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Updated: June 7, 2025
Candace's tumbler was empty, and without particularly thinking about the matter she took a drink out of her finger-bowl, which she mistook for some sort of lemonade, from the bit of lemon which floated in the water. The moment after, she was conscious of her blunder. She saw Georgie dabbling her fingers in her bowl.
She can come, can't she, dear Mrs. Gray?" "I don't think she has any engagement," replied Mrs. Gray, trying not to smile at the struggle with dismay that was going on in Candace's countenance; "she likes driving, and it is a beautiful afternoon. You can go, can't you, Cannie?" It was impossible on the spur of the moment to frame any excuse. Mrs.
"Stop stop!" commanded Polly, shaking her arm. But Alexia was beyond stopping herself. And in between Candace's delighted recital how she combed "de ha'r to take de curl out," and how "ole Missus' ruffles was made into de clothes," came the peals of laughter that finally made every one in the room stop and look at the girls.
"The funny old book isn't right in what it says, but Cousin Kate knows; so it comes to the same thing in the end. I'm glad you gave it to me, Gertrude." Gertrude had the grace to feel ashamed, as she saw Candace's perfect freedom from shame. "Oh, dear! how much there is to learn!" continued Candace, with a sigh. She was still deep in the "Ladies' Manual of Perfect Gentility."
Then, to Candace's horror and astonishment, she walked straight across the room to a cupboard which her experienced eye had detected in the side of the chimney, opened the door, and took a survey of the contents. "Nothing there," she remarked, locking it up, "only medicine bottles and trash. Let's try again." She opened a closet door, and emitted a sigh of satisfaction.
There are few better keepers of secrets than shy people. They do not let things out by accident, as talkative persons do; it is easier for them to be silent than to talk, to keep counsel than to betray it. But apart from being shy, Candace's instincts were honorable. She had a lady-like distaste of interfering with other people's affairs or seeming to pry into them.
If my own stocking lay on the hearth, Candace's had to go in a place that satisfied her that was one sure thing. Besides, I had to make up to her for what Leon did, because she was crying into the corner of her apron about that. He slipped in and stole her stocking, hung it over the broomstick, and marched around the breakfast table singing to the tune of
"Oh, me! oh, my!" "They aren't hurt a bit," declared Joel stoutly, precipitating the whole collection unceremoniously at her. "There they are, every single one, as nice as ever!" "Take care," warned Candace. "Oh, my soul and body!" she mourned, "dey're all mussed up." "You can comb it out," said Joel, longing to comfort, and forgetting it was wool from Candace's own head.
If there is a fathomless mystery of sin and sorrow, there is a deeper mystery of God's love. So, Mary, I try Candace's way, I look at Christ, I pray to Him. If he that hath seen Him hath seen the Father, it is enough. I rest there, I wait. What I know not now I shall know hereafter." Mary kept all things and pondered them in her heart.
What sort of noise did they make? I suppose no one ever saw them." "One lady did." "Really!" Candace's eyes were wide with attention. "Yes. She was a friend of mine, and she used to board in the house before it was altered. She heard the noises, which were a sort of scratching and rustling, and she resolved to see what the ghost was like; so she took a candle and followed it downstairs."
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