"IT went many months, But at last
came a knock,
And I thought of the door With no lock to lock.
I blew out
the light, I tip-toed the floor.
And raised both hands in prayer to the
door.
But the knock came again My window was wide;
I climbed on the sill
And descended outside.
Back over the sill I bade a "Come in"
To whoever
the knock At the door may have been.
So at a knock I emptied my cage
To
hide in the world And alter with age."
"The Lockless Door" by Robert Frost
In late September in the evening there was a knock at the door. Looking
out the window I saw a shiny new car. The man at the door wore a black overcoat
over a pinstriped suit, bow tie, and two-toned polished new shoes. His hair was
parted in the middle slicked down with hair dressing. He had leather gloves on
his hands and held his English driving cap. I called for Ma; we went to the
door, and mother opened it. "I'm Mr. Harrigan O'Hare." "Father!" cried Molly who
came into the room along with Aunt Mary and Pa. "Please come into the parlor,"
mother told him. "Take Mr. O'Hare's coat and hat, Becky," mother said. Then the
guest spoke, "Mr. Thorpe, Molly was taken away from me illegally. I have papers
for her return to me." "Papers drawn up by some 'highfalutin' crooked
Philadelphia lawyer," Aunt Mary whispered to me. "I will return in the morning
to pick her up. It's so good to see you, Molly; I missed you very much honey.
Things will be better now. I have a new job with the American Union, and will be
able to provide for you better than the Thorpes can." Mother spoke right up,
"Please stay for a few days before you take Molly away." "I'm very sorry, but I
have to return right away." Molly's father gave her a hug and told her she could
write me, and then he left. "Oh, what can we do?" everyone asked. "Please don't
leave, Molly; you can't go back with your father," I told her. "Well, I wish I
could stay here, but he is my father." "Where has he been for a whole year? Why
didn't he write to you?" "Maybe, he didn't know where I was," Molly answered. "I
love you, Molly; we all do. We are a family now." It was a sad night.
At
morning light there was the knock at the door again. Molly had her bag packed. I
told her to hide; she didn't. When I opened the door, the sheriff said, "Becky,
go get your father." Pa was out back and came quickly into the house. "I need to
talk to you in private," the officer said. They went back outside. Molly's
father had been shot dead and robbed. The news was very hard on Molly; she
became sick with grief for several months. A thorough investigation was
conducted, but no one was ever caught. Apparently it was the robbery of a rich
stranger in town.
**continue**
