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"All right," said Lydia, with a little sigh. "I know it'll be a hard job," Marshall interpreted the sigh quickly; "that's where the punishment comes in." "Lydia'll do it. I'll see to it," said Amos. "You keep out, Dudley. This is between Lydia and me. How about it, Lydia?" "If you'll boss her mother, I'll boss Margery and Kent," said Lydia, with a sudden laugh. "It's a bargain." Marshall rose.
"I'm real sorry, Miss," repeated the maid. "Miss Lydia'll be sorry, too. Who shall I say, please?" "Miss Dix," replied Ellen. She walked past the maid, who held the door wide for her exit. Then she paused. A surprising sight met her eyes. Lydia Orr, hatless, flushed as if by rapid flight, was just reaching the steps, convoying the strange old man Ellen had met on the road a short time before.
"Don't," he said, and then stopped while Anne knelt beside her and, in a rhythmic way, began to rub one of her hands, and the colonel stared into the fire. "Perhaps if you went upstairs!" Anne said to her gently. "I could really rub you if you were in bed and Lydia'll bring up something nice and hot." "No, no," moaned Esther. "You're keeping me a prisoner. You must let me go."
Dad," sharply, "you aren't going to sell the Last Chance and use that money?" "I closed it up, last week," said Dave shortly. "I'm going to have the place torn down." Margery rubbed her hand over her forehead. "Well," she said, "I don't see that I'd gain anything but a reputation for being a quitter, if I went to Lydia's. I'll stay with you folks, but I'll go to college, if Lydia'll stand by me."
I'd like to pay you something definite for doing it, because I don't see how you're going to live." "Lydia'll help me do it," said Jeff, "she and Anne. They're curiously wise about plays and dances. No, Amabel, I sha'n't eat your money, except what you pay me for evening school. And I have an idea I'm going to get on. I always had the devil's own luck about things, you know.
"There's a rug somewhere by your feet, and Lydia'll do the rest for you. Cl'k, my darling!" Away we bowled. The mare settled down to a beautiful stride and we spun along smoothly over a road which, for a coast road, must have been well laid, or Mr. Rogers's tilbury was hung on exceptionally good springs.
"I wonder how old I'll have to be before you realize I'm grown up, Charlie!" Charlie looked at her critically. "Well, when you're eighteen, maybe." "Lydia'll be twenty-five before she gets through looking like a baby, but Olga's a young lady now," said Kent. He was eying the girls with the air of a connoisseur. "Three peaches, aren't they, Miss Towne?"
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