Explore "The Turmoil" by Booth Tarkington on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
As Bibbs came out of the New House, a Sunday trio was in course of passage upon the sidewalk: an ample young woman, placid of face; a black-clad, thin young man, whose expression was one of habitual anxiety, habitual wariness and habitual eagerness. He propelled a perambulator containing the third -- and all three were newly cleaned, Sundayfied, and made fit to dine with the wife's relatives.
"How'd you like for me to be that young fella, mamma? " the husband whispered. "He's one of the sons, and there ain't but two left now."