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Updated: May 26, 2025
Sir Redmond's teeth went together with a click, and he picked up the pepper shaker mechanically and peppered his salad until it was perfectly black, and Beatrice wondered how he ever expected to eat it. Mrs. Lansell dropped her fork on the floor, and had to have a clean one brought. Miss Hayes sent a frightened glance at her brother. Dick sat and ate fried chicken. "Why, Be'trice?
"Is you going, Be'trice?" Beatrice sent a quick, despairing glance around the table. Four pairs of eyes were fixed upon her with varying degrees of interest and anxiety. The fifth pair Dick's were trying to hide their unrighteous glee by glaring down at the chicken wing on his plate. Beatrice felt a strong impulse to throw something at him. She gulped and faced the inevitable.
Down by the creek, where the willows nodded to their own reflections in the still places, it was cool and sweet scented, and Beatrice forgot her grievances, and was not sorry she had come. "Don't run ahead so, Dorman," Beatrice cautioned. To her had been given the doubtful honor of carrying the baking-powder can of grasshoppers. Even divinities must make themselves useful to man. "Why, Be'trice?"
"Be'trice, dis hopper is awf-lly wilted!" came a sepulchral whisper from Dorman. Keith sighed, and went and baited the hook again. When he returned to Beatrice, his mood had changed. "I want you to promise " "I never make promises of any sort, Mr. Cameron." Beatrice had fallen back upon her airy tone, which was her strongest weapon of defense unless one except her liquid-air smile.
Cam'ron interduced us, Be'trice. He said, 'Redcloud, dis is Master Dorman Hayes. Shake hands wis my frien' Dorman. And he put up his front hand, Be'trice, and nod his head, and I shaked his hand. I dess love that big, high pony, Be'trice. Can I buy him, Be'trice?" "Maybe, kiddie." "Can I buy him wis my six shiny pennies, Be'trice?" "Maybe." "Mr. Cam'ron lives right over that hill, Be'trice.
I wants you to and de puppies'll need you and auntie, and " Dorman gathered himself for the last, crushing argument "and Uncle Redmon' wants you awf'lly!" Beatrice took a sip of ice water, for she needed it. "Why, Be'trice? Gran-mama'll let you go, guess. Can't she go, gran'mama?" It was Mrs. Lansell's turn to test the exquisite torture of that prickly chill along the spine.
If I had dreamed of the true conditions, Miss Hayes, I should never have sanctioned this wild idea of Beatrice's to come out and spend the summer with Richard." "It's coming, Be'trice! There it is! Will it bite, auntie? Say, will it bite?" Beatrice looked. A horseman came over the hill and was galloping down the long slope toward them.
I" she was speaking to the whole group "I can only advise her." Dorman gave a squeal of triumph. "See? You can go, Be'trice! Gran'mama says you can go. You will go, won't you, Be'trice? Say yes!" "No!" said Beatrice, with desperate emphasis. "I won't." "I want Be'trice to go-o!"
Besides, her mother had just finished talking to her for her good, which was enough to send an angel into the sulks and Beatrice lacked a good deal of being an angel. Dorman laid his baking-powder can confidingly in his divinity's lap. "Be'trice, I did get some grasshoppers; you said I couldn't.
Dorman squirmed around till he could look at the two, and his eyebrows were tied in a knot. "I wish, Be'trice, you wouldn't talk, 'less you whisper. De fishes won't bite a bit." "All right, honey we won't." Dorman turned back to his fishing with a long breath of relief. His divinity never broke a promise, if she could help it.
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