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"Not a bit, little mother," chirped Carette, as they kissed very warmly. "We have been quite happy, though, ma fé, it was as dark and still as the tomb, and there is a spring in there that is enough to frighten one into a fit. And George Hamon here is trying to make us believe this is only Thursday, and it is certain we have been in there at least a week." "It is only Thursday," smiled my mother.
"Ma," exclaimed Rosebud, after a long and unusual silence while she was washing up the breakfast things, and Mrs. Sampson was busy with some cleaning at the other side of the kitchen, "do you ever get tired of your work here? Your life, I mean?" It was early morning. Already the heat in the kitchen was intense. Ma looked hot, but then she was stooping and polishing, and the flies were provoking.
A chum of mine who knew the ways of these people had advised me to purchase a horn of snuff before being presented to the bride and groom, and I had acted accordingly. When the ceremony of introduction was over, and I had managed to turn my blushing face away from "Ma" and the bevy of damsels, as airily clothed as herself, I offered the snuff box to the happy pair.
She told me the other day she was sure Danny was going to be a doctor. She bases her hopes on the questions that Danny asks. How do you know you haven't got a gizzard? How would you like to be ripped clean up the back? and Where does your lap go to when you stand up? She said, "Ma and us all have hopes o' Danny." Mrs. Francis has a new role, that of matchmaker, though I don't suppose she knows it.
There is a moon, and the hills ver' clear and we gallop." "I am minding," said Margaret. "'It is Romance, I say to him, and he will be carrying me away off to the hills, and he is laughing. "'An unwilling captive, he says. "'Not ver' unwilling, I say, for he looked ver' gallant. "'I do not beg even kisses, very proudly he looks, ma belle, and his blue eyes laughing. . . ."
I lost ma temper, sometimes. Whiles I'd say things to an audience that were no so, that were unfair. If I was unjust to any in those days, I'm sorry. But they maun understand that ma heart was in France, wi' them that was deein' and suffering new tortures every day. I'd seen what I was talking of.
Oceans," says Trix, opening her eyes to the size of saucers; "and I don't know really which of us ma likes best, Nellie or me. That's my one comfort in going. Here comes Charley now let's have tea at once. I forgot all about it, but nobody has the faintest idea of the pangs of hunger I am enduring." Charley sauntered in, looking fresh and handsome, from the night air. It was quite dark now.
"Your father's out of sight now, and you can run along to the store and get the meal." "You're a good 'un, Miss," declared Sophie, nodding. "Come and see the baby. She's awful pretty, but ma says she's rickety. Good-bye." The little girl was away like the wind, her broken shoes clattering over the flagstones. Janice looked after her and sighed. There seemed a sudden weight pressing upon her mind.
As he did this, our eyes met in the looking-glass; whereupon he turned hastily back to the window, and stood there whistling till it occurred to him to ring the bell again. "Monsieur rang?" said the footman, once more making his appearance at the door. "Mort de ma vie! yes. The Seltzer-water." "I have sent for it, Monsieur le Vicomte." "And it is not yet come?" "Not yet, Monsieur le Vicomte."
I do not know what put it into my head to ask: "I say, have you by any chance run across a painter called Charles Strickland?" "You don't mean to say you know him?" cried Stroeve. "Beast," said his wife. Stroeve laughed. <i "Ma pauvre cherie."> He went over to her and kissed both her hands. "She doesn't like him. How strange that you should know Strickland!" "I don't like bad manners," said Mrs.
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