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Updated: May 10, 2025
He mingled his swarthy fingers with my golden tresses and he rubbed his dreadful Thomashawk across my lily-white face. He said "Torsha arrah darrah mishky bookshean!" I told him he was right. Wocky-bocky again rubbed his tomahawk across my face, and said "Wink-ho loo-boo!" Says I "Mr. Wocky-bocky" says I "Wocky I have thought so for years and so's all our family."
"Being a ray of sunshine around the house for a sick poet is no job for a runabout child like me." "But he's so much better now, David, that I should think you would be perfectly happy. Though of course you are still a little uneasy about him." As Caroline Darrah spoke she swayed the long-stemmed rose she held in her hand and tipped it against one of its mates in the vase. "Uneasy, nothing!
There might as well have been but one for, within the hall and without, the eyes of all seemed fastened on that. Some strange caprice had prompted Evelyn Darrah to wear black that night a grenadine, with cobweb lace and glinting spangles and sweeping train, the bodice cut low and displaying her shapely arms and neck and shoulders, enhancing the grace of her tall and slender form.
According to his estimate, too, the family should be here some time Friday. Meantime he had a fortress to reduce whose garrison had already flung out signals of distress. "Evelyn Darrah may have been a flirt at 'Frisco," said Mrs. Crook, "and she's had more experience than most girls of her years, but she's not heartless, and that good-looking scamp knows it." "Have you talked with Mrs.
Darrah the credit of being what he really is at bottom a right-hearted Virginia gentleman of the old school?" "You don't mean that you are going to accept!" said Adams, aghast. "Certainly; and so are you." There was no more to be said, and Adams held his peace while Winton scribbled a line of acceptance on a leaf of his note-book and sent it across to the Rosemary by the hand of the water-boy.
"Yes," answered Phoebe, instantly on the defensive, "he is just exactly that, Caroline Darrah Brown and he doesn't seem to be able to get over it. I'm afraid it's chronic with him." "He's young yet," Mrs. Buchanan remarked as she clipped a thread with her bright scissors. "No," said Phoebe slowly, "he is six years older than I am and that makes him thirty-two.
Wish I'd let him die in the swamps; chasing away to Panama for him was my mistake, I see." And David ruffled a young rose that drooped confidingly over toward him. "Why did he ever go to Panama? Why does he build bridges and things? Other people like you and me can do that sort of thing; but he ," and Caroline Darrah raised her eyes full of naive questioning.
"That," answered the major, "is a fire fit to light an altar, sir." "And in my heart, ah, Major, can you trust me to keep it burning?" said Phoebe, thus making her avowal before them all with gallant voice and eyes of the dawn. Moments later after Phoebe and Mrs. Buchanan had retired down the hall, and up the stairway, Caroline Darrah still knelt by the major's chair.
Thus left alone Caroline Darrah was partaking of a solitary cup of tea, which was being served her by Tempie in all the gorgeousness of a new white lace-trimmed and beruffled apron which Caroline had made for her as near as possible like the dainty garments affected by the French shop-clad Annette, who was Temple's special ally and admirer, when Mrs.
"I tell you what let's do," said the enlivened Hobson from the coveted seat next Caroline Darrah Brown, "let's all give them hard sleeping suggestions, all at the same time.... Maybe they won't wake up for a week." "Andrew," said Mrs. Buchanan as she looked with delight in his direction, "these are delicious things you and David have to eat. I am so glad you are well again and can enjoy them."
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