\u003ebaronial clapboard castle of the Mechanicville banker, is a mystery\u003cbr\u003ewhich is left to the eugenists.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBessie was speaking in a manner not befitting the mother of a\u003cbr\u003eChristmas-card cherub:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"For the love of Mike, Rabbit, are you going to sit there on your\u003cbr\u003echair all afternoon?  Why don't you get busy?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Yeah?\" contributed the cherub's father.  \"Sure!  Whajjuh wamme do?\u003cbr\u003eGo out and grab some bozo's bus by the radiator cap and make him\u003cbr\u003ecome in and buy some gas?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Well, you kin fix the screen door, can't you?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"The screen door?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Yes, the screen door, you poor glue!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"The screen door?  Is it busted?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Oh, heck, no; it ain't busted!  I just want you to come and\u003cbr\u003escratch its back where the mosquitoes been biting it, you poor sap!\u003cbr\u003eAnd then you can take care of this brat.  Under my feet the whole\u003cbr\u003edog-gone day!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe slapped Terry, generously and skilfully, and as Terry howled,\u003cbr\u003eRabbit rose uneasily, pale behind the bronze splendor of his curled\u003cbr\u003emustache.  Bessie was obviously in one of her more powerful moods,\u003cbr\u003eand it is to be feared that we should have had the distressing\u003cbr\u003espectacle of Mr. Tait going to work, driven by his good lady's iron\u003cbr\u003ejaw and granite will, had not, that second, a limousine stopped at\u003cbr\u003ethe filling station.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn the limousine was a lady so rich, so rich and old, that she had\u003cbr\u003eto be virtuous.  She had white hair and a complexion like an old\u003cbr\u003echina cup.  Glancing out while Rabbit Tait cheerily turned the\u003cbr\u003ehandle of the gas pump, she saw Terry.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Oh!\" she squealed.  \"What an angelic child!  Is it yours?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Yes, ma'am,\" chuckled Rabbit, while Bessie ranged forward, beaming\u003cbr\u003eon the treasure she had so recently slapped.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"He ought to be a choir boy,\" said the refined old lady.  \"He would\u003cbr\u003ebe simply darling, at St. Juke's, in Albany.  You must take him\u003cbr\u003ethere, and introduce him to Doctor Wimple, the curate--he's so fond\u003cbr\u003eof the little ones!  I'm sure your dear little boy could be sent to\u003cbr\u003esome church school free, and THINK--these dreadful modern days--\u003cbr\u003eotherwise, with his beauty, he might get drawn into the movies as a\u003cbr\u003echild star, or some frightful thing like that, and be ruined!  Good\u003cbr\u003emorning!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Jiminy, that's a swell old dame!\" observed the dear little boy as\u003cbr\u003ethe limousine swam away.","brand":"WDS Publishing","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47145708093680,"sku":"2940013682610","price":2.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0737\/7593\/9824\/files\/2940013682610_p0.jpg?v=1763584327","url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/2940013682610","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}