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Updated: May 5, 2025
He's only Frank Hemstead, my nephew, bound to be a forlorn home missionary, he says." "Well, then," she said, drawing a long breath, "if he can't see for himself, let him marry a pious Western giantess, who will go with him for the sake of the cause instead of himself." "In the mean time," suggested Mr. Dimmerly, "we will go back to New York and have a good time as before."
"It's in the Bible," answered Lottie, stoutly; at which there was a great explosion. "Miss Marsden equals modern commentators in amplifying the text," laughed Hemstead. "Well," persisted Lottie, "if it isn't just so written, I know enough of human nature to be sure that that was just how it happened." "On with the story!" cried Mr. Dimmerly. "Come, Miss Martell."
"Cards are associated in my mind with father, mother, and quiet home evenings." "I have chiefly seen them played by rough characters, and in questionable places," he replied quickly. "I'm sorry you visit such places," she replied in a tone of rebuke. Even Mr. Dimmerly and his sister laughed at this remark, as coming from Lottie, while the others were almost convulsed.
"Frank, I wish to see you," said his aunt, quietly; and he followed her to her own private sitting-room. Mr. Dimmerly indulged in his chuckling laugh as he looked after them. "Now she's going to 'stop' it, he he In the mean time I'll go out and stop the brook from running down hill." "The time has come," said Mrs.
As the sleigh just then came up, she settled the question by springing in and taking her place on the driver's seat. Hemstead was perfectly nonplussed, and Mr. Dimmerly, who had stood in the door and heard what had been said, retreated rapidly, as he broke out into the most irrepressible chuckle in which he had yet indulged.
Dimmerly gave a few awkward preliminary ahems, and then said, "So you go West next Monday?" "Yes. I wish to get off on the first train." "You seem very anxious to get away." "I am sorry, now, I ever came," the young man said, in tones of the deepest sadness. "Thank you." "O, it's no fault of yours. You and aunt have been very kind, but "
But Lottie took it as much to heart as if he had purposely neglected to speak to her. And when, a little later, Mr. Dimmerly commenced a formal eulogy, Hemstead with an expression of intense annoyance raised his hand deprecatingly, and pleaded that no one would speak again of what he had done, she feared that all the glowing words she meant to say would be unwelcome after all.
By noon Hemstead had finished his sermon, and Lottie had completed her mysterious fancy-work; and both were ready for the festivities of Christmas eve. Mr. Dimmerly was a great stickler for the old English customs, and always had the yule-log brought in with great ceremony.
In his silent abstraction at the table it was evident to Lottie that his mind was dwelling upon the problem of the mysterious glimmer far out upon the river. Before the meal was over, he abruptly excused himself, but soon returned as if relieved, and said, "It is no more to be seen." "I told you how it was," said Mr. Dimmerly. "The man floated down as far as he wished, and now has pulled ashore."
"Give me a clear, steady cold. Thaws and spring are synonymous with the sloppy season or sentimental stage." "I, too, think steady cold is better in the season of it," remarked Mr. Dimmerly, sententiously. "But how about it out of season, uncle?" asked Lottie. "Your hint, perhaps, is seasonable, Lottie," quietly remarked her aunt, though with somewhat heightened color.
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