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Updated: May 2, 2025
"Dav-id!" said my mother again, lifting an admonishing finger. The good minister saw nothing offensive in my remark, but even repeated it with a nod of understanding. "As solemn as I am now. Judge Malcolm, your son has quite accurately described this man Blight's way of speaking of saying one thing when he means quite another.
"He was just as solemn as you are now." Miss Spinner fell to choking again. My mother gave vent to a long-drawn "Dav-id!" an exclamation which I had come to fear as much as the Seven Seals, and her use of it now so unjustly made me feel as if every man's hand were against me, for Mr. Pound was solemn, and in using the best comparison at hand I meant no ill.
Dav-id!" "Yes, sir," I said. Penelope's hand was tightening in mine, and I glanced to my side, to see her standing very straight, and the blue ribbon was tilted as proudly as on that morning when we met by the mountain brook. "Dav-id!" cried my mother. "Yes, sir," I said, looking right at Mr. Pound. "I promised the Professor that I would take care of her always."
"Dav-id Malcolm," she cried, "the idea of you lettin' such a little 'un as her set on such a dangerous animal. Stop! Get down, I say, both on you!" I could not break through that apron, and my heart sank, for, instead of riding grandly home and presenting Penelope to my parents with a proper speech, we were threatened with an ignominious journey in the Savercool buggy. With Mrs.
He intervened, as much, I think, to save his immaculate clothes as me from being torn asunder. "Dav-id!" cried my father. "Mr. Blight Mr. Blight don't take her away!" I pleaded. Mr. Blight began to laugh. "Judge Judge release him," he said, and freeing me from the paternal grasp, he drew me toward him. When he had ironed out the wrinkled knees with his hand, he patted me on the head.
"I promised the Professor I'd look after her. I promised " "Dav-id!" exclaimed my father, and he grasped my arm and began to draw me away. My fear of him even could not restrain me, and I resisted, digging my fingers into the knees, clutching the folds of the trousers where Mr. Blight had so carefully arranged them to prevent them bagging.
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