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Updated: June 26, 2025
Burnett's "Fauntleroy," with Barrie's "Sentimental Tommy," with all the little ones in the books of Dickens and the poems and stories of Eugene Field. The child in literature is something new, comparatively. We need more of the effort to understand the child mind, the child heart, the child point of view.
He wrote Barrie he was at home, very blue and homesick, and outside it was raining. Then came Barrie's long cable, at 75 cents a word, saying his play was the success of the year. He did not know even it had been ACCEPTED. He shouted to his wife, and they tried to dance but the hut was too small, so they ran out into the compound and danced in the rain.
I was not sorry to escape from the scene which Barrie's pale face and o'er-bright eyes made very trying; also I was really anxious to find out if Aline had come. If she had not, I should begin to worry about her and the poor old car to say nothing of the tribe of Vanneck. As I went out, I heard Mrs.
Without spoken questions, therefore, Miss Hepburn pecked with her unkissed virgin lips the firm pink satin of Barrie's cheek. The deed seemed curiously epoch-making, and stirred her oddly. She was ashamed of the feeling she had, rather like a bird waking up from sleep and fluttering its wings in her breast.
I might have flattered myself that she was happy enough, and glad of my society, if I hadn't reflected that to sulk visibly would have been to blame Mrs. Bal. Already I knew that loyalty was one of Barrie's everyday virtues. Barbara could do no wrong! She had browsed a little among the thrilling shops of Princes Street.
It was only a comparative lull, and it lasted no more than a few seconds; but there was time enough to hear Douglas yell into Barrie's ear, "I must have you for my own." The next instant he was purple through his soldier-tan.
Nothing, I find, is so distinctive of New England as this graceful veiling of the practical side of life. The landlady always reminded me, by her manner, of Barrie's description of the bill-sticker's wife who "cut" her husband when she chanced to meet him "professionally" engaged.
At the picture of torture, however, Barrie's heart invariably failed, and in fancy she rescued the victim. But never had she hated Mrs. MacDonald so actively as now. "My mother!" she said again. "How dared the wicked old creature be such a brute to her!" For Barrie was certain that these were relics of her mother's presence in the house.
The Window in Thrums appeared in 1889 a masterpiece to set beside the French masterpiece, drawn likewise from peasant life, of almost the same date, Pecheur d'Islande. Barrie's gift, also, has been a gift making for the joy of his generation; he too has carried the flag of the True Romance slight, twinkling, fantastic thing, compared to that of Kipling, but consecrate to the same great service.
Barrie's, written to a fellow-workman, in which he speaks of the 'almost unbearable pathos' of an incident in one of the latter's pages. The phrase seems to fit accurately that chapter in the 'Window in Thrums' where Jamie, after his fall in London, returns to his old home, and finds his own people dead and scattered.
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