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"I think," said Faith to her mother, as the boy was heard mounting the stairs to the nursery, right foot foremost all the way, "that Mahala doesn't manage Hendie as she ought. She keeps him in a fret. I hear them in the morning while I am dressing. She seems to talk to him in a taunting sort of way." "What can we do?" exclaimed Mrs. Gartney, worriedly. "These changes are dreadful.
Gartney crossed the hall from parlor to sitting room, a light step came over the front staircase. Faith passed her father, with a downcast look, as he motioned with his hand toward the room where Paul stood, waiting. The bright color spread to her temples as she glided in. She held, but did not wear, the little turquoise ring. Paul saw it, as he came forward, eagerly.
Gartney to undertake again some sort of lucrative business, after business should have revived from its present prostration; and that a year or two, perhaps, of economizing in the country, might make it possible for them to return, if they chose, to the house in Hickory Street. There were leave takings to be gone through questions to be answered, and reasons to be given; for Mrs.
We have all of us, as little girls, read "Rosamond." Now, one of Rosamond's early worries suggests a key to half the worries, early and late, of grown men and women. The silver paper won't cover the basket. Mr. Gartney had spent his years, from twenty-five to forty, in sedulously tugging at the corners. He had had his share of silver paper, too only the basket was a little too big.
But what's the use of asking such a question?" "Because," said Faith, timidly, "I've got a little plan in my head, if you'll only listen to it." "Well, Faithie, I'll listen. What is it?" And then Faith spoke it all out, at once. "That you should give up all your business, father, and let this house, and go to Cross Corners, and live at the farm." Mr. Gartney started to his elbow.
So a family group, only, gathered in the hillside parlor, on the fair May morning wherein good, venerable Mr. Holland said the words that made Faith Gartney and Roger Armstrong one. It was all still, and bright, and simple. Glory, standing modestly by the door, said within herself, "it was like a little piece of heaven."
"She's just heavenly!" said Glory to herself, standing at the back door, and gazing with a rapturous admiration at Faith's upturned face. "And the dinner's all ready, and I'm thankful, and more, that the custard's baked so beautiful!" "Sits the wind in that corner?" "For courage mounteth with occasion." The lassitude that comes with spring had told upon Mr. Gartney.
Everything was flat. Mr. Gartney must wait. Mrs. Gartney and Faith felt, though they talked of waiting, that the prospect really before them was that of a careful, obscure life, upon a very limited income. The house in Mishaumok had stood vacant all the summer. There was hope, of course, of letting it now, as the winter season came on, but rents were falling, and people were timid and discouraged.
Gartney come back from Sedgely," said Aunt Etherege, looking from her window, between the blinds. "Whom on earth has he picked up to bring with him?" A thin, angular figure of a woman, destitute of crinoline, wearing big boots, and a bonnet that ignored the fashion, and carrying in her hand a black enameled leather bag, was alighting as she spoke, at the gate.
"I'm afraid you'll hardly find any efficient girl who will appreciate the chance of going twenty miles into the country." "I don't want an efficient girl. I'm efficient myself, and that's enough." "Going to train another, at your time of life, aunt?" asked Mrs. Gartney, in surprise.
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