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Updated: June 1, 2025
"And Mabel why don't you ask about her? Oh, Lord Ernest, we've done it we've done it thanks to Antoun Effendi! We should have failed at the last if it hadn't been for him. Just look over there, at the Bronsons, and see if you can guess who it is they're talking to?" I looked and saw tall, thin Mr. Bronson, and short, plump Mrs.
"Hot coals would scotch 'em, and I only want to fill their stomachs for once." The husking at the Bronsons was a very well attended feast, indeed. There was a great barn floor, and on this were heaped the ear-corn in the husks not too much, for Lettie proposed having the floor cleared and swept for square dancing, and later for the supper.
He saw plainly that, friendly as the Bronsons were, they did not look upon a common farm-boy as their equal not in social matters, at least. "I could not take anything for doing a neighbor a favor, Miss Bronson," said Hiram, quietly. "Thank you. Good-day." Hiram drove back home feeling quite as depressed as Sister, perhaps. Finally he said to himself: "Well, some day I'll show 'em!"
From this angle, too, she could see quite easily, and without more than twisting her attenuated neck, the whole village street from the Cromartins' gate to the spire of the village church, as well as everything that passed up and down the shadow-flecked road: which child, for instance, was late for school, and how often, and what it wore and whether its clothes were new or inherited from an elder sister; who came to the Bronsons' next door, and how long they stayed, and whether they brought anything with them or carried anything away; the peddler with his pack; the gunner on his way to the marshes, his two dogs following at his heels in a leash; Dr.
Search parties had sought it in vain, and the lost mine of the Bronsons became a legend, a mystery that had grown constantly more dim in the passing years. "When I am gone," little Bill would whisper to his mother, as she knelt crying at his feet, "I will go out and find my papa's mine.
Duveneck, who, until then, had been happy in an old ulster with holes in the pockets and rips in the seams, dazzled the café by appearing in a jaunty spring overcoat. J. exchanged his old trousers with a green stain of acid down the leg for the new pair he had hitherto worn only when he went to call on the Bronsons or to dine with Mr.
The third day was to be the Great Day for us, the day big with fate for Mabella Hanem; and the first thing that happened was a letter sent by hand from the Bronsons at the Villa Sirius. They had arrived. The fireworks could begin. Not half an hour after the first word from Bronson, came another hurried note. An unexpected obstacle had cropped up. So confident had he and Mrs.
Bronson would take me on now?" But he knew that the Westerner already had a man who suited him, since Hiram had refused the chance Bronson offered. And, then, Lettie had shown that she felt he had not appreciated their offer. Perhaps her father felt the same way. Besides, Hiram had a secret wish not to put himself under obligation to the Bronsons.
It was now almost as low as it had been the day Lettie Bronson's boating party had been "wrecked" under the big sycamore. Hiram had not seen the Bronsons for some weeks, but about the time he got his late corn planted, Mr. Bronson drove into the Atterson yard, and found Hiram cultivating his first corn with the five-tooth cultivator.
Cromartin now bustled in, accompanied by her two daughters slim, awkward girls, both dressed alike in high waists and short frocks; and after them the Bunsbys, father, mother, and son all smiles, the last a painfully thin young lawyer, in a low collar and a shock of whitey-brown hair, "looking like a patent window-mop resting against a wall," so Lucy described him afterward to Martha when she was putting her to bed; and finally the Colfords and Bronsons, young and old, together with Pastor Dellenbaugh, the white-haired clergyman who preached in the only church in Warehold.
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