The Three Black Pennys

Joseph Hergesheimer
The Three Black Pennys

The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Three Black Pennys, by Joseph
Hergesheimer This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost
and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it
away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License
included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: The Three Black Pennys A Novel
Author: Joseph Hergesheimer
Release Date: February 21, 2005 [EBook #15135]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE
THREE BLACK PENNYS ***

Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team. Images
provided by the Million Book Project.

THE THREE BLACK PENNYS

THE THREE BLACK PENNYS
A NOVEL
JOSEPH HERGESHEIMER
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
_By Arrangement with Alfred A. Knopf_
COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY
ALFRED A. KNOPF

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

A DEDICATION Dear John Hemphill _This is a record and act of
memory of you at Dower House--of June nights on the porch, with the
foliage of the willow tree powdered against the stars; the
white-panelled hearth of the yellow room in smouldering winter dusks;
dinner with the candles wavering in tepid April airs; and the blue
envelopment of late September noons. A quiet reach like the old grey
house and green fields, the little valleys filled with trees and placid
town beyond the hill, where the calendar of our days and
companionship is set._
Joseph Hergesheimer

CONTENTS
I THE FURNACE
II THE FORGE
III THE METAL

I THE FURNACE

I
A twilight like blue dust sifted into the shallow fold of the thickly
wooded hills. It was early October, but a crisping frost had already
stamped the maple trees with gold, the Spanish oaks were hung with
patches of wine red, the sumach was brilliant in the darkening
underbrush. A pattern of wild geese, flying low and unconcerned above
the hills, wavered against the serene, ashen evening. Howat Penny,
standing in the comparative clearing of a road, decided that the shifting,
regular flight would not come close enough for a shot. He dropped the
butt of his gun to the ground. Then he raised it again, examining the
hammer; the flint was loose, unsatisfactory. There was a probability
that it would miss firing.
He had no intention of hunting the geese. With the drooping of day his
keenness had evaporated; an habitual indifference strengthened,
permeating him. He turned his dark, young face toward the transparent,

green afterglow; the firm eyebrows drawn up at the temples, sombre
eyes set, too, at a slight angle, a straight nose, impatient mouth and
projecting chin. Below him, and to the left, a heavy, dark flame and
silvery smoke were rolling from the stack of Shadrach Furnace. Figures
were moving obscurely over the way that led from the coal house, set
on the hill, to the top and opening of the furnace; finishing, Howat
Penny knew, the charge of charcoal, limestone and iron ore.
Shadrach Furnace had been freshly set in blast; it was on that account
he was there, to represent, in a way, his father, who owned a half
interest in the Furnace. However, he had paid little attention to the
formality; his indifference was especially centred on the tedious
processes of iron making, which had, at the same time, made his family.
He had gone far out from the Furnace tract into an utterly uninhabited
and virginal region, where he had shot at, and missed, an impressive
buck and killed a small bear. Now, that he had returned, his apathy
once more flooded him; but he had eaten nothing since morning, and he
was hungry.
He could go home, over the nine miles of road that bound the Furnace
to Myrtle Forge and the Penny dwelling; there certain of whatever
supper he would elect. But, he decided, he preferred something now,
less formal. There were visitors at Myrtle Forge, Abner Forsythe, who
owned the other half of Shadrach, his son David, newly back from
England and the study of metallurgy, and a Mr. Winscombe, come out
to the Provinces in connection with the Maryland boundary dispute,
accompanied by his wife. All this Howat Penny regarded with
profound distaste; necessary social and conversational forms repelled
him. And it annoyed his father when he sat, apparently morose, against
the wall, or retired solitary to his room.
He would get supper here; they would be glad to have him at the house
of Peter Heydrick, the manager of the Furnace. Half turning, he could
see the dwelling at his back--a small, grey stone rectangle with a
narrow portico on its solid face and a pale glimmer of candles in the
lower windows. The ground immediately about it was cleared of brush
and little trees,
Continue reading on your phone by scaning this QR Code

 / 120
Tip: The current page has been bookmarked automatically. If you wish to continue reading later, just open the Dertz Homepage, and click on the 'continue reading' link at the bottom of the page.