Katherine Mansfield / The Canary

Illustration by Triunfo Arciniegas

The Canary

by Katherine Mansfield
BIOGRAPHY

Katherine Mansfield / El canario (De otros mundos)

Katherine Mansfield / O canário (Pessoa)

. . . YOU see that big nail to the right of the front door ? I can scarcely look at it even now and yet I could not bear to take it out. I should like to think it was there always even after my time. I sometimes hear the next people saying, " There must have been a cage hanging from there." And it comforts me ; I feel he is not quite forgotten.

Katherine Mansfield / The Fly

THE FLY

by Katherine Mansfield
BIOGRAPHY

Katherine Mansfield / La mosca

'Y'ARE VERY SNUG in here,' piped old Mr. Woodifield, and peered out of the great, green-leather armchair by his friend the boss's desk as a baby peers out of its pram. His talk was over; it was time for him to be off. But he did not want to go. Since he had retired, since his... stroke, the wife and the girls kept him boxed up in the house every day of the week except Tuesday. On Tuesday he was dressed and brushed and allowed to cut back to the City for the day. Though what he did there the wife and girls couldn't imagine. Made a nuisance of himself to his friends, they supposed....Well, perhaps so. All the same, we cling to our last pleasures as the tree clings to its last leaves. So there sat old Woodifield, smoking a cigar and staring almost greedily at the boss, who rolled in his office chair, stout, rosy, five years older than he, and still going strong, still at the helm. It did one good to see him.

Katherine Mansfield / The Doll's House

The Doll´s House

by Katherine Mansfield
BIOGRAPHY

Katherine Mansfield / La casa de muñecas

When dear old Mrs. Hay went back to town after staying with the Burnells she sent the children a doll's house. It was so big that the carter and Pat carried it into the courtyard, and there it stayed, propped up on two wooden boxes beside the feed-room door. No harm could come of it; it was summer. And perhaps the smell of paint would have gone off by the time it had to be taken in. For, really, the smell of paint coming from that doll's house ("Sweet of old Mrs. Hay, of course; most sweet and generous!") -- but the smell of paint was quite enough to make any one seriously ill, in Aunt Beryl's opinion. Even before the sacking was taken off. And when it was . . .