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Updated: June 25, 2025
Thus nicely packed away, we started on down the Riverfield ribbon at the head of the procession, followed by Uncle Silas driving Aunt Mary's rockaway, with his beautiful, dappled, shining, gray mules hitched to it, and beside him sat Mrs. Addcock in serene confidence in being driven by a man who could drive a bank and a post-office and a grocery.
"Polly Beesley wears shoe-tops and she's seventeen and goes to the city to dance. And Miss Bess' and yours are shoe-tops, too." "Now you see what it is to raise a child to be led into sin and vanity," said Mrs. Addcock, looking at me reproachfully from her seat upon the floor at the feet of the worldly Mamie. "I'll turn up the hem just right, Mrs.
I just can't keep up with these city notions of my children with five of 'em and a weak back." As she grumbled Mrs. Addcock rose slowly from her lowly position to her feet. "I'll make Willie's trousers, Mrs. Addcock, this afternoon, if he'll come and help me feed and bed everything at Elmnest," I offered, with my mouth full of pins. "No, child, but thank you for your willing heart. Mrs.
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