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Aunt Patty had given her a rag doll that she had when she was a little girl, and it was over fifty years old. It was undeniably sweet, because it had been steeped in lavender, but it was not very pretty. There was a curious little wooden cradle Aunt Patty's brother had made. All the children's story-books were up here in a case Dele had made out of a packing box.
Emerging from the canon, I follow in a general course the tortuous windings of the Dele Baba Su through another ravine- riven battle-field of the late war, and up toward its source in a still more mountainous and elevated region beyond. The shades of evening are beginning to settle down over the wild mountainous country round about.
Theodore, who was now going over to Ireland. "Tell Ben that The. is going to write to him," remarked Dele. "He said so in his last letter." When they returned to Beach Street, they found Doctor Joe waiting for Hanny. But Ben said afterward he wished he had gone instead, he was quite longing to see them all. And he was delighted with the prospect of a letter.
Walter said good-night and declared he had had a splendid time, and Dele must thank Cousin The again. The four others bundled into the stage, which was crowded, but some kindly disposed people held both Nora and Hanny. They had quite a habit of doing it then. Jim had been wondering what they would say at home. Of course he knew now he ought not have stayed.
Dele spoke of it." Ben looked straight at his brother, out of the frankest of eyes. It was Joe who changed colour. "I hate things to go crosswise. And when something keeps you just a little ruffled up all the time " Ben drew his brows. Was he really unconscious of the trouble? "You go there a good deal, you know.
It turns out to be the Koordish village of Malosman, and the people are found to be so immeasurably superior in every particular to their kinsfolk of Dele Baba that I forthwith cancel my determination and accept their proffered hospitality.
It is out of bloom now; but another year you can come over early in May and see the 'hawthorn blossoms white' that poets never tire of praising." Dele broke off a sprig for herself, and one for Hanny. The spaces were larger, the houses farther apart.
The evening air is cool with a suggestion of frostiness, and the occupants of the tent are found crouching around a smoking tezek fire; they are ragged and of rather unprepossessing appearance, but being instinctively hospitable, they shuffle around to make me welcome at the fire; at first I almost fancy myself mistaken in thinking them Koords, for there is nothing of the neatness and cleanliness of our late acquaintances about them; on the contrary, they are almost as repulsive as their sedentary relatives of Dele Baba-but a little questioning removes all doubt of their being Koords.
She was reading the English essayists and Wordsworth, and learning about the great men and women. Ben walked out to the Bowery to put them in the stage; and Dele said, rather ruefully: "I just wish we could study and read together. I miss The. so much, I could always ask him questions; but now I have to look up everything myself, and it's slow work."
She had never asked anything like this before. It had the flavour of a totally new proposition. But he was a game sport. "All right," he said. "You be ready when I come at seven. None of this 'wait two minutes till I primp an hour or two' kind of business, now, Dele." "I'll be ready," said his wife, calmly.
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