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Updated: June 11, 2025
For an hour he sat there, talking on, most of it a pretty dull kind of drivel. Mrs. Brindley listened patiently, because she liked him and because she had nothing else to do until bedtime. At last he rose with a long sigh and said: "I guess I might as well be going." "She'll not come in to-night again," said Cyrilla slyly. He laughed. "You are a good one.
Cyrilla never scowled; she was sitting curled up on her bed with her Greek grammar, and she smiled at the rain and her grumbling chums as cheerfully as possible. "For pity's sake, Cyrilla, put that grammar away," moaned Mary. "There is something positively uncanny about a girl who can study Greek on Saturday afternoons at least, this early in the term."
Lucy Rose, when she went to town with Aunt Cyrilla, felt chagrined over this all of which goes to prove that Lucy was as yet very young and had a great deal to learn in this world. That troublesome worry over what Geraldine would think nerved her to make a protest in this instance.
You say you never knew anyone to do as I'm doing. Very well. But how many girls have you known who have succeeded?" Cyrilla hesitatingly confessed that she had known none. "Yet you've known scores who've tried." "But they didn't fail because they didn't work enough. Many of them worked too much." Mildred laughed. "How do you know why they failed?" said she. "You haven't thought about it as I have.
"A nice lookout for Christmas no, impossible to go on or back track blocked for miles what's that, madam? no, no station near woods for miles. We're here for the night. These storms of late have played the mischief with everything." "Oh, dear," groaned Lucy Rose. Aunt Cyrilla looked at her basket complacently. "At any rate, we won't starve," she said. The pale, pretty girl seemed indifferent.
"Cyrilla, that idea of yours was a really truly inspiration," said Carol solemnly. "I believe it was," said Cyrilla, thinking of Miss Marshall. Dorinda's Desperate Deed Dorinda had been only ten when her Aunt Mary on the Carter side had written to Mrs. Mrs.
"Girls, I have an inspiration!" she exclaimed. "Good! Let's hear it," said Carol. "Let's write letters rainy-day letters to everyone in the house," said Cyrilla. "You may depend all the rest of the folks under Mrs. Plunkett's hospitable roof are feeling more or less blue and lonely too, as well as ourselves.
The sealskin lady looked crosser than ever. The khaki boy said, "Just my luck," and two of the children began to cry. Aunt Cyrilla took some apples and striped candy sticks from her basket and carried them to them. She lifted the oldest into her ample lap and soon had them all around her, laughing and contented.
"I'd say there's always some reason FOR love," said Baird, and he felt that he had said something brilliant as is the habit of people of sluggish mentality when they say a thing they do not themselves understand. "You don't doubt that I love her?" he went on. "Why should I ask her to marry me if I didn't?" "I suppose that settles it," said Cyrilla. "Of course it does," declared he.
Mildred choked, and the tears welled into her eyes. She had not been mistaken; Cyrilla had changed toward her. Now that she had no prospects for a brilliant career, now that her money was gone, Cyrilla had begun to to be human. No doubt, in the course of that drive, Cyrilla had discovered that Keith had no interest in her either.
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