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Updated: May 17, 2025
Come on, Gerty, Cissy called. It's the bazaar fireworks. But Gerty was adamant. She had no intention of being at their beck and call. If they could run like rossies she could sit so she said she could see from where she was. The eyes that were fastened upon her set her pulses tingling. She looked at him a moment, meeting his glance, and a light broke in upon her.
You're for ever talking about him," said Will uneasily, trying to wriggle himself out of his sister's clasp. "Not talk about Father!" exclaimed Cissy indignantly. "Will, whatever do you mean? I couldn't bear not to talk about Father! It would seem like as we'd forgotten him. And you must never forget him never!" "I don't like talking about dead folks. And well it's no use biding it. Look here.
Windibrook, with a sickly smile, "you are questioned regarding your father's affairs, you may remember his peculiar and utterly unsolicited gift of a certain sum towards a new organ, to which I alluded to-day. You can say that he always expressed great liberality towards the church, and it was no surprise to you." Cissy only stared at him with dangerous eyes. "Mrs.
He paused, coughed slightly, cast a glance at the veranda, where Cissy now for the first time observed a man standing in an obviously assumed attitude of negligent abstraction, moved towards the back room, and in a lower voice said, "A word with you in private." Without replying, Cissy followed him. "If," said Mr.
And as Cissy took after her father, this may have weakened her allegiance to her mother.
He paused, and with another voice turned half-interrogatively towards her. "Some children, or a passing tramp, had carelessly thrown matches in the underbrush, and they were ignited beside the chapel. Sister Appleby, chancing to return here for" "For my fan," said Cissy with a timid truthfulness of accent. "Found herself unable to cope with it, and it occurred to her to give the alarm you heard.
He says he don't forget you and little Cissy, you bet! and he's sendin' money to old Ricketts straight off. He says don't you and Cissy mind whether school keeps or not as long as big Brother Dick holds the lines. He says he'd have written before, but he's bin follerin' up a lead mighty close, and expects to strike it rich in a few days.
'Well, I got to see a man down your way, Cissy; a' owes me for a load a' straw. 'Then why don't you come down and get the money? 'I telled 'ee I was a-coming. He wants some of our sheep to feed off a meadow; s'pose I must see about it' with a sigh, as if the idea of a decision was insupportable. 'Why didn't you come before?
These were great marshes, drained like cranberry bogs and planted in onions. Whole families could work there, planting, weeding, pulling, packing. The first year was dreary. Cissy worked along with the grown folks, or some days stayed home and did the washing and minded Tom and Mary. "I shore didn't know how to wash good as I do now."
She always called him Frank, for although they were not first cousins, they were cousins. He generally called her Cecilia, but she was Cissy in her own house. He was hardly close enough to venture upon the more familiar nickname, but to-night, as they rose to go to the piano, he said, and the baritone sat next to her, 'Now, CISSY, once more.
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