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I’ve had some painful news, and I shall wear mourning for a long, long time.” “Oh, Miss, it’s not Mr. David! nor yet one of those sweet relations in Utica? leastways not I hope that beautiful Miss Gertrude, with such hair as I never see for the goldness of it and not dyed, except me cousin that’s a nun, that her mother actually cried when it was cut off?” “No, Johannah; only a very dear friend.”
Gauche spoiled so last winter?” “It’s laid away, Miss, the same in the cedar chest as the day it came home from her hands and no more fit, that I’d be a shame meself and no claims to a dress-maker. And there’s many a lady that she never would have seen a cent, let alone making herself pay for the spiling of it.” “Well, well, Johannah, never mind. Get it out, we’ll see what can be done with it.
“Yes, Miss,” said Johannah, coming into the room and depositing a gown on which she had been working, on the back of a chair. “It’s that postman,” she said, as she fastened her needle to the bosom of her dress. “And such a one as he is, thinking that people must fly when he so much as touches the bell, and going off a writing of ‘no answer to bell,’ and me with my hand on the very door-knob.”
But she grew a shade paler and looked long into the fire. When she had read it three times she folded it slowly and carefully and locked it away in her desk. “Johannah.” “Yes, Miss.” “Put that gown away; I shan’t need it.” “Yes, Miss; and all the beautiful passmantry that you bought?” “It makes no difference, I shan’t use it. What’s become of that black camel’s-hair that Mrs.
"The testimony of Daniel Wescote saith that some years since my wife & Goodwife Clauson agreed to change their spinning, & instead of half a pound Goodwife Clawson sent three quarters of a pound I haueing waide it, carried it to her house & cnvinced her of it yt it was so, & thence forward she till now took occation upon any frivolous matter to be angry & pick a quarrill with booth myself & wife, & some short time after this earning ye flex, my eldest daughter Johannah was taken suddenly in ye night shrecking& crying out, There is a thing will catch me, uppon which I got up & lit a candle, & tould her there was nothing, she answerd, yees there was, there tis, pointing with her finger sometimes to one place & sometimes to another, & then sd tis run under the pillow.
Melicent would have thought it beneath her to more than look her contempt as Mrs. Van Wycke rose with a triumphant laugh to take her place at a higher table, dragging the plastic Bloomdale with her. But she did mutter to herself now, “nasty thief.” “Johannah,” Melicent called to her maid who sat sewing in the next room. “Yes, Miss.” “You know Mrs. Van Wycke?” “Mrs.
“I notice that always happens when I’m out, Johannah; he’s ringing again.” It was Thérèse’s letter, and as Melicent turned it about and looked critically at the neatly written address, it was not without a hope that the reading of it might furnish her a moment’s diversion. She did not faint. The letter did not “fall from her nerveless clasp.” She rather held it very steadily.
Or it was that “Hospital” meeting where she thought certain members were secretly conniving at her removal from the presidency which she had held for so many years. She was always reading minutes at assemblages which Melicent knew nothing about; or introducing distinguished guests to Guild room meetings. Altogether Melicent saw very little of Mrs. Manning. “Johannah, don’t you hear the bell?”
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