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When she went down to the kitchen she found a smoking hot breakfast on the table. Mr. Chapley was nowhere in sight and Mrs. Chapley was cutting bread with a sulky air. Mrs. Matilda Pitman was sitting in an armchair, knitting a grey army sock. She still wore her bonnet and her triumphant expression. "Set right in, dears, and make a good breakfast," she said.
She was worth thirty thousand dollars, the bulk of which was left to Amelia Chapley. But she left five thousand to me in trust for Jims. The interest is to be used as I see fit for his education, and the principal is to be paid over to him on his twentieth birthday. Certainly Jims was born lucky. I saved him from slow extinction at the hands of Mrs.
Remember that, though I may have come down in the world, I haven't quite forgot all decency for all that. I knew you was a skinflint when Amelia married you, and you've made her as bad as yourself. But Mrs. Matilda Pitman has been boss for a long time, and Mrs. Matilda Pitman will remain boss. Here you, Robert Chapley, take yourself out of here and let that girl get dressed.
"I'm afraid not," he added sadly. "Miss Kilburn, I've been put in a very unfair position by Miss Northwick's changing her mind about Juliet, after the part had been offered to Miss Chapley. I've been made the means of a seeming slight to Miss Chapley, when, if it hadn't been for the cause, I'd rather have thrown up the whole affair.
"That Juliet business has pretty near been the death of him. I told him to offer Miss Chapley some other part Rosaline, the part of the young lady who was dropped; but he couldn't seem to see it. Well, and how come on the good works, Annie?" "The good works! Ralph, tell me: do people think me a charitable person? Do they suppose I've done or can do any good whatever?"
Fellows, the painter, makes a long summer; he bought an old farm-house, and built a studio; Miss Jennings, the flower-painter, has a little box there, too; Mr. Chapley, the publisher, of New York, has built; the Misses Clevinger, and Mrs. Valence, are all near us. There's one family from Chicago quite nice New England by birth, you know; and Mrs.
"No," said the big woman, speaking for the first time, "this place belongs to us. We bought it from the Brewsters last fall. They moved to Greenvale. Our name is Chapley." Poor Rilla fell back on her pillow, quite overcome. "I beg your pardon," she said. "I I thought the Brewsters lived here. Mrs. Brewster is a friend of mine. I am Rilla Blythe Dr. Blythe's daughter from Glen St. Mary.
Some of my friends think I've succeeded so well in telling the story, don't you know, without a change of scene, that they're urging me to publish my arrangement for the use of out-of-door theatricals." "I should think it would be a very good idea," said Annie. "I suppose Mr. Chapley would do it?" "Well, I don't know I don't know," Mr. Brandreth answered, with a note of trouble in his voice.
Brandreth's love affair with Miss Chapley broken off, and Lyra's lamentable triumph over Miss Northwick, and Mrs. Munger's duplicity, and Ralph's escapade all because I wanted to do good!" A note of exaggeration had begun to prevail in her self-upbraiding, which was real enough, and the time came for him to suggest, "I think you're a little morbid, Miss Kilburn." "Morbid! Of course I am!
"It isn't a partnership, of course; but he thinks I can be of use to him." "I know you can!" Annie adventured. "We are very busy getting ready nearly everybody else is gone and mother sent her kindest regards you know she don't make calls and I just ran up to tell you. Well, good-bye!" "Good-bye! Give my love to your mother, and to your-to Miss Chapley." "I will."
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