Explore "The Builders" by Ellen Glasgow on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The train was late that day, and when the old leather mail pouch was brought in, dripping wet, by Jonas, the negro driver, Mrs. Meade put down the muffler she was knitting, and received it reluctantly.
"At least there aren't any bills at this time of the month," she observed, with the manner of one who has been designed by Providence to repel disaster.