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In all the years that she had lived under his roof, he had never conquered his morbid dread that Madonna might be one day traced and discovered by her father, or by relatives, who might have a legal claim to her. Under this apprehension he had written to Doctor Joyce and Mrs.
Luckily, several doctors had been passengers on the train, and as they were uninjured they took charge of all who needed their aid. Finally a train backed down to take the passengers to Rockvale, the next town of importance. Richard hardly knew what to do. If Mr. Joyce was hurt it was certainly his duty to remain.
"Who is he that tall young fellow over by that curtain?" he could not refrain from asking his granddaughter. How, he was thinking to himself, how could such a big, vigorous young man betray such a range of trivial interests? "Why, grandpa," Preciosa had returned reproachfully, "that's Mr. Joyce Abner Joyce, the great writer. You've heard of him, surely?" "H'm," said Jeremiah. He hadn't.
Perhaps it would be well to ask advice of this lady. "If you please," said Little Joyce, who was never shy with strangers, for whose opinion she didn't care at all, "I want to see Madame Laurin at the hotel and ask her to do me a very great favour. Will you tell me the best way to go about seeing her? I shall be much obliged to you."
Joyce cried out at this, the wide, mobile mouth trembling. "Just now. At the Gusher," said Bob. "They didn't arrest you?" "Not yet. They're watchin' the house. Sit down, and I'll tell it to you." He had gone out to see a homesteader about doing some work for him.
The final term examination in literature was listed for Friday morning, and Judith had planned to spend all her spare time between now and then in the thorough revision of her work, for there was still much to be done, and this examination would really decide whether she or Joyce or Phyllis would head the list.
Everybody in the Marshall household was excited on the evening of the concert at the Harbour Light Hotel everybody, even to Little Joyce, who couldn't go to the concert because there wasn't anybody else to stay with Denise.
All the time there came out of that man's lungs the fiercest stream of profanity my ears ever burned under. I was pretty sick for a few weeks, so I never got a chance to thank that teamster. He certainly knew the mind of an army mule, though. His name was let me see Wiggins yes, Wiggins. "'Oh, no it wasn't, I breaks in, foolish; 'it was Joyce.
All that evening, Eli Pike sat on the steps, where he could hear the talk in the sitting-room without losing the whippoorwill's song from the Joyce orchard, and Dilly longed to slip out and sit quietly beside him. He would know. But she could only be civil and grateful, and when half past eight came, take her lamp and go up to bed.
Her heart gave a bound at the thought. Why should she be sitting there longing for fairy tales to be true, when the great Hand that had set the stars to swinging could bring anything to pass; could even open that long-closed gate and bring the brother and sister together again, and send happiness to little Jules? Joyce lifted her eyes again and looked up, out past the stars.
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