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Updated: May 13, 2025
Their expressions of love were so loud and so flowery that Morgan began to recognise the family blood. When, a moment later, he was introduced to them as Cleo's husband, their faces became of a fiery red, as though there were something discreditable in the fact of matrimony, and they exhibited a stiff shyness that was almost stupid.
They went to lunch together, for there was always some small silver at the bottom of Cleo's purse, and she then gave him to understand she had business to transact here and there during the afternoon, and that he must amuse himself alone as best he could.
"Well, I am doubly sorry for Kitty if that's Aunt Hannah," declared Julia, and then the Treddie left Luna Land behind. GRACE tapped at the side window of the Log Cabin; she had climbed over the little stile-steps that mounted the fence between Rosabell and Cleo's cottage, and now she waited at the window for a sign of life within, for it was early, and summer folks could sleep late.
"What what was it?" asked Grace, when the shower of ashes and embers was over, without any casualties. "I rather think that was the completion of Cleo's experiment," said Captain Clark. "The clay ball exploded, girls." There was no question about that.
He entered the glass-covered way that led up to Cleo's door and knocked unhesitatingly. The servant who responded to his summons stared at him in undisguised astonishment. "Is your mistress at home?" he asked, for he did not know by what name to enquire for Cleo. He sent in his own, however, and was immediately ushered into her presence.
The very rapidity of the glimpse that Morgan had had into that Hampstead interior made it the more fascinating to dwell upon in imagination, and, though the definite figure of Cleo now took the place of the vague, smiling woman who had always been with him, it seemed to him that he had discerned Cleo's every feature from the beginning.
And so it went on until the crabs were piling up in the basket and threatening to get out, in spite of the sea weed that was heaped on much thicker than necessary, according to the opinion of Louise. So intent were the girls on their crabbing game they had not noticed the other craft drifting about them. Suddenly Grace pulled so hard at Cleo's sleeve she almost lost a catch in the attempt.
"You can't stick a straw in through that clay as you stick a splint in a cake." "No," admitted Cleo, "but I guess it must be ready now. The book says it doesn't take more than an hour before the fish is baked to a turn, whatever that is." The four girls stood about the fire hole, wondering how Cleo's experiment would succeed. Captain Clark joined them.
And with the sending of those letters, he seemed to be detaching himself from his old life with one clean cut; his imagination left free to construct the tableaux of what he believed such was the impression Cleo's personality had made on him was going to be a gorgeous panoramic future, a triumphant historic march through the civilised world.
"I'm never going to eat fish as long as I live," resolved Cleo. "Each time I meet it it smells worse." "The same fish naturally would," joked Louise. "But this is only bait Cleo bait, don't you know what that means?" she teased, swinging the obnoxious basket up to a line with Cleo's face, where avoiding the odor would be impossible.
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