United States or South Africa ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Gee, I cried in my hat when I first read that!" Now wasn't it a curious coincidence that, even as Madame, I regarded John Flint with open mouth and eyes, and retired hastily? For some time the Clarion had been getting worse and worse; heaven knows how it managed to appear on time, and we expected each issue to be its last. It wasn't news to Appleboro that it was on its last legs.
She looked unusually pretty there wasn't a girl in Appleboro who didn't envy Madame De Rancé's complexion. "Well," said the Butterfly Man cheerfully, unconsciously falling under the spell of this feminine charm, "the Padre tells me there's a party in the wind. Good! Now what am I to do? How am I to help you out?"
The boy from up-state saw to that. He was wily as the serpent and simple as the dove. Over the local page appeared daily: "LET'S GET TOGETHER!" After awhile we took him at his word and tried to ... and things began to happen in Appleboro. "Here," said the Butterfly Man to me, "is where the bluejay begins to get his."
Maybe I can keep some of those poor kids out of the mills, too. Oh, yes, I expect a right lively time!" I was silent. I knew how supinely Appleboro lay in the hollow of a hard hand. I had learned, too, how such a hand can close into a strangling fist. "Of course I can't clean up the whole state, and I can't reorganize the world," said the boy sturdily. "I'm not such a fool as to try.
In Appleboro the pleasant and prejudiced Old looks askance at the noisy and intruding New, before which, it is forced to retreat always without undue or undignified haste, however, and always unpainted and unreconstructed.
Motto, 'In Hoc Signo Vinces. There'll be no sign of the cyanide jar. I'll have nothing sinister shadowing; the Butterfly Man's escutcheon!" She knew nothing about the trust St. Stanislaus kept; she had never met Slippy McGee. Laurence at last hung out that shingle which was to tingle Appleboro into step with the Time-spirit.
The result of it all was that poise and pride which had so greatly delighted the autocratic old kinswoman whose fiat had set the last seal of social success upon her. When one of life's little jokes flung Hunter into Appleboro and she had to observe him with impartial and less ingenuous eyes, she forgave the simple schoolgirl's natural mistake.
In consequence, towns like Appleboro take on the venerable aspect of antiquity, peacefully drowsing among immemorial oaks draped with long, gray, melancholy moss. Not that we are cut off from the world, or that we have escaped the clutch of commerce. We have the usual shops and stores, even an emporium or two, and street lights until twelve, and the mills and factory.
Then at many windows appeared small faces bearing upon them the mark of the valley of the shadow through which they had just passed. Although they were on side streets in the dingy mill district, far removed from our pleasant windows that looked out upon trees and flowers, all Appleboro was watching these wan visages with wiser and kinder eyes.
"The black dress it shall be," said Mary Virginia, gaily. She turned to my mother. "And what do you think, p'tite Madame? I've a rare butterfly for John Flint, that an English duke gave me for him! The duke is a collector, too, and he'd gotten some specimens from John Flint. The minute he learned I was from Appleboro he asked me all about him.
Word Of The Day