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Updated: June 16, 2025
However, there might be no harm in my trying, and perhaps the school-master would cross out the bad language. So here I resolved to keep my head-quarters, dispensing, if it must be so, with Betsy's presence, and not even having Mrs. Price to succeed her, unless my cousin should insist upon it.
Therefore his opposition to Betsy's suitor was as firm as ever; and the two lovers appeared as far as ever from the attainment of their hopes. "Send Miss Betsy to me at once," was Gilcrest's order to a negro girl who was sweeping the hall one cold, snowy morning in December, as he strode into the house, whip in hand, clad in overcoat and riding-boots. "Where's your mistress?"
And she was so upset that she promptly let the paint-brush fall to the ground. Then Betsy's cousin nodded approvingly. "Now you'd better hurry home," he told Mrs. Ladybug. "There's a rumor around the meadow that your house is on fire. And they say your children are in great danger." Little Mrs. Ladybug at once fell to weeping. "It's that horrid Freddie Firefly!" she shrieked.
You know what an odd face she had; I suppose it was distorted by disease and out of all shape it ever knew; but I can see it now, framed in with its cap border and the window as if there were no more of her." "She really was the most curious old creature; it more than accounts for Mrs. Turner's and Miss Betsy's love for a piece of news," said Mrs. Graham, who was much amused.
"The custom isn't founded upon logic, but solely upon the consent of the parties," was Betsy's ready rejoinder; "and who but a pair of old sobersides like you and Cousin Abby would sit here discoursing on 'logical connections, while all this fun is going on? 'Logical connection, indeed!" she exclaimed merrily, with a saucy toss of her curls.
For some time he kept aloof from Oaklands; not only because of Abby, but because, when in Betsy's presence, certain tones of her voice when speaking to him, and a wistful look in her eyes, troubled him with a vague, half-conscious sense that she, young though she was, comprehended his trouble.
Molly had only a moment to wait that time, for the man who was selling lemonade answered Betsy's shy question with a stare and a curt, "Lord, no! What could a young one like you do for me?" The little girls wandered on, Molly calm and expectant, confident in Betsy; Betsy with a very dry mouth and a very gone feeling.
We assented, stretched our rubber blankets, spread our woollens, adjusted the Betsy's long mosquito-bar and crawled carefully under it in expectation of a glorious sleep under the stars and the pines; but the dreams of the Hattie's captain, the trombonings of the Betsy's nose, the tossings of the Fritz and the savage industry of the mosquitos drove anything but troubled sleep from our eyelids, and we welcomed the early "Ho! ho! ho!" and improvised gong of the irrepressible Kawaybawgo.
Betsy's personal appeal did not, therefore, touch his heart to any great extent. He surmised also that for Seth Howes and his wife to ask help for some person other than themselves premised a darky in the woodpile somewhere. But for the daughter of Emily Richards to be suggested as a possible housekeeper at the Cy Whittaker place that was interesting, certainly.
"Here is a surprise, indeed!" "What is it?" inquired Betsy, clinging to the windlass and panting for breath. For answer the Shaggy Man grasped the bundle of copper and dumped it upon the ground, free of the well. Then he turned it over with his foot, spread it out, and to Betsy's astonishment the thing proved to be a copper man. "Just as I thought," said Shaggy, looking hard at the object.
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