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Dale thought it right to have a long conversation, both with the squire and Miss Jemima herself, upon the subject which his intended convert had so ignominiously escaped. The squire, though a great foe to Popery, politically considered, had also quite as great a hatred to renegades and apostates.
"Woman, fragile flower! why were you suffered to adorn a world exposed to the inroad of such stormy elements?" thought Maria, while the poor maniac's strain was still breathing on her ear, and sinking into her very soul. Towards the evening, Jemima brought her Rousseau's Heloise; and she sat reading with eyes and heart, till the return of her guard to extinguish the light.
"Harry, I'd give L10 to have said that!" "You're quite right, Mother; nothing could be more snobbish!" SQUIRE. "Give us your fist, too, sir; you'll be a chip of the old block, after all." Frank smiled, and walked off to his pony. "Is that the note you were to write for me?" MISS JEMIMA. "Yes; I supposed you did not care about seeing it, so I have sealed it, and given it to George."
"'Gone! Where?" "Your wife and all your children except Jemima have gone back to North Carolina. They all believed you to be dead and your wife felt that she could no longer remain here. Jemima is the only one that stayed."
What now availed Jemima's reproaches, as she remembered the days when he had watched her with earnest, attentive eyes, as he now watched Ruth; and the times since, when, led astray by her morbid fancy, she had turned away from all his advances! "It was only in March last March, he called me 'dear Jemima. Ah, don't I remember it well?
Miss Jemima was simply fearful lest this young girl should, perhaps inadvertently, steal into the place in her brother's heart which belonged to her. As "Cobbler" Horn and his secretary sat in counsel, from time to time, in their respective arm-chairs, at the opposite ends of the office table, neither of them had any suspicion of Miss Jemima's jealous fears.
Miss Jemima, in her great anger, advanced a pace or two, with uplifted hand, towards the broad back of her rebellious cook: "Cobbler" Horn, observing the position of affairs, spoke in emphatic tones. "Jemima, I want you at once." Miss Jemima started, and then, without a word, followed her brother to the dining-room.
"Brother," she cried, "I've often heard of tears of joy; but I didn't think I should live to say they were the only ones I had shed since I was a little child! But there's no mistake about those shoes. And there's no doubt about anything else either." "Cobbler" Horn was, perhaps, quite as confident as his sister; but he was a little more cautious. "Yes, Jemima," he said; "but we must be careful.
"I told Jemima to look at the weathercock," murmured Mrs. Skratdj. "I don't care a fig for Jemima," said her husband. On another occasion Mrs. Skratdj and a lady friend were conversing. * "We met him at the Smith's a gentlemanlike, agreeable man, about forty," said Mrs. Skratdj, in reference to some matter interesting to both ladies. "Not a day over thirty-five," said Mr.
Jemima was the oldest doll of the lot, made of a sort of papier-mache; her hair was painted black and arranged in short fat curls; her face, from frequent washing and punishment, had become of a leaden hue, and was full of dents and bruises; her nose was quite flat, and she had lost one arm; in her best days she had been plain, but she was now hideous. And no wonder!
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