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"The last time I saw you," said Nora, "you were calling poor old England all sorts of dreadful names. Isn't farming in Canada all your fancy painted it?" Gertie paused in the act of pouring water from the kettle into the dishpan. "Not a bit like it," she said dryly. "He's like most of the English I've run up against.
"I do not forget myself, Aunt Grace. If I am not to go quite off my head, I must know the truth." "Sit down, Nora." "I cannot sit; please put me out of suspense. Please tell me the worst at once." "I am sorry for you, dear; I really am." "Oh, please, please speak! Is anything anything wrong with father?" "I hope nothing serious." "Ah! I knew it," said Nora; "there is something wrong."
All the morning he had been trying to keep Nora Glynn out of his mind, but now, as he rambled, he could not put back the memory of the day he met her for the first time, nearly two years ago, for to-day was the fifteenth of May; it was about that time a little later in the year; it must have been in June, for the day was very hot, and he had been riding fast, not wishing to keep Catherine's dinner waiting, and as he pushed his bicycle through the gate, he saw the great cheery man, Father Peter, with a face like an apple, walking up and down under the sycamores reading his breviary.
As the class was large, fifteen girls from the entire number had been chosen to deliver essays and addresses. Among these were Anne, Eleanor, Grace, Miriam and Nora. "I'm just as well satisfied that I was not chosen," Jessica whispered to Eva Allen, as Grace stepped forward to deliver the salutatory address. "It's easy to see who is first in the hearts of Oakdale," returned Eva.
"When are they going to begin?" said Nora. "I don't know. Oh, by and by. I suppose we shall have tea and coffee first. People at a party must get through that." To await this proceeding, and indeed to share in it, the little company adjourned to the drawing-room. It was filling fast.
I let go at him, and we had it out. His second shot hit me and my third hit him. How badly I don't know, but he plainly had enough and got away without even picking up his rifle. It is out there yet, unless he returned for it." "Did you follow him?" asked Nora. "A few yards only, then I got dizzy and had to sit down for a few moments. That is all I know about it.
"He couldn't be anything else, being Dick Courtlandt's boy," volunteered Harrigan, with enthusiasm. "It runs in the family." "It seems strange," observed Nora, "that I never heard you mention that you knew a Mr. Courtlandt." "Why, Nora, there's a lot of things nobody mentions unless chance brings them up. Courtlandt the one I knew has been dead these sixteen years.
My word! there's nothing to come anigh her ever I saw! And there she was, a-kissing our little Dolly, like e'er a one of us!" "What do you make out her name to be?" said Mr. Jerry. "Sister Nora called her Gwen," replied Mo, speaking the name mechanically but firmly. "But what the long for that may be, I couldn't say. 'Tain't Gwenjamin, anyhow." He stopped to light his pipe.
I can make you no promises just now; but I respect you, my dear, and I will certainly do something what I cannot possibly tell you, for I must look into this matter for myself. But I will do this: I will go to O'Shanaghgan this week and see my sister, and find out from the Squire what really is wrong." "You will?" said Nora. She thought quickly.
She also put a last touch to the pretty furniture and placed vases of her own roses and sweet peas here and there, to render the place homelike and to welcome the expected arrivals. "If they don't like it," said the girl, smiling, "they're rather hard to please." "They're sure to like it, dear," answered old Nora, touching with sensitive fingers the flowers, the books and the opened piano.
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