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Dick took a day to recover from his fatigue and, after that, shut up in his room, be began to find the time pass heavily away. His mother was engaged in household affairs, and in preparing for the removal, while his father was absent from home until late in the evening, having to make more than one trip to the new farm. Janet came and sat with him frequently.
Her folly has cost me dearly enough. If I go away to live abroad or in New York anywhere to be free of the Howlands why I'll need all I've got properly to establish myself." Janet and her baby left on a later train for the East. Before going she tried to see her mother.
By the time she arrived he had already succeeded in standing up; he even took a distinct step; then he shook himself like a dog just out of water. Like the other lamb, he shook himself down; he hit the ground with rather more decisive a drop. When he had again mastered the difficulties, and achieved his reward, Janet sat down near by and waited to see whether the two would become acquainted.
While Aunt Janet paced restlessly about the lower floor, stopping occasionally to listen at the portal of her brother, Angela Wren lay silent and only sometimes sighing, with faithful Kate Sanders reading in low tone by the bedside. The captains had gone back to their quarters, conferring in subdued voices.
Her voice was odd and thin. Janet hesitated a moment, and ceded. "Well, I'll set the dishes on the table, anyway." Janet had sought refuge, wistfully, in the commonplace. And when the meal was ready she strove to eat, though food had become repulsive. "You must take something, mother," she said. "I don't feel as if I ever wanted to eat anything again," she replied.
I told her we'd do it by dinner-time: Don't you like Janet, Richie? That is, if our horses' hic-haec-hocks didn't get strained on this hard nominative-plural-masculine of the article road. Don't you fancy yourself dining with the captain, Richie? Dative huic, says old Squire Gregory. I like to see him at dinner, because he loves the smell of his wine.
So he kept on until it grew a little darker, and his pony was walking so slowly that Trouble would have found it easy to have walked almost as fast. "What's the matter?" asked Janet, who was riding behind her brother, looking as hard as she could through the darkness for a sight of the rocks, which, once they were reached, almost meant home. "What's the matter, Ted?" "Matter with what, Jan?"
Fond as they were of the squire, they declared war against him in private, they criticized Janet, they thought my aunt Dorothy slightly wrong in making a secret of her good deed: my father was the victim. Their unabated warmth consoled me in the bitterest of seasons. He found a home with them at a time when there would have been a battle at every step.
She laughed tremulously as he took her hand. "Yes indeed, I will," she promised. And she stood awhile staring after him. She was glad he had come to Hampton, and yet she did not even know his name. She had got another place such was the explanation of her new activities Janet gave to Hannah, who received it passively. And the question dreaded about Ditmar was never asked.
At length, upon accurate examination, the infirm state of his wooden prison-house appeared to supply the means of gratifying his curiosity, for out of a spot which was somewhat decayed he was able to extract a nail. Through this minute aperture he could perceive a female form, wrapped in a plaid, in the act of conversing with Janet.
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