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Updated: June 10, 2025
Half-past six was the time settled upon, and, as she knew, it was broad daylight even then. She felt she really dare not, could not go. Suppose her father or Esther, some of her scornful young sisters or brothers, should be about and see the meeting, or any of the neighbours why, she could never survive the shame of it! Yet go she must, or Aldith would despise her.
She put out her little hand and gave the guest's arm in its muslin sleeve a sharp, scientific pinch that Pip had taught her. Then she fled madly away down the long paddocks, to the bit of bush beyond. "Insufferable," Aldith muttered angrily, and it needed all Meg's apologies and coaxings to get her into an amiable frame of mind again, and to induce her to communicate the enthralling secret.
James Graham always comes back on that boat, and the two Courtney boys Andrew Courtney told Beatrice he thought you seemed a nice little thing; he often notices you, he says, because you blush so." "I can't help it," Meg said, unhappily. "Aldith, how ought the ribbon to go on my hat? I'm going to retrim it again." "Oh, square bows, somewhat stiff, and well at the side," the oracle, said.
The wattle-scrub at the end was very quiet; there was not a rustle, not a sound of a voice, not a sound of the affected little laugh that generally told when Aldith was near. Meg stopped breathless, and peered among the bushes; there was a tall figure leaning against the fence.
Melt's eyes looked wistful. "We're not old enough, though, yet," she said with a sigh. Aldith tossed her head. "That's nonsense; why, Clara Allison is only seventeen, and look at your own stepmother. Plenty of girls are actually married at sixteen, Marguerite, and a man proposed my sister Beatrice when she was only fifteen." Meg looked impressed and thoughtful. Then Aldith rose to go.
I looked for you till it was no use looking longer, and then the journey was blank. How charmingly that big hat suits you, and those jonquils at your neck. Might I beg one of the flowers? just one, please, Aldith. Your devoted friend, James Graham." And Aldith's, written on a sheet of her note-book with a pink programme pencil that she always kept in her purse, might be no worse than: "Dear Mr.
"Andrew!" she said in a sharp whisper, and forgetting in her anxiety that she never called him by his Christian name "where are the others? Hasn't Aldith come?" There was the smell of a cigar, and, looking closely, she saw to her horror it was Alan. "Oh!" she said, in an indescribable tone. Her heart gave one frightened, shamed bound, and then seemed to stop beating altogether.
"I you Oh, Aldith, I don't see how I can come," Meg faltered, the crimson in her cheeks again. "I've never done anything like it before. I'm sure it's not right." But the curl, in Aldith's lip made her ashamed of herself. "You're just twelve, Marguerite;" the young lady said calmly: "you're not a bit more than twelve. You'd better get a roll again, and a picture-book with morals.
She asked Aldith to suggest something, and that young person thought that vaseline and sulphur mixed together, and spread over the afflicted member, would have the desired effect.
"I am going to ask you for something that day, Meg," Andrew whispered just as they were parting. "I wonder if I shall get it." Meg flushed in her nervous, conscious way, and wondered to herself for a moment whether he intended to ask for a lock of her hair, a thing Graham had already obtained from Aldith. "What?" she said unwillingly. "A kiss," he whispered.
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