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Roger was much struck by the peculiar smile with which Mr. Jocelyn regarded his wife as she uttered these words. "Lemme show you what Aunty Wheaton gave me dis mornin'," lisped Fred, pulling Roger up. As he rose he caught a glimpse of Mildred's face, and saw that she was regarding her mother and father in undisguised horror. Something was evidently wrong fearfully wrong.
'He's going to be married! There's news for you. The first of the flock, Aunty, so say good-bye to him. Her name is Ludmilla Heldegard Blumenthal; good family, well-off, pretty, and of course an angel. The dear old boy wants Uncle's consent, and then he will settle down to be a happy and an honest burgher. Long life to him! 'I'm glad to hear it.
I thought at first as he used to call 'Annie' in his sleep the nights after we have dumplin's, but it ain't 'Annie' he says; it's 'Aunty, an' heaven knows a aunt never broke no man's heart yet." Susan rose to go home. "I'm glad the Fourth's over, anyway," she said as she took up her parasol and mitts.
In her secret soul, Aunty Nan, sweet and frail and timid under the burden of her seventy years, felt with mysterious unmistakable prescience that it was to be her last summer at the Gull Point Farm. But that was only the more reason why she should go to hear little Joscelyn sing; she would never have another chance.
William told Avonlea folk that Aunty Nan had got terribly childish and always accompanied the remark with a sigh that intimated how much she, Mrs. William, had to contend with. Justice must be done to Mrs. William, however. She was not unkind to Aunty Nan; on the contrary, she was very kind to her in the letter. Her comfort was scrupulously attended to, and Mrs.
I was just telling Mab about it when you came in. Six o'clock! cried Captain George, starting up as the chimes rang out. 'I must be off. If I'm late at barracks my colonel will parade me to-morrow, and go down my throat, spurs, boots and all. 'Wait a moment, Captain Pendle, and I'll come with you. 'But your headache, aunty? remonstrated Mab. 'My dear, a walk in the fresh air will do me good.
"Polly, you won't leave me, will you, till I get able to sit up?" cried Mrs. Whitney one day, a week after. "No, Aunty, indeed I won't," declared Polly, leaning over to drop a kiss on the soft hair against the pillows. Mrs. Whitney put up her hands to draw down the young face. "Oh, Aunty!" exclaimed Polly in dismay, "be careful; you know doctor said you mustn't raise your arms."
Because I'm not good, is no reason why He isn't." "Amen!" cried the old lady, with Methodistic fervor. "What are you saying amen to? that I'm not good?" "Oh, I imagine we all average about alike," was her grim reply "the more shame to us all!" "Dear, conscience-stricken old aunty!" said Graham, smiling at her. "Will nothing ever lay your theological ghosts?" "No, Alford," she said, gravely.
The foolish risk of losing so valuable a piece of property as Daniel Boone ought to be in the slave-market taxed his powers of understanding, profanity, and abuse. "Cussin' solid, an' in streaks," Aunty Boone chuckled, softly, as she listened to him unmoved. Equally unmoved was Esmond Clarenden.
Patty said no more then, but later in the afternoon she remembered this permission, and resolved to try if aunty would find out her good doings as well as her bad ones. So, tucking Blanch Augusta Arabella Maud under one arm, her best picture-book under the other, and gathering a little nosegay of her own flowers, she slipped across the road, knocked, and marched boldly upstairs. Mrs.
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