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Updated: June 24, 2025
It was dark outside by this time, and the steadily falling snow had spread a thick carpet on the ground. "Did you bring us something?" asked Dot expectantly, her hair-ribbon over one eye and both pockets torn from her apron. "Did you bring us something?" inquired Twaddles, shaking Mother Blossom's packages to try to find out what was in them.
Gay was talking as they approached the blazed pine, which stood out sinister and black against the afterglow, and it was only when Molly cried out sharply that he saw Blossom's face looking at them again over the tiger lilies. "Why, what in the deuce!" he exclaimed, not in anger, but in amazement.
All this took some time to plan, and Marjory said that if they were to see the garden and the farm they must leave the old part of the house till another day. Blanche agreed, and they went out into the garden. "The blossom's scent Floated across the fresh grass, and the bees With low, vexed song from rose to lily went; A gentle wind was in the heavy trees."
Blossom's old jackknife from the post where it had been abandoned, and pocketed it. "If nothin' else happens," he said to himself, "I'm figgered to make a profit of sixty cents and a tradin' knife." There followed a very busy fall and winter for Scattergood.
At last Dan Boggs, who's always bubblin' that a-way, speaks up: "'Which I'm shore sorry, says Dan, 'you don't fetch the moosic of that Purple Blossom's war-song West. I deems that a mighty excellent lay, an' would admire to learn it an' sing it some myse'f. I'd shore go over an' carol it to Red Dog; it would redooce them drunkards to frenzy." Where Whiskey Billy Died.
He was a silent, brooding man, heavily built, with a coarse reddish beard, stained with tobacco juice, which hung over his chest. Since the death of his wife, Blossom's mother, some fifteen years before, he had become more gloomy, more silent, more obstinately unapproachable.
Meg entered upon her new duties the next morning, after committing the children, with many lingering kisses and last good-byes, into Kitty's charge, who promised faithfully to be as kind to them as Meg herself. If it had not been for her anxiety with regard to them, she would have enjoyed nothing better than being Mrs Blossom's little maid.
Miss Blossom's cab, the driver much encouraged by Tommy, who conversed with him through the trap in the roof, dashed up to the door of a house close to Lord's. The horse was going fast, and nearly cannoned into another cab-horse, also going fast, which was almost thrown on its haunches by the driver.
She usually got out when Sam Layton, the Blossom's former chauffeur, backed their car or found a turn necessary. Now, however, she shook her head. Meg was learning, too. Father Blossom carefully swung the heavy car around and was ready to send it ahead toward home when suddenly the wheel seemed to take matters into its own hand if a steering wheel can do such a thing.
When the restlessness was appeased, the desire in which it had revealed itself slowly evaporated. "How is your mother?" was Blossom's first eager question, "oh, I do hope she is better!" "Better, yes, but we're still awfully anxious, the least shock may kill her Aunt Kesiah and I are walking on pins and needles. How are you, Beauty? Did you enjoy your visit?"
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