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700 Common Words Exercise No. 4 with Longhand and ShorthandI did not know the Blacks very well as a family, but I had run up against them in the street from time to time. They had lived in a large old house just off the High Street. The house was too large for their requirements, and it was difficult to keep warm in winter. The bedrooms were too big, and when the weather was cold people trying to find comfort in the sitting room might just as well have been in the street outside for all the warmth they received from the coals burning in the little fireplace. But the Blacks did not move into a smaller and newer house. It did not come into their heads to do so. The old house had always been their home. Father and mother had lived there from the first day of their married life, and the two children had spent all their days there. There they were and there they were likely to be in the years to come. Modern and new houses were short in the days that followed the war, and Black himself found the situation of the old place very satisfactory because he ran an office in the High Street, and he could walk to or from his work in a matter of five minutes. This saved him time, money, and trouble, and he thought himself a very happy man in this respect. I doubt whether I ever would have gone into that house had I not offered to try to get some money for a good cause in which I was at that time interested. I went from house to house which I was at that time interested. I went from house to house asking for money. I may add that I did not like asking other people to give up their hard – won money, but, on the other hand, I very much desired money for my cause, and so I was able to steel myself to go my rounds. Most people gave willingly a little perhaps, but a large enough number of small amounts can make a large sum, and I was always thankful for anything down to the last penny. The door of the Black house was opened by a little maid who showed me into the sitting-room. It was a cold afternoon, and the mother and the girl were sitting near to the fire reading. My surprise must have shown itself on my fact. I looked from one to the other. The mother must have married quite young, for she was clearly under 40 while the girl was quite young, for she was clearly under 40 while the girl was about 17. What surprised me was that the two faces looked just the same. Not a line showed on the mother’s face, and her eyes, so clear and blue, were no less beautiful that those of the girl. The faces were small and perfect in form. Never had I before seen such a remarkable likeness between two people of such different age. Yet there was a difference, and what a difference it was! Done high up on the girl’s head, above those blue eyes, was a wonderful mass of red-gold. Where were the modern painters, I asked myself, waiting to paint this red-gold loveliness for future people to look at? Such a wonderful thing should be seen by all the world. It was not enough for it to be kept here, not known, not loved, except by her own family. How long, I asked myself, could such colour last? It seemed to burn, and I had the feeling that it would burn itself out. I turned my eyes back to the mother, with her perfect face. Done high up on her head in the say way was a mass of white. I looked, and not one touch of colour cold I see. My face must have expressed only too clearly my thoughts, for the mother turned to me and said: Yes, it is very beautiful. I was just like that once, and look at me now! All the women in our family are white before they are 30.
