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Updated: September 9, 2025
When Aunt Jerusha let the cat out of the bag about my bashfulness, Blue-Eyes flashed, at me from under her long eyelashes a glance so roguish, so perfectly infatuating, that my heart behaved like a thermometer that is plunged first into a tea-kettle and then into snow; it went up into my throat, and then down into my boots.
It's different with you; you must learn all you can, so as to be able to talk to Gilbert. 'Come to dinner! Lydia paused at the door. 'What has come to you, Thyrza? she asked, looking in her sister's face. 'You're not the same, somehow. Oh, how did you manage to do your own hair? But there's something different in you, Blue-eyes. 'Is there? Yes, perhaps.
It is curious to watch them with those playthings. To-day the blue-eyed one is the favourite, and the black-eyed one is pushed behind the drawers. To-morrow blue-eyes may take its turn of neglect and it may be an odious little wretch with a burnt nose, or torn bead of hair, and no eyes at all, that takes the first place in Miss's affection, and is dandled and caressed in her arms.
The potato has a variety of names, such as leather-jackets, blue-eyes, and red-eyes. A pretty name in Devonshire for the Veronica chamcaedrys is angel's-eyes: "Around her hat a wreath was twined Of blossoms, blue as southern skies; I asked their name, and she replied, We call them angel's-eyes." In the northern counties the poplar, on account of its bitter bark, was termed the bitter-weed.
At last she leaned forward and said: 'What are you thinking of, Blue-eyes? Thyrza drew a deep sigh. 'I don't know, Lyddy. It's so hot, I don't feel able to do anything. 'But you're always thinking and thinking. What is it that troubles you? 'I feel dull. 'Why don't you like to go out with Mr. Ackroyd? Lydia asked. 'Why do you so much want me to, Lyddy?
They're not all as bad as that. At first I couldn't make out whether he was just fat and lazy. Now I know he's a grafter. He ought to get a nice neat 'For Sale' sign painted. Did you hear the nerve of him? Wanted a thousand dollars bribe to do his plain duty." "Oh, that was what he was driving at!" cried Bob. "Yes, Baby Blue-eyes, didn't you tumble to that?
Good-bye, Blue-eyes. Lydia went her way. For a wonder, there was no fog tonight, but the street lamps glistened on wet pavements, and vehicles as they rattled along sent mud-volleys to either side. In passing through Lambeth Walk, Lydia stopped at the clothing shop of which Thyrza had spoken.
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