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"I’m a fool," he said, in a spirit of annoyance that came so close to anger that it led to an utter loss of patience. "I’ll take the train for Aunt Mary’s to-day, and straighten out that mess in short order." It was Saturday, and he arranged to leave by the noon train.
"She wants this letter took right to the mail," she said to Joshua, Aunt Mary’s longest-tried servitor. "Then it’ll be took right to mail," said Joshua. "She’s pretty mad," said Lucinda. "Then she’ll soon get over it," replied the other, taking up his hat and preparing to depart for the barn forthwith. Lucinda returned to Aunt Mary with a species of dried-up sigh.
The day was solemnly still, exquisitely clear; and between two hills came a glare of gold projected from the Temple of Jerusalem. Through the silence rang the tinkle of the rattles that Mary wore. The prophet was beckoning her. “And Martha?” the tetrarch heard him ask. The pirouette ceased awkwardly. Mary’s eyes forgot their compliments.
Her mother had begged a black kitten from some boys who were going to drown it, and in her last illness she told Mary to be kind to it for her sake. When age and want had destroyed the symmetry of Mary’s fine form, the village began to consider her as one who had dealings with spirits; her cat confirmed the suspicion.
"As a success my entertainment has been a failure," said Mitchell to Jack as they walked up and down the deck after breakfast; "but into each life some rain must fall, and I offer myself as a sacrificial background to Aunt Mary’s glowing, living pictures of New York." "I wish you hadn’t, though," said Jack; "she’ll never want a yacht of her own now.
Janice had the bed open, and a hot-water bottle down where Aunt Mary’s feet might be expected, and all sorts of comfort ready to hand. "I’m so glad to see you safe back," she said, almost weeping. "I don’t believe it’s broke," said Aunt Mary, "but you might look and see. Oh, Granite—I—" she stopped and looked an unutterable meaning. "It stormed, didn’t it?" said the maid.
Janice rose from her knees and, leaning over the bed, drew the old lady close in her arms. "I’ll tell you," she screamed gently. "I loved Jack, and so I loved his aunt even before I had ever seen her." Aunt Mary’s joy fairly overflowed at that view of things, and, putting her hands to either side of the lovely face so close to her own, she kissed it warmly again and again.
He turned to the procurator, who regarded him indifferently, and to the emir, who was toying with Mary’s agate-nailed hand. He had given his word, however; the people had heard. About his ears the perspiration started; from purple he had grown very gray.
"At Hereford," says Walcott, "he found all the lights; three burning day and night before the high altar; two burning there at matins daily, and at mass, and the chief hours on festivals; three burning perpetually, viz., in the chapter-house, the second before S. Mary’s altar, and the third before the cross in the rood-loft; four before the high altar, and altar on "Minus Duplicia," and five tapers in basons, on principles, and doubles, at mass, prime, and second vespers, four tapers before the high altar, five in the basons, thirteen on the beam, and seven in the candelabra; the paschal and portable tapers for processions.
This apparently reasonable request was greeted by a fine chorus of titanic laughter from Mary’s pupils. Mrs. Yellett waved her hand over the surrounding landscape in comprehensive gesture. "Ain’t all this large enough for you?" she asked, gayly. "You mean the mountains? They’re wonderful. But—I really think I’d like to go in the house."
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