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Updated: June 4, 2025
Cornie says her father is in the Cabinet, and her mother is a shining intellectual light. And now that I've been warned beforehand, I'll not be able to utter a syllable of sense; I know that I'll just gibber." When she went to her room to dress for the occasion that night there was a great hunch of hot-house roses waiting for her with Jane's card.
"Perhaps he's gone where things are unsettled because everything is too much settled here," replied Fanny, with her satirical smile. "But Cornie!" "Oh," said Fanny, luxuriously stretching herself like a cat that needs exercise, "if one of these timid souls is hit hard enough, there's no telling what he'll do." Before the end of summer Lilla returned to the house on lower Fifth Avenue.
Not one of the listeners would have believed a syllable of it from the lips of round-bodied, red-faced, small-eyed, little Uncle Tim; whereas from Uncle Cornie disbelieve one of his stories if you could! One word more concerning him.
"A cheerful wish," said Harry. "Uncle Cornie is a lively companion isn't he? He cant even blunder through a Joe Miller without tacking a moral to it, and then trying to persuade you that the joke of it depends on the moral." "Here he comes!" said Kate, as three distinct blows with the knob of his walking-stick announced the arrival of Uncle Cornelius. She ran to the door to open it.
On the 23d of April the little Cornie arrived at Barré's Landing from the depot at Brashear, and the next day the first wagon-train came into camp laden with the supplies now sadly needed. At sight of the white-covered wagons winding over the plain, the men gave way to those demonstrations of delight so familiar to all who have ever seen soldiers rejoice.
"Well, at least, if I had to be disappointed, I should like it to be in something that would be worth having." "Would you now?" returned Cornelius spitefully. "I hope you may have what you want. For my part I don't desire to be better than my neighbor. I think it downright selfish." "Do you want to be as good as your neighbor, Cornie?" said his mother, looking up through a film of tears.
She had had such admirers before: little Magnolia Budine at Lloydsboro Seminary, and Cornie Dean at Warwick Hall. It was pleasant to know that they considered her perfection, but it was a strain to feel that she was their model, and that they copied her in everything, her faults as well as her graces. They had followed her like shadows, and such devotion grows tiresome.
Cornie Dean was among them, and Elise and A.O. Mary, looking out of the window, heard the familiar voices, and feeling that their questions and sympathy would be more than she could bear, caught up her hat and hand-baggage, and ran over to Betty's room to wait there until time to go.
In fact, there can't be any such thing as beauty." "No doubt you're right, Cornie dear," she responded, looking down at her beautiful hands. "And what's it all for?" he ejaculated, in a stupefied kind of horror. "All this sordid consolidation of flesh and blood, this disgusting hallucination of attractiveness? All for " "I know," she assented. "More Lillas, ad infinitum. Isn't it tiresome?"
"You're hurting me, Cornie. And there's the bell," she muttered, her heart going dead. He released her with the gesture of a man who hurls an enemy over a precipice. He gasped: "One of these days!" And with a livid smile he left the room as David Verne appeared in the doorway, in his wheel chair, propelled by Hamoud. But David, too, was nearly unrecognizable.
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