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Updated: October 4, 2025
"Oh, you've signed it in the wrong place. You should have put your name there not the way you were going to work" her finger rested on the place Felicia had written. "What is your name? Your name isn't Miss By-the-Day is it?" she asked good-humoredly. "Why, I think it is," Felicia smiled back, "I think it will have to be it's Day," she added shyly. "Miss or Mrs.?" "Miss."
I'm never hungry but what in the Jumping Jehosophat are you doing here?" "I'm mending. By-the-day, you know. Your nurse went walking. And your cook went to see her cousin. So if you really were hungry isn't it lucky you aren't? I don't know what we would do." She advanced to the bedside. He made her want to shudder, he was so ugly in his long green dressing gown.
They all of them knew that Miss By-the-Day was planning to sail for France. They knew it was about something in connection with the French property but they did not know that she was planning the most wonderful "pretend" of her whole life. The Portia Person was the only one who shared her secret it was to the Portia Person that she always confided her troubles.
Presently she wrote down an address that she handed to Felicia. "You must be there at eight o'clock in the morning, can you do that, Miss By-the-Day?" "There's something else I'd like you to write it's the place where Miss Pease lives " "You can't go to see her except Sundays," Miss Sarah cautioned her. "They're strict."
The little gray moths of women crept closer, some of them fluttered into the Wheezy's room. The twilight grew deeper and deeper, and on the edge of the Wheezy's bed sat little Miss By-the-day and whistled the songs that Marthy used to sing. "Churry Ripe Churry Ripe " and "Ever of thee I am fondly dreaming " She whistled until some one came down the corridor to light the lights.
"And what kind of work, please?" "Like the Wheezy sewing for two dollars a day and lunch" she repeated it like a lesson. "There's a day a week at 440 Linton Avenue Mrs. Alden's, perhaps you could go there. Have you references?" "I don't even know what they are," Miss By-the-Day replied. The brisk person laughed. "Well you must have an address, where do you live?"
That letter or the thick old parchments that told her that she was the great-great-granddaughter of a king? It was the end of June. If you wanted to get little Miss By-the-Day to sew for you the Disagreeable Walnut would tell you that she'd gone away without leaving an address. If you wanted to hear Mademoiselle Folly at the theaters you discovered that she wasn't playing.
If I ever get a commish' to sculpt an angel I shall use Janet MacGregor for my model, little Miss By-the-Day," she sighed drowsily, "your middle name must be Luck." "My middle name is Trenton," answered Felicia literally. "Dulcie, I am going to tell you something. Something you must remember.
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