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Updated: June 19, 2025
I must be off to-night, sure." Blue Bonnet turned to Aunt Lucinda and kissed her with warmth; then she walked between her uncle and aunt down the length of the long corridor to the front door. Carita also clung to Uncle Cliff. At the door they all paused. "Now you have everything that you need, Blue Bonnet?" Aunt Lucinda inquired. "You are quite sure?
Carita lay on one of the little hospital cots, her eyes closed, her face almost as white as the sheet that was drawn up close about her. "Carita Carita, dear," Blue Bonnet said softly, kneeling down beside her. "What's the matter? Why didn't you tell me you were sick?" The closed eyelids fluttered for a second, then opened wide with terror. "Oh, Blue Bonnet, go out of here, quick!
She sprang out of bed with a bound, and dragged forth Carita, who still clung to her slumbers. "Get up, Carita," she said. "That's some kind of a bell ringing for something or other goodness knows what! Maybe it's breakfast. I don't know." A look at her watch reassured her. Seven o'clock. Breakfast was at seven-thirty she remembered hearing that somewhere.
Carita is a deep-breasted market-girl nursing two brown babies, whom I have just seen sprawling over a gourd in the Campo Marzio; Fortezza, Speranza, Fede, I know them all, bless their sober, good eyes! in the fruit-market, or selling newspapers, or plaiting straws in the Piazza.
"She is one impertinent young person," she said to herself, and followed Blue Bonnet down the first flight of stairs to make sure that she really went to Miss North's office. Miss North was at her desk, busy with some papers. "May I speak with you, Miss North?" Blue Bonnet said. "What is it, Miss Ashe?" "You know about Carita, Miss North?" "Mrs. Goodwin has reported her illness."
"You're as sober as a judge. They weren't discussing you in the meeting, were they?" Blue Bonnet started. Mary had come so close to the truth that it brought the color to her cheeks. "Oh, I just wager they were! Look how she's blushing." Carita was indignant. "The very idea, Mary. What's Blue Bonnet done? You are the worst " "I know what's the matter with Blue Bonnet," Peggy Austin said.
The chef-d'oeuvre of Domenichino is the dying St. Jerome receiving the last rites of his church, commonly called the Communion of St. Jerome, painted for the principal altar of St. Girolamo della Carita. This work has immortalized his name, and is universally allowed to be the finest picture Rome can boast after the Transfiguration of Raffaelle.
"Oh, Blue Bonnet, I could have slept twenty minutes yet," Carita wailed sleepily. "I can dress for a party in ten minutes. Yes, I can, honestly!" "Maybe in Texas! You're in Boston now. Boston means a cold bath with a good rub, and getting into your clothes for the day all of which takes time." At seven-thirty they were dressed, waiting for the breakfast-bell to ring.
It was a spark of happiness like one of the red dots that flit over the remains of a burnt scrap of paper; but as it is with the black ashes, so it was with his face, it became dull again when the stranger quickly drew out his hand and perceived three pennies. "Ah, kind gentleman! carita, carita; for the love of St. Catherine! only a halfpenny to buy some bread!"
There are some people you can't spoil." "I wouldn't advise you to try too hard," Carita laughed. They stopped first at Blue Bonnet's room, which was two floors below Carita's. "I don't like your being so far away from me, at all," Blue Bonnet said, as she turned on the light and laid her coat and hat on the bed. "That's a silly rule having the younger girls all together on one floor.
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