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Updated: May 12, 2025
Now I experience it. I suppose I've got to say more. Well, then, in a general way, do you think living amounts to anything, Miss Craydocke?" "Whose living?" "Sharp as a knife that's just cut through a lemon! Ours, then, if you please; us girls', for instance." "You haven't done much of your living yet, my dear."
When are we to make our knot and begin? and which kind are we to do?" "Most lives find occasion, more or less, for each. Practiced fingers will know how to manage all." "But it's the proportion!" cried Sin, in a crescendo that ended with an emphasis that was nearly a little scream. "I think that, when one looks to what is really needed most and first, will arrange itself," said Miss Craydocke.
"That's the little bit of righteousness to save the city. That's paid for," said Sin Saxon. "Jimmy Wigley's gone home with more scrip than he ever got at once before; and if your chicken-heartedness hadn't taken the wrong direction, Miss Craydocke, I should be perfectly at ease in my mind." "It's very pretty," said Miss Craydocke; "but do you think Madam Routh would quite approve?
"I don't suppose I could convince you of it," she resumed; "but I do actually have serious thoughts sometimes. I think that very likely some of us most of us are going to the dogs. And I wonder what it will be when we get there. Why don't you contradict, or confirm, what I say, Miss Craydocke?" "You haven't said out, yet, have you?"
"You quite eclipse and extinguish my poor little doings," said Miss Craydocke, admiring and rejoicing all the while as genuinely as Sin herself. "Dear Miss Craydocke!" cried the girl; "if I thought it would seem like that, I would send and tip them all into the river. But you, you can't be eclipsed! Your orbit runs too high above ours."
Also, the wall itself had been papered, at her own cost and providing, with a pretty pale-green hanging; and there were striped muslin curtains to the window, over which were caught the sprays of some light, wandering vine that sprung from a low-suspended terra-cotta vase between. She had everything pretty about her, this old Miss Craydocke.
Miss Craydocke slipped her lap-board work and all under her bureau, upon the floor, for safety; and then with her quaint, queer expression, in which curiosity, pluckiness, and a foretaste of amusement mingled so as to drive out annoyance, pushed back her bolt, and presented herself to the demand of her visitor, much as an undaunted man might fling open his door at the call of a mob.
You've only to 'put in one to make it so, as children say in 'odd and even." And Miss Craydocke overcasted her first buttonhole energetically. Leslie Goldthwaite saw through the whole now, in a minute. "You did it on purpose, for an excuse!" she said; and there was a ring of applauding delight in her voice which a note of admiration poorly marks.
"Well, you must begin somehow," said Miss Craydocke. "And after you've once begun, you can keep on." Which, as a generality, was not so glittering, perhaps, as might be; but Leslie could imagine, with a warm heart-throb, what, in this case, Miss Craydocke's "keeping on" would be. "I found them out by degrees," said Miss Craydocke.
DARLING MAMMA, I've just begun to find out really what to do here. Cream doesn't always rise to the top. You remember the Josselyns, our quiet neighbors in town, that lived in the little house in the old-fashioned block opposite, Sue Josselyn, Effie's schoolmate? And how they used to tell me stories and keep me to nursery-tea? Well, they're the cream; they and Miss Craydocke.
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