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"No, ma'am, they're all nicely, except the youngest; and it's on account of her don't you remember her, sir, growing so fast, when you was last at the Rectory? that I'm up in London. "Is the child ill?" asked Valentine anxiously. "She's such a picturesque little creature, Lavvie! I long to paint her." "I'm afraid, sir, she's not fit to be put into a picter now," said Mrs. Peckover. "Mrs.
He went up at once to his wife's room. As he opened the door, he started, and stopped on the threshold. Madonna was sitting on the couch by her adopted mother, with her face hidden on Mrs. Blyth's bosom, and her arms clasped tight round Mrs. Blyth's neck. "Have you ventured to tell her all, Lavvie?" he asked. Mrs.
Valentine, as usual, persisted at first in looking exclusively at the bright side of the question, and made light of the doctor's authority accordingly. "Lavvie and I love each other dearly," he said with a little trembling in his voice, but with perfect firmness of manner.
Will you make the third, Lavvie?" inquired Valentine, shuffling the cards. "It's no use asking Zack; he can't even count yet." "No, thank you, dear. I shall have quite enough to do in going on with my book, and trying to keep master Mad-Cap in order while you play," replied Mrs. Blyth. The game began. It was a regular custom, whenever Mrs. Peckover came to Mr.
If Lavvie and I had had such an angel of a child as that," continued Valentine, clasping his hands together fervently, "deaf and dumb as she is, we should have thanked God for her every day of our lives!" Mrs. Peckover was apparently not much used to hear such sentiments as these from strangers. She stared up at Mr. Blyth with two big tears rolling over her plump cheeks. "Mrs. Peckover!
We'll have a regular little academy," continued Valentine, putting down his palette and brushes, and rubbing his hands in high glee; "and if it isn't too much for Lavvie, the evening studies shall take place in her room; and she shall draw, poor dear soul, as well as the rest of us. There's an idea for you, Zack! Mr.
Oh, doctor, doctor! think how kind Lavvie would be to that afflicted little child; and try if you can't make Mrs. Peckover consent. I can't speak any more I know I'm wrong to burst out in this way; and I beg all your pardons for it, I do indeed! Speak to her, doctor pray speak to her directly, if you don't want to make me miserable for the rest of my life!"
"Zack," he said, speaking in an undertone to young Thorpe, who had been listening to Mat's last speech, and observing his production of the fan, in silent curiosity and surprise. "Zack, I'll run up stairs with the fan to Lavvie at once, so as not to seem careless about your friend's gift. Mind you do the honors of the supper table with proper hospitality, while I am away."
I feel, too, when you come and see us, almost more than at other times, how inexpressibly precious the daughter whom you have given to us is to Lavvie and me; and I think with more dread than I well know how to describe, of the horrible chance, if anything was incautiously said, and carried from mouth to mouth about where you met with her mother, for instance, or what time of the year it was, and so forth that it might lead, nobody knows how, to some claim being laid to her, by somebody who might be able to prove the right to make it."
This, at the beginning, had been bitter enough; but as time went on it became apparent that Sara was a leader, too, and not because she could make herself disagreeable, but because she never did. "There's one thing about Sara Crewe," Jessie had enraged her "best friend" by saying honestly, "she's never 'grand' about herself the least bit, and you know she might be, Lavvie.
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