United States or Ukraine ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Me wants a bag," said Becky, "and me wants a pin-cushion, and me wants a little book." Becky's desires were large, but being a good girl, she was gratified. Occasionally the girls were left to choose between a book and a work-bag, and although the bag might be gaudy and tempting, they invariably took the book. The teachers were all but one blacks, and were formerly slaves.
His was a bad life; he ate and drank most imprudently, and his digestion was not to be compared with Becky's. No respectable office would have ensured "Waterloo Sedley."
One or two of the tunes ran in Becky's brain like haunting undercurrents; but best of all, Becky knew the living room upon whose generous hearth the fire burned from early autumn until the bloom of dogwood, azalea, and laurel filled the space from which the ashes were reluctantly swept. Every rug and chair and couch was familiar to the burning eyes.
But the pride of learning upheld the others and they chanted in singsong chorus, swaying rhythmically the while from leg to leg: "The friendly cow all red and white, I love with all my heart: She gives me cream with all her might, To eat with apple-tart Robert Louis Stevenson." Becky's tears ceased. "Be there cows in the Central Park?" she demanded. "Sure," said Patrick.
"Hello, everybody," she smiled at us over Becky's shoulder. She was warm with walking. "Nothing to explain. Just decided to run up here, that's all, and found this poor little thing crying down by the gate. It's Becky, isn't it, Oliver? I haven't seen her for a year." "It's just a shame you didn't let us meet you," said Edith. "Walking in this weather! I declare it is.
As for little Rawdon Crawley, Becky's only child, he had few early happy recollections of his mother. She had not, to say the truth, seen much of the young gentleman since his birth.
He had known her for ten days, and dreaded to think that in ten days more she might be gone. "I won't talk if you don't wish it." Becky's eyes were on the sea. "I think I should like to talk. I have been thinking about that Indian that you want commemorated in bronze up there on the bluff. Do you think he was cruel?" "Who knows? He was, perhaps, a savage. Yet he may have been tender-hearted.
Presently they came to a place where a little stream of water, trickling over a ledge and carrying a limestone sediment with it, had, in the slow-dragging ages, formed a laced and ruffled Niagara in gleaming and imperishable stone. Tom squeezed his small body behind it in order to illuminate it for Becky's gratification.
"Tell her, if she wants a raise," he concluded heartily, "and can't pinch enough out of my kitchen and the two dollars I pay her tell her to come to me, straight out, and I'll give her more, and she can pinch more." Mr. Killibrew moved down the aisle of his store between fragrant barrels and boxes, laughing mellowly at old Aunt Becky's ruse, as he saw it.
The Croesus himself, indeed, was very indulgent. He was assiduous and respectful; but he wisely abstained from pressing for an immediate decision, and trusted to reflection and to Aunt Becky's good offices; and knew that his gold would operate by its own slow, but sure, gravitation.
Word Of The Day