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äZERVÜtotomm ïtt'AKy^-wfà^JJiimi RWSBïï ¦WMViimeaasa: by Elizabeth Madox Roberts There was a play-party at the schoolhouse at the bottom of the cove. Newt Reddix waited outside the house, listening to the noises as Lester Hunter, the teacher, had listened to them--a new way for Newt. Sound at the bottom of a cove was different from sound at the top, he noticed, for at the top voices spread into a wide thinness. Before Lester came, Newt had let his ears have their own way of listening. Sounds had then been for but one purpose--to tell him what was happening or what was being said. Now the what of happenings and sayings was wrapped aabout with some unrelated feeling or prettiness, or it stood back beyond some heightened qualities. "Listen!" Lester had said to him one evening, standing outside a house where a party was going forward. "Listen!" And there were footsteps and outcries of men and women, happy cries, shrill notes of surprise and pretended anger, footsteps on rough wood, unequal intervals, a flare of fiddle playing and a tramp of dancing feet. Down in the cove the sounds from a party were different from those that came from a
Appalachian Review – University of North Carolina Press
Published: Jan 8, 1980
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