Two Prisoners — Reading Companion
Edition facts
Before opening Two Prisoners — Reading Companion, the edition data offers a quick orientation: 15,176 words, 1 hr 6 min estimated reading time, and 2 detected text sections.
The text analysis averages about 16.6 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.
Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Friendship -- Juvenile fiction,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.
Calculated from edition completeness, EPUB availability, text structure and catalogue metadata. Not a user rating.
How this score is calculated
- Description quality20 pts
- Title & short description10 pts
- Source metadata20 pts
- Text length15 pts
- Chapters / structure15 pts
- EPUB file integrity20 pts
Total of 100 points, scaled to a 2.5-5.0 range. Editions with an empty description or a missing EPUB file are not scored.
Read the Text
She had once or twice asked Mrs. O'Meath about her mother, but she had soon stopped it. It always made Mrs. O'Meath angry, and she generally got drunk after it and was cross with her.
Sometimes when Mrs. O'Meath got drunk she did not come up-stairs at all during the day. She was always kinder to her next day, however, and explained, with much regret, that she had been sick--too sick to get a mouthful for herself even; but other people who lived in the house told Molly that she was "just drunk," and Molly soon got to know the signs. Mrs. O'Meath would be cross and ugly and made her sew hard. Sometimes she used to threaten her with the Poorhouse. Molly did not know what that was; she just knew it was something dreadful (like a prison, she thought). She could not complain, however, for she knew very well that what Mrs. O'Meath did was out of charity for her and because she had promised some one to look after her. The little sewing Molly was able to do for her was not anything, she knew. Mrs. O'Meath often told her so. And it made her back ache so to sit up.
The rest of the people in the house were so busy they did not have time to trouble themselves about the child, and Mrs. O'Meath was cross with them if they came "poking about," as she called it.
The opening pages of Two Prisoners establish a stark contrast between two worlds. The first excerpt describes a dilapidated house in a cobblestone street, leaning on its neighbors, with windows stuffed with rags and gutters full of slop-water. Inside, a little girl lies in a bed that is “hardly fit to be called a room,” her thin face older than her crooked body. The narrator notes that her “sandy hair was straight and faded; her dark eyes were large and sad.” This precise, sensory description immediately signals that the story will dwell on material deprivation and physical suffering, while the glimpse of a blue sky over a distant elm hints at a world beyond the cramped cupboard.
A City of Two Landscapes
The excerpts repeatedly juxtapose cramped interiors with open, sunlit spaces. Molly’s room looks out over “wretched little shingled houses” and “huge warehouses,” but also catches a patch of blue sky above a “great branching elm” shading a white back-portico. When Mildred leaves Molly’s tenement, she steps into sunlight and feels she has “entered a new world.” The physical movement from dark stairway to bright street becomes a moral passage, as Mildred realizes how different her own lot is from that of the crippled girl. Page uses these shifts in setting to underline the economic gulf between the two children, making geography a measure of privilege.
The Mockingbird as a Fixed Desire
Molly’s wish for a specific mockingbird drives the plot in the later excerpts. Mildred learns that the bird belongs to a widow who “took in sewing” and lives in a third-story back room. Despite offers of double the money, the owner refuses to sell. Mildred’s father suggests buying two birds from a dealer, but Mildred insists Molly wants “that one,” even though she cannot explain why except that it can sing. The bird is not interchangeable; its value is tied to its particular song and location. This detail gives the story a concrete, almost talismanic object, and the refusal to sell introduces a note of resistance from the adult world that Mildred must navigate.
Gifts That Cross Class Lines
Exchange between the two girls is carefully calibrated. Molly gives Mildred a doll’s wardrobe she made herself, and Mildred admires the workmanship. In return, Mildred kisses Molly and promises to return. Later, Mildred’s mother brings a basket of food and cleans the room, and Mildred plans to surprise Molly with the bird. The gifts are not one-sided: Molly’s handmade clothes and her timid request for a kiss show she has something to offer despite her poverty. Page avoids making Molly a passive recipient; her needlework is described as “beautiful,” and Mildred’s admiration is genuine. The reciprocity softens the power imbalance without erasing it.
Voice and the Limits of the Excerpts
The narrative voice in the excerpts is omniscient but restrained, reporting dialogue and action without moralizing. The opening description of Mrs. O’Meath, who “used no liquid in any way except whiskey or beer,” is wry but not judgmental. The excerpts do not reveal how the story resolves—whether Molly recovers, whether the bird is obtained, or how the friendship endures. The reader is left with Mildred’s new awareness of her own privilege and her determination to act. The incomplete text means that the mockingbird’s significance and the fate of both girls remain open questions, inviting the reader to complete the arc from the evidence given.
Because the excerpts break off before the story’s conclusion, a first-time reader should pay close attention to the symbolic weight of the mockingbird and the repeated images of confinement versus freedom. The title Two Prisoners suggests that both girls are trapped—one by illness and poverty, the other by wealth and expectation. Watching how each character defines her own captivity and seeks release will be key to understanding Page’s moral design.
Reading about Molly and Mildred’s mockingbird made me think of my grandfather’s old cage, empty on the fire escape. He used to point out how a sparrow would perch there anyway, unbothered by what wasn’t offered. That quiet pride reminded me of Horatio Alger’s telegraph boy, scrambling for nickels yet never losing his gentle dignity. Mark Mason's Victory: The Trials and Triumphs of a Telegraph Boy — Context and Discussion felt like that same sparrow — small, determined, and somehow enough.
There are no reviews for this eBook.
Your personal reading reflection
Build a private reading journal entry for this title.