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Updated: June 23, 2025
Bossom. "So we're in love, are we?" He cast a guilty look around. "There's Mortimer, comin' down the path, an' only two fields away." "And it's a long story, is it? Well, I'll let you off this time," said Tilda. "But listen to this, an' don't you fergit it. If along o' your dawdlin' they lay hands on Arthur Miles here, I'll never fergive you no, never." "You leave that to me, missie.
Missed the sound o' wimmin's petticoats, 'e did." He turned fiercely on his son. "'Ere, don't you stand starin' there! You get 'ome, and fix up for the night. Now then, wot are you dawdlin' for, pig-'ead?" The boy slunk away. When he had disappeared, his father again took up the challenge of Mahony's silent disapproval. "I can't 'ardly bear the sight of 'im, doc. disgracin' me as 'e 'as done.
"Dawdlin'," answered the old woman, with a curtness that was eloquent, lifting the frying-pan from the stove, and shaking it into a more aggravated sputter. "Is she upstairs?" "I s'pose so. She gener'ly is, when there's anything doin' down." Mrs. Sproul put her hand over the baby's mouth and called upward, "M'lissy!"
Please, Miss Vilda, may I take Gay to see it, and will it hurt it if I wash Rags in it?" "Let 'em all go," suggested Samantha; "there's Jabe dawdlin' along the road, and they might as well be out from under foot." "Don't be too hard on Jabe this morning, Samanthy, he's been to see the Baptist minister at Edgewood; you know he's going to be baptized some time next month." "Well, he needs it!
Gentle, ease-loving natures, that might show in fair relief against a delicate background of luxury, become dull and lifeless in contrast with the coarser tints of poverty. In the parlance of those about her, Melissa was "dawdlin'," and those about us are likely to be just, for they speak from the righteous standpoint of results.
"Their'n gins a gallon a milkin'," she said, in rueful comparison. As she came up the slope with the piggin on her head, her husband was looking down from the porch with a lowering brow. "Why n't ye spen' the day a-milkin' the cow?" he drawled. "Dawdlin' yander in the cow-pen till this time in the mornin'! An' ter-morrer's Chrismus!" The word smote upon her weary heart with a dull pain.
Well, 's I was a-sayin', I guess it'll take 'bout eighteen hours by the clock to cut back six years. Thet's by the clock, ye understand. As a matter of fact, of course, we'll be just six years less'n no time in finishin' the trip." "Well," said Phoebe, briskly, "that's no kind o' reason fer dawdlin' about it now. Let's be startin'." "Where's the trunks?" said Droop.
"I suppose you can go, if the rest do," said her grandmother, "though it's an awful lazy way of spendin' an afternoon. When I was a girl there was no such dawdlin' goin' on, I can tell you. Nobody thought o' lookin' at the river in them days; there was n't time." "But it's such fun to watch the logs!" Rose exclaimed. "Next to dancing, the greatest fun in the world."
At this juncture a sharp knock on the parlor door interrupted the conversation. Florence's sister went to open it. She returned presently and said: "It's Gene. He's been dawdlin' out there on the front porch, and he knocked to let us know Miss Hammond's brother is comin'." Florence hurried into the parlor, followed by Madeline. The door stood open, and disclosed Stewart sitting on the porch steps.
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