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Patrick felt suddenly lonely. "So, Patrick, what's happening?" Patrick looked back from the door. "Oh. I'm trying to find someone named Heidi Merrill. Do you know where she lives?" "Sure do, going right by there, if you want a lift." What the hell, Patrick thought, nothing else to do. It doesn't matter if she's home or not. "Good deal."
Merrill; "we cannot very well soften that shock: I talked the matter over a little with Mr. Merrill, and he thinks that we must take time over it, Miss Penniman. Whatever we do, we must not act hastily." "Well," said Miss Lucretia, "as I said, I am very fond of the girl, and I am willing to do my duty, whatever it may be. And I also wished to say, Mrs.
It was lighter on the uplands than it was in the valley, where the three men sat on their bench, with their backs to the store and the western sky. "Well, here we be 'most into June, an' I 'ain't got a bush-bean above ground," lamented Henry Merrill. "Your land's always late, ain't it? But you always catch up with the rest on us," Asa Brown consoled him.
"My husband," said the girl. "How long have you been married?" demanded the little man. "I ran away with him a long time ago," she said. "It has been an awful life; it was Mr. Crawley's idea. He told me that if I married Mr. Merrill he would take me to see my mother and Jasper. But he was so cruel " She shuddered again.
"Isn't that rather steep?" "No; the cloth is superior quality." "Well, darn the expense. I like it, and must have it. Just measure me, will you?" "Are you ready to pay the account I have against you?" "How much is it?" The tailor referred to his books. "Thirty-two dollars and fifty cents," he answered. "All right, Merrill. Wait till the pants are done, and I'll pay the whole at once."
The cook came down from his fire to see the conflict; Joe lighted his pipe and smoked it out; old Captain Merrill, who lived on the opposite bank, came out and hailed me, "Reckon you've got a big one this time, judge;" and still my line pointed to the bottom of the river, and my hands grew numb with holding the rod.
Merrill still looked like a man of marble and his voice still kept its unnatural tone, level, monotonous, metallic. "If I could only forget the scream that Norton kid gave when he saw the big wave coming. It rings in my head. And the way his mother pressed his head down on her breast oh, my God!" His listeners knew that he was going to say this. They knew the very words in which he would put it.
Ephraim waved his blue handkerchief as the train pulled out, but Jethro stood on the platform, silent and motionless: more eloquent in his sorrow so Mr. Merrill thought than any human being he had ever known. Mr. Merrill wondered if Jethro's sorrow were caused by this parting alone; he believed it was not, and suddenly guessed at the true note of it.
"He he hardly speaks at all, Uncle Jethro." One bright morning after the sun had driven away the frost, when the sumacs and maples beside Coniston Water were aflame with red, Bias Richardson came stealing up the stairs and whispered something to Cynthia. "Dad," she said, laying down her book, "it's Mr. Merrill. Will you see him?" William Wetherell gave her a great fright.
The frank opinion of the director, delivered in impersonal kindness, the Sans found hard to swallow. Self-willed and self-centered, they bore honest criticism very badly. Neither were they appreciative of his offer to aid them in their practice. "I think it is fine in Professor Leonard to offer to help us," ventured Nina Merrill to Joan Myers as the director walked away.
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