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Updated: May 29, 2025
The short legs began to trot, and their owner to continue his explanations rather breathlessly. "He warn't livin' thar same as other folks," he said. "Thar was suthin' curi's about him. Nobody knowed nothin' about him, an' nobody knew nothin' about his wife. Now I come to think of it, nobody ever knowed his name but me." "Did he tell it to you?" said Latimer, rigidly.
Her eyes filled with tears, and she hid them on Miss Snow's shoulder. "Be ye disap'inted, little woman?" inquired Jim, tenderly. "Oh, no." "Feelin's a little too many fur ye?" The little woman nodded, while Miss Snow put her arm around her neck and whispered. "A woman is a curi's bein'," said Jim. "She cries when she's tickled, an' she laughs when she's mad."
It was a silk old Cap'n Peter Lorimer, her brother, who left 'em his money, brought home from sea, and she had worn it for best and second best eleven year. It looked as good as new, and she never would have ripped it up if she could have matched it. I said it seemed to be a shame, but it was a curi's figure. Cap'n Manning fetched her one to pay for it the next time he went to Boston.
'Her trunk! Did she come in the cars? Frank asked, his hands dropping helplessly at his side, and his lips growing pale, as the man replied: 'Yes; last night, on the quarter-past-six from New York; and what is curi's, she got out on the side away from the depot, and I never seen her till the cars went on, when she was lookin' at a paper, and the child cryin' at her feet.
It was curi's enough, but it'd hev to be follered up an' found out. Ef he was only what he 'lowed to be 'tain't nothin' to hide that a man's wife dies an' leaves a child. I don't b'lieve thar wasn't nothin' to hide but it'd hev to be proved an' proved plain. It's mighty aggravatin'."
"Dar was a time, a long way back, Marse Rupert 'fore you was borned when I seemed to year a good deal 'bout Marse Thomas. Dat was when he went away in dat curi's fashion. Nobody knowed whar he went, an' nobody knowed quite why. It wus jes' afore ye' maw an' paw wus married.
That night the same strange, wild, pleading cry was repeated in the timber. "There's something very strange about that sound," said Mrs. Woods. "It makes me feel as though I must run toward it. It draws me. It makes me feel curi's. It has haunted me all day, and now it comes again." "Do you suppose that the cry has had anything to do with the death of Mr. Bonney's cattle?" asked Gretchen.
"Ye've allus been kinder fond o' chillun, Tom, and mebbe she ain't as colicky by natur' as Martin Luther was, but I mus' say it's the curi'sest thing I ever heern him a-gwine away an' givin' her cl'ar up as ef he hadn't no sort o' nat'ral feelin's I do say it's curi's." "He's a queer fellow," said Tom, "a queer fellow! There's no denying that."
Curi's about Ad'line, ain't it? I expected when her husband died she'd be right back here with what she'd got; at any rate, till she'd raised the child to some size. There'd be no expense here to what she'd have elsewhere, and here's her ma'am beginnin' to age. She can't do what she used to, John was tellin' of me; and I don't doubt 't 'as worn upon her more'n folks thinks."
"Oh! nothin', nothin', Tom, only it's kinder curi's kinder curi's." "Well," said Tom, "I've not begun to look at it in that light yet myself." "Hain't ye, now?" softly. "Hain't ye, Tom?" Then a faint little chuckle broke from him not an intrusive chuckle, quite the contrary; a deprecatory and inadvertent sort of chuckle. "That ain't me," he ventured, inoffensively.
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