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"Do you call these 'the people'?" she asked. "I haven't the least idea. I don't know who any of them are, not even who Mrs. Henry Burrage is, I simply received an invitation." Miss Chancellor gave him no information on the point he had mentioned; she only said, in a moment: "Do you go wherever you are invited?" "Why, I go if I think I may find you there," the young man replied gallantly.
Burrage, too well! Is Mr. Laurence Fairfax at home?" "I am sorry to say that he is not, ma'am. May I make bold to ask if the young lady is Miss Fairfax from Abbotsmead, that was expected?" Bessie confessed to her identity, and while Mrs. They were interrupted by that rude little boy, who came running back into the court with Sally in pursuit.
The carriage, turning in at the gate, stopped the conversation, and Chrystie rose and sauntered to the top of the steps. Mother Burrage, in her new black silk mantle, bought through a catalogue, and a perfect fit, came up the path, Mark and Lorry behind her. Mark waved a greeting hand and Lorry called instructions please tell Fong to bring out something cold to drink and tell Aunt Ellen and Mrs.
Gray, respectable men, with daughters married, leaped over fences and sprang back, prominent legislators hopped howling up and down door-steps, women waved handkerchiefs from windows and porches, the chattering Jode flew from anemometer to rain-gauge, and old Judge Burrage apostrophized Providence in his front yard, with the postmaster's label still pinned to his back.
Barker, leaning on his cane, had been silent: "Burrage of Dorsetshire!" said he; "I'll soon see whether she be or no; for Hetty has a wart on her chin that I cannot forget, let her forget whom and what she pleases." Mr. Barker, who was a plain-spoken, determined man, followed the young lady to the recess; and, after looking her full in the face, exclaimed in a loud voice, "Here's the wart!
Olive listened in serious silence; she saw Verena was quite carried away; of course she hadn't gone so far with her without knowing that phase. "Did Mr. Burrage try to make love to you?" Miss Chancellor inquired at last, without a smile.
My God! don't you speak!" cried Lady Diana, in a voice of terror. "The young lady is bashful, my lady, among strangers," said Mrs. Bertrand. "Oh, Hester Burrage, is this kind of thee?" said Dinah Plait, with in accent of mixed sorrow and affection; "but thou art my niece, and I forgive thee." "A cheesemonger's niece!" cried Lady Diana, with horror; "how have I been deceived!
"Your mission is not to exhibit yourself as a pastime for individuals, but to touch the heart of communities, of nations." "Dear madam, I'm sure Miss Tarrant will touch my heart!" Mr. Burrage objected, gallantly. "Well, I don't know but she judges you young men fairly," said Mrs. Tarrant, with a sigh. Verena, diverted a moment from her communion with her friend, considered Mr.
She rearranged the sprigs of burrage, made a fresh disposition of the baskets of fruit, whilst both the men watched her open-mouthed, agape at so much loveliness and grace. "And," she added significantly, looking with ill-concealed covetousness at the succulent pasties, "where there's at least one dog or cat about the place."
A similar plan was adopted with the salads of burrage, chicory, marigold leaves, bugloss, asparagus, rocket, and alexanders, and many other plants discontinued in modern cookery, but then much esteemed; oil and vinegar being used with some, and spices with all; while each dish was garnished with slices of hard-boiled eggs.
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