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Updated: May 18, 2025
She had it on her mind that he lived among them, lonely and apart, and often anxiously she pondered in her own mind the question did poor Mr. Gibbon get his money's worth? "Deleah always chops the candied peel herself," Bessie explained. "She eats it, and feeds Franky on it. Mama, I should think Deda will soon take all the profit off your mincemeat if she eats the citron peel."
"I don't want Deda to know. She's such a blab, mama." "Oh, my dear, I don't like to hear you say that!" "But she is. And she listens to things." Here Bessie pushed the door behind her open, to reveal the culprit in her white nightgown on the other side of it. "I should be ashamed to be a Paul Pry!" Bessie said with indignation and scorn. Deleah was not at all abashed.
Are you sure?" she asked; and at that moment, unpropitious for her, Deleah appeared with her mother. "Mama! When Deda sits on the window-seat in the corner she can be seen from the street!" "Well, my dear?" "Well, mama! You don't wish Deda to make herself conspicuous, I suppose?" "Who says I make myself conspicuous?" an ireful Deleah demands. "Who has been saying anything about me?"
It is you that have spoilt Deleah, with petting and praising and telling her how pretty she is " "My dear Bessie!" "You don't say it in so many words, but you are always looking it at her. You are, mama! I see you doing it. And when Deda comes home I shall tell her what I think of the way she has behaved to me the sneaky way; I shan't spare her. She shall hear it all.
"A little, mama. They were a pair of Bessie's last year's ones, that were too small for her." "There you go! At me again!" Bessie cried. "Deda is proud because her foot is smaller than mine, mama. If you're a little weed of a thing like Deda, of course your feet are narrow and small. They have to be. There's no merit in it." "And I suppose Deleah danced her silk stockings into holes?" "No, mama!
"Then, if you knew you should have told us. Deda ought not to have been so sly about it, mama, if she knew." "We shall each have one guess; and Bessie, as a reward for her good-nature, shall have the first. Now, Bessie?" "I've known all along, too, miss. And what's more, I've known that although they were sent to you, they were meant for me. Reggie Forcus." "Wrong. Here is Emily with the pudding.
"There, I've spoilt my glove!" she cried, and turned upon her sister. "That's your fault, Deleah. You should have cut the cake when I asked you." Then she began to cry. "I get married," she sobbed; "mama and Deda care no more than if I had gone out for a walk. No one cares. They sit there and stare, and won't say anything; no one cares."
"That depends on how you look at these things," said Deleah, for the first time in her life feeling the desire to be unpleasant. "We sprang a surprise on you, eh?" "We were not at all surprised, Mr. Boult." "It will have to be 'George' now, won't it? We can't have Sister Deleah 'Mr. Boult-ing' me. Eh, Bess?" "You may call him 'George, Deda," said a magnanimous Bessie.
"He always does, I suppose?" "Always." "There!" said Bessie on the note of triumph, looking round. "There!" echoed Deleah as she helped herself to the mustard Mr. Gibbon was offering her. "Mama, do you hear Deda? She is not to mock me." "Bread, Miss Deleah? Pickles, Mrs. Day?" hastily interposes an obsequious Mr. Gibbon.
"I certainly shall not," Deleah said. "Are we to sit down tamely under such rudeness, then?" Bessie asked at large. "You never assert yourself, Deda you and mama. That's why people dare to treat you so. Sir Francis would not have sent for me like a servant, to give me his orders. What did you do, Deda? Stood there meekly, like an idiot, to listen, I suppose?" "Miss Deleah did what was right.
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