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Updated: July 24, 2025
Abbie's got a hair breastpin and a tortoise shell comb, but she only wears 'em to the Congregationalist meetin'-house, where she's reasonably sure there ain't likely to be any sneak-thieves. She went to a Unitarian sociable once, but she carried 'em in a bag inside her dress."
This question of how she should appear on this first evening had been one of Ester's puzzles; it would hardly do to don her blue silk at once, and she had almost decided to choose the black one; but Abbie's laugh and shrug of the shoulder had settled the question of silks. So now she stood in confused indecision before her open trunk. Abbie came to the rescue.
"I suppose he hasn't an idea what to say to me," was her last compassionate thought, as Abbie's hand rested on the knob. "I hope he won't be hopelessly quiet, but I'll manage in some way."
We confidently expect the stock will sell at 20 before the week is out. We shall be glad to receive your further orders as well as those of any of your friends. Abbie's heart gave a bound; the blood mounted to the roots of her hair. "Fifteen twenty why why! that's two hundred dollars for me after paying Mr. Taylor." The chill of doubt was over now. The fever of hope had set in. "Two hundred!
Foster would be at the prayer-meeting, and not at the concert; that was reason enough for your enjoyment." The rich blood surged in waves over Abbie's face during this rude address; but she said not a single word in answer. After a little silence, she spoke in a voice that trembled with feeling. "Ester, there is one thought in connection with this subject that troubles me very much.
Yet even while Ester queried, he passed his glass for a third filling, and taking note just then of Abbie's quick, pained look, then downcast eyes, and deeply flushing face, the knowledge came suddenly that in that wine-glass the mischief lay.
There was a little gleam of mischief in Abbie's eyes as she answered: "Will you tell me, Ester, why you would take the trouble to get 'these things' if you do not care for them in the least?" "Why because because they would be proper and befitting my station in life." "Do I dress in a manner unbecoming to my station in life."
Nothing but self-sacrifice, to leave a sickly child to all the advantages that wealth could give it? Well, a month afterward, in spite of wealth, your son died." At this announcement, Abbie's convulsive strength, which had thus far served to keep her erect and motionless, exhaled itself in a long groan, and left her placid and nerveless.
Bressant had certainly been looking in her direction as she spoke; he had the opposite place to her at table; but instead of replying, even with a motion of the head, he, after a moment, turned to Professor Valeyon, who was gently oscillating himself in the rocking-chair he always occupied at meals, and asked him whether he knew any thing about a place in town called "Abbie's Boarding-house."
"And he's staying at your house, and under your dear father's care?" "Yes, he is now. Before his accident he was boarding at Abbie's, down in the village. She would have been very kind to him, of course, but I suppose he'd rather be at our house, because papa can always be at hand."
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