Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 17, 2025
And when the flood had fallen, there, half a mile below, spread out over the meadow, was three hundred barrels of apple sauce!" Mrs. Argenter laughed a feeble little expected laugh; her heart was not free to be amused with an apple-story. No wonder Mrs. Jeffords kept the funny parts for Sylvie. Mrs. Argenter quenched her before she could possibly get to them.
It was the presence among them that was wanted; and poor Sylvie seemed to herself to melt quite away, as it were, before such a girl as Amy Sherrett, and not to be able to be a presence at all. It was all right now, as Sylvie had said. They could not leave immediately upon Mrs. Argenter joining them and her joining them was of itself a welcome and an invitation.
Argenter following, not daring to ask what she came and did this strange thing for, till Amy made her sit down in her own easy chair, and taking her hands, said gently, "It is a telegram from New York. Mr. Argenter is very ill." Then Mrs. Argenter cried out, "That's not all! I know how people bring news! Tell me the whole."
What did Mrs. Argenter care? The sun would be going down now, in a little while; then the cool piazzas, and the raspberries and cream, and the iced milk, yellow Alderney milk, would be delightful.
But was Sylvie's heart free for amusement? What was the difference? The years between them? Mrs. Jeffords was a far older woman than Mrs. Argenter, and had had her cares and troubles; yet she and Sylvie laughed like two girls together, over their work and their stories. That was it, the work! Sylvie was doing all she could.
Argenter had feebly discussed and ostensibly dictated the list as Sylvie wrote it down, she had really given up all choosing to her with a reiterated, helpless, "As you please," at every question that came up was a small figured Brussels of a soft, shadowy water-gray, with a border in an arabesque pattern.
Red Squirrel did not quite like the sudden coming face to face, as Sim reined up in a hurry just below the door, and Rodney had to pause and hold him in. "A tellagrim for Mrs. Argenter," said Sim, seizing his opportunity, and speaking to whom it might concern. "Eighty cents to pay, and I 'blieve it's bad news." "O, Mr. Sherrett, stop, please!" cried Sylvie, turning white in the dim light.
Argenter was up-stairs in a black tamise wrapper with a large plain black shawl folded about her, as she lay in the chill of a suddenly cool August evening, on the sofa in her dressing-room, which for the last week or two she had rarely left. All at once, Sylvie found that she must think and speak both for her mother and herself. Mrs.
Cardwell's name, and the thought of business. She cannot bear it now. But your advice would be so different!" Sylvie knew that it would go far with Mrs. Argenter that Mr. Howland Sherrett, in the relation of neighbor and friend, should plan and suggest for them, rather than Mr. Richard Cardwell, a stranger and mere man of business, should come and tell them things that must be.
So much, and two thousand dollars in cash, were given her in exchange for her homestead and her right of dower in the unincumbered portion of the estate, upon which was one other smaller mortgage. No other real property appeared in the list of assets. Mr. Argenter had, unfortunately, invested almost wholly in bonds, stocks, and those last ruinous mining ventures.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking