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The little woman plainly had forgotten us. She was no longer Mrs. Jonas Whitermore among a crowd of strangers listening to a great man's Old-Home-Day speech. She was just a loving, heart-hungry, tired, all-but-discouraged wife hearing for the first time from the lips of her husband that he knew and cared and understood.
Here the end holds good in art, but the art was not good from the first. But then, again, neither does Bill Sikes experience a change of heart, nor Jonas Chuzzlewit; and the end of each is most excellently told. George Meredith said that the most difficult thing to write in fiction was dialogue.
But in walked this little plump, soft-footed woman, with her banded hair, her benevolent spectacles, and her atmosphere of calm. "I guess I'll blaze a fire, Jonas," said she. "You step out an' git me a mite o' kindlin'." The air of homely living enwrapped him once again, and mechanically, with the inertia of old habit, he obeyed.
"Jonas sent me some dear pink rosebuds for the evening but he isn't coming himself. He said he had to lead a prayer-meeting in the slums! I don't believe he wanted to come. Anne, I'm horribly afraid Jonas doesn't really care anything about me. And I'm trying to decide whether I'll pine away and die, or go on and get my B.A. and be sensible and useful."
This upset the good man not a little, and convinced him that Jonas was in a state of extreme wickedness. "Are you a Christian?" "Wal, I 'low I am. How about yourself, Mr. Hall?" "I believe you are a New Light. Now, do you believe in the Lord Jesus Christ?" asked the minister in an annihilating tone.
But they will not keep very long, unless you make a cabinet expressly for them." "I can't make a cabinet," said Rollo. "O, yes, you can, a frost-cabinet," said Jonas. "How?" asked Rollo. "Why, you must go down near the brook, in the middle of the winter, and make a little room of snow. Then you must get a large piece of thin, clear ice from a still place in the brook, and fix it in for a window.
She could walk very well, but Jonas took such delight in carrying her that he seldom appeared to recognize her ability to use her legs. She could also talk, but how much her parents did not know.
'If he could kill me with a wish, thought the swindler, 'I should not live long. He resolved that when he should have had his use of Jonas, he would restrain him with an iron curb; in the meantime, that he could not do better than leave him to take his own way, and preserve his own peculiar description of good-humour, after his own uncommon manner.
That far I'm prepared to go; but when it comes to figures, I'd very much like to hear your ideas. This is a bit out of my experience; but I warn you, you've got to pay money." "I know that," answered Jonas. "I know that very well indeed. I can't pay half nor yet a quarter of what she'd be worth to me, for the reason a king's ransom wouldn't do it; but money I will pay.
He went off of the bridge, therefore, and began to look about for a stick. He had just found one, when all at once he heard a noise in the bushes. He looked up suddenly, not knowing what was coming, but in a moment saw Jonas walking along towards him. "Ah, Jonas," said Rollo, "are you going home?" "Yes," said Jonas, "unless you will go for me." "Well," said Rollo, "what do you want me to get?"
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