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"I feel better than I generally do in the morning. I haven't coughed any more, if I have as much, and I am holding my dress up high, and you know how warm the factory is. It will be enough sight warmer than it is at home. It is cold at home." "Lloyd don't have to save coal," said Abby, bitterly, "but that don't alter the fact of your getting your skirts draggled."
It would be impossible for me to be the criminal but I will answer your ridiculous query I did not." "Mrs, Embury, did you?" "N no but I would rather be suspected, than to have " "You said no, I believe," Stone interrupted her. "Miss Ames, do you really think you killed your niece's husband?" "Oh, sir I don't know! I can't think I did " "Of course, you didn't, Aunt Abby!"
Thus the father's calculation proved but too prophetical. Mr. Dryden died the first of May 1701, and was interred in Westminster Abby.
"Just out in the country a piece, Lois," replied Mrs. Daggett evasively. "Well, I guess I'll git in and ride a ways with you," said Lois Daggett. "Cramp your wheel, Abby," she added sharply. "I don't want to git my skirt all dust." Miss Daggett was wearing a black alpaca skirt and a white shirtwaist, profusely ornamented with what is known as coronation braid.
But in those cases, the saints took very good care that nothing should happen to them. She did not know what the saints did in this country, or indeed, if there were any. "Oh, Maree!" cried Abby, scandalised. "I guess I wouldn't talk like that, if I was you. You you, ain't a papist, are you, a Catholic?" Oh, no! Mere Jeanne was of the Reformed religion, and had brought Marie up so.
"Aw do." "Make him, Mother," said Abby indignantly. "It's the Queen's BIRTHDAY!" "Time enough when the butter bill's paid," said Mrs Murchison. "Oh the BUTTER bill! Say, Father, aren't you going to?" "What?" asked John Murchison, and again took out his pipe, as if this were the first he had heard of the matter. "Give us our fifteen cents each to celebrate with.
Oh, I wish I had my mother back; then I should not be kicked and whipped so. Who made me so?" "God," answered James. "Did God make you?" "Yes." "Who made Aunt Abby?" "God." "Who made your mother?" "God." "Did the same God that made her make me?" "Yes." "Well, then, I don't like him." "Why not?" "Because he made her white, and me black. Why didn't he make us BOTH white?"
Marilla replied that it was of no consequence; she hoped he would call again. She may have spoken primly, but her pretty eyes said everything that her lips forgot. "My grandmother will want to see you, sir," she ventured to say. "I guess you will remember her, Mis' Hender, she that was Abby Harran. She has often told me how you used to get your lessons out o' the same book."
Colonel Allen, to make him marry Abby Grant when she gets growed. I 'spise her, and I want her to go to New York. There's where the husbands and wives go." Miss Louise laughed. "Very well," said she; "you may give the money to 'Mr. Colonel, and I've no doubt you can persuade him to marry any one you please."
So Abby went away to the West, to tend her sister, and Jacques and Marie De Arthenay began their life together. It was not so very terrible, Marie found after a while. Of course a person could not always help it, to have the evil eye; it had happened that even the best of persons had it, and sometimes without knowing it.
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