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"You will be surprised to hear, a fashion plate! And that is not all. By her own confession, she was studying it in order to conform to the prevailing style of dress. Hadn't you a better opinion of her?" "I certainly had," was aunt Abigail's half smiling, half grave reply. "Why, what harm is there in following the fashions, aunt?" Mary asked. "A great deal, my dear.

Accordingly, Peggy followed without protest, while the other girls, relieved by the mere suggestion of a definite program, hurried into the house and up the stairs to Aunt Abigail's room. A moment later they reappeared, each bearing something selected from Aunt Abigail's belongings.

Miss Abigail's sanitary stores, including a bottle of opodeldoc, were never called into requisition. The six black silk patches, with their elastic strings, are still dangling from a beam in the garret of the Nutter House, waiting for me to get into fresh difficulties. "Tom Brown's School Days at Rugby"

"It's more than likely that she isn't home yet. You know she never thinks anything about the time if she's interested." As Amy's conjecture was based on an intimate knowledge of Aunt Abigail's peculiarities, no one was surprised to find it correct.

The door of Miss Abigail's bedroom opened hastily, and that pink of maidenly propriety stepped out into the hail in her night-gown the only indecorous thing I ever knew her to do. She held a lighted candle in her hand and looked like a very aged Lady Macbeth. "O Dan'el, this is dreadful! What do you suppose it means?"

To surrender the hope of Dorothy was to leave something in my life unfinished; and that was contrary to my tenacious purpose. I could not hear Abigail's voice without comparing it to the softer modulations of Dorothy's. I could not be in the presence of Abigail without feeling that there was something more kindred to me in the personality of Dorothy.

Sarah had two children beside little Amos, a boy born in August whom they had named Jonas. Dorothy had come from Nashville to help Sarah with the heavy household burdens that were now upon her. I saw a good deal of Dorothy at Reverdy's; she came to my house on occasions when I entertained. She was as lovely as ever, but she did not have Abigail's mind.

And now to be seized and passed from hand to hand like a box of candy, while people kissed and cried over her, was too much for her long-tried temper. She screamed and struggled and finally put a stop to further affectionate demonstrations by slapping Amy with one hand, while with the other she knocked off Aunt Abigail's spectacles. "She's tired to death, poor little angel," cried Mrs.

Aunt Abigail though heartily approving the plan, begged off from joining the party. "Dorothy and I are not quite old enough yet to be of much assistance," she said with a funny little grimace. "We lack the patience that will come with years." "But, Aunt Abigail," Ruth protested, "you couldn't stay here all by yourself. You'd be lonely." Aunt Abigail's laugh indicated derision.

Instead he placed the point carefully, though lightly, above the victim's heart, and then, suddenly, bore his weight upon the blade. Abigail Prim always had been a thorn in the flesh of her stepmother a well-meaning, unimaginative, ambitious, and rather common woman. Coming into the Prim home as house-keeper shortly after the death of Abigail's mother, the second Mrs.