Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Hi, this is Stefania at Positive affirmations and audio stories
begin you happy thoughts, inspiration, motivation, entertainment and stories to
start your day or to enter day. We use the
power of positive words to help you live the positive,
uplifting lifestyle that you deserve. To Night's episode is a
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sleep story. Is time to head off to a peaceful,
enjoyable sleep with a relaxing bedtime story. Our story to
night is a pair of Silk Stockings, written by Kate
Chopin A pair of silk stockings. Little missus Summers one
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day found herself the unexpected possessor of fifteen dollars. It
seemed to her a very large amount of money, and
the way in which it stopped and bulged her old
port moneai Hers gave her a feeling of importance such
as she had not enjoyed in years. The question of
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investment was one that occupied her greatly For a day
or two. She walked about, apparently in a dreamy state.
What really absorbed in speculation and calculation. She did not
wish to act hastily to do anything she might afterward regret.
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But it was during the still hours of the night
when she lay awake revolving plans in her mind that
she seemed to see her way clearly toward a proper
and judicious use of the money. A dollar or two
should be added to the price usually paid for Janny's shoes,
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which would ensure their lasting and appreciable time longer than
they usually did. She would buy so and so many
yards of her call for new shirtwaists for the boys
and Jannie and mag She had intended to make the
old ones do by skillful patching. Meg should have another gowp.
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She had seen some beautiful patterns, veritable bargains in the
stroup windows, and still there would be left enough for
new stockings, two pairsipaes, and what darning that will say
for a while. She would get caps for the boys
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and sailor hats for the girls. The vision of her
little brood looking fresh and dainty and new for once
in their lives excited her and made her restless and
wakeful with anticipation. The neighbors sometimes talked of certain better
days that little missus Summers had known before she had
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ever thought of being Missus Somers. She herself and dulged
in no such morbid retrospection. She had no time, no
second of time to devote to the best. The niece
of the present absorbed her every faculty a vision of
the future, like some dim, giant, gaunt monster sometimes of older,
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but luckily tomorrow never comes. Missus Sommers was one who
knew the value of bargains, who could stand for hours,
making her way inch by inch toward the desired object
that was selling below cost. She could help her way
if need be. She had learned to clutch a piece
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of goods and hold it and stick to it with
persistence and determination. To her turn came to be served
no matter when it came. But that day she was
a little faint and tired. She has swallowed a light
luncheon no when she came to think of it. Between
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getting the children fed and the place righted, and preparing
herself for the shopping bolt, she had actually forgotten to
eat any luncheon at all. She sat herself upon an
evolving stool before a counter that was comparatively deserted, trying
to gather strength and courage to charge through an eager
multitude that was beseeving breastworks of shirting and figured lawn
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and all gone. Lamp feeling had come over her, and
she rested her hand aimlessly upon the counter. She wore
no gloves. By degrees, she grew aware that her hand
had encountered something very soothing, very pleasant to touch. She
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looked down to see that her hand lay upon a
spile of silk stockings. Placard near by announced that they
had been reduced in price from two dollars and fifty
cents to one dollar and nineteen cents, and a young
girl who stood behind the counter asked her if she
wished to examine their line of silk hosiery. She smiled,
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just as if she had been asked to inspect a
te hour of diamonds, with the ultimate view of purchasing it.
But she went on feeling the soft sheny luxurious things
with both hands, now holding them up to see them glisten,
and to feel them glides serpent like through her fingers.
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Two hectic blotches came suddenly into her pale cheeks. She
looked up at the girl. Do you think there are
any eights and a halfs among these? There were any
number of eights and a half. In fact, there were
more of that size than any other. Here was a
light blue pear There were some lavenders, some all black,
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and various shades of tan and gray. Missus Summers selected
a black pair and looked at them very long and closely.
She pretended to be examining their Derkshire, which the clerk
assured her was excellent. Padella had ninety eight cents, she
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mused aloud, Well, I'll take this fare. She handed the
girl a five dollar bill and waited for her change
and for her parcel. What a very small parcel it was.
It seemed lost in the depths of her shabby, old
shopping bag. Missus Summers, after that did not move in
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the direction of the bargain counter. She took the elevator,
which carried her to an upper floor into the region
of the ladies waiting rooms. Here, in a retired corner,
she changed her cotton stockings for the new silk ones
which she had just bought. She was not going through
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any acute mental process or reasoning with herself, nor was
she striving to explain to her satisfaction the motive of
her action. She was not thinking at all. She seemed
for the time to be taking arrests from that laborious
and fatiguing function and to have abandoned herself to some
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mechanical impulse that directed her actions and freed her of responsibility.
How good was the touch of the raw silk to
her flesh. She felt like lying back in the cushioned
chair and reveling for a while in the luxury of it.
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She did for a little while. Then she replaced her shoes,
rolled the cotton stockings together, and thrust them into her
After doing this, she crossed straight over to the shoe
department and took her seat to be fitted. She was fastidious.
The clerk could not make her out. He could not
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reconcile her shoes with her sockings, and she was not
easily pleased. She held back her skirts and turned her
feet one way and her head another way. As she
glanced down at the polished, pointy tipped boots. Her foot
and ankle looked very pretty. She could not realize that
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they belonged to her and were a part of herself.
She wanted an excellent and stylish fit, she told the
young fellow who served her, and she did not mind
the difference of a dollar or two more in the price,
so long as she got what she desired. It was
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a long time since Missus Summers had been fitted with
gloves on rare occasions. When she had bought a pair,
they were always bargains, so cheap that it would have
been preposterous and unreasonable to have inspected them to be
fitted to the hand. Now she rested her elbow on
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the cushion of the glove counter, and a pretty pleasant
young creature, delicate and deft of touch, drew a long
wristed kid over Missus Summer's hand. She smoothed it down
over the wrist and buttoned it neatly, and both lost
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themselves for a second or two in admiring contemplation of
the little, symmetrical gloved hand. But there were other places
where money might be spent. There were books and magazines
piled high in the window of a stall a few
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paces down the street. Missus Summers bought two high priced magazines,
such as she had been accustomed to read in the
days when she had been accustomed to other pleasant things.
She carried them without wrapping as well as she could.
She lifted her skirt at the crossings. Her stockings and
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boots and well fitting gloves had worked marvels in her bearing,
had given her a feeling of assurance, a sense of
belonging to the well dressed multitude. She was very hungry.
Another time she would have stilled the cravings for food
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until reaching her own home, while she would have brewed
herself a cup of tea and taken a snack of
anything that was available. But the impulse that was guided
her would not suffer her to entertain any such thought.
There was a restaurant at the corner. She had never
entered its doors. From the outside, she had sometimes caught
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glimpses of spotless damask and shining crystal, and soft stepping
waiters serving people of fashion. When she entered, her appearance
created no surprise, no consternation, as she had half fidget might.
She seated herself at a small table, alone and attentive.
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Waiter at once approached to take your order. She did
not want a profusion. She craved a nice and tasty bite,
a half dozen blue points, a plump chop with crests uh,
something sweet crim for pay for instance, a glass of
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wine wine, and after all a small cup of black coffee.
While waiting to be served, she removed her gloves very
leisurely and laid them beside her then she picked up
a magazine and glanced through it, cutting the pages with
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the blunt edge of her knife. It was all very agreeable.
The damask was even more spotless than it appeared through
the window, and the crystal were sparkling. There were quiet
ladies and gentlemen who did not notice her, lunching at
the small tables like her own. A soft, pleasing strain
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of music could be heard, and a gentle breeze was
blowing through the window. She tasted a bite, and she
read a word or two, and she sipped amber wine
and wiggled her toes in the silk stockings. The price
of it made no difference. She counted the money out
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to the waiter and left an extra coin on his tray,
whereupon he bowed before her as before a princess of
royal blood. There was still money in her purse, and
her next temptation presented herself in the shape of a
matinee poster. It was a little later when she entered
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the theater. The play begun, and the house seemed to
her to be packed, But there were vacant seats here
and there, and into one of them she was ushered
between brilliantly dressed women who had gone there to kill
time and eat candy and display their gaudy at higher
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There were many others who were there solely for the
play and acting. It is safe to say there was
no one present who bore the attitude which Missus Summers
did to her surroundings. She gathered in the hole the
stage and players and people in one wide impression, and
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absorbed it and enjoyed it. She laughed at the comedy
and wept. She and the gaudy woman next to her
wept over the tragedy, and they talked a little together
over it. And the gaudy woman wiped her eyes and
sniffled on a little square of filmy perfumed lace, and
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passed little Missus Summers her box of candy. The play
was over, the music ceased, the crowd filed out. It
was like a dream ended. People scattered in all directions.
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Missus Summers went to the corner and waited for the
cable car. A man with keen eyes who sat opposite
to her seemed to like the study of her small,
pale face. It puzzled him to decipher what he saw there.
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In truth, he saw nothing unless he were wizard enough
to detect a poignant wish, a powerful longing that the
cable car would never stop anywhere but go on and
on with her forever. And that's the end of our story.
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Feel free to share this podcast with your family, with
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are into relaxing by coloring, we've uploaded and are uploading
a few more pages of coloring that you can download
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and have a go. And that's it for now. Have
a good day, have a peaceful night, stay well, be happy,
and buy for now