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Updated: May 5, 2025
I see things differently from what I did that first day you know. Even Emmett don't seem the same any more." For several minutes there was a rattling of dishes, but no further speech from Belle. Georgina, not knowing what to say or do, stood poised uncertainly on the door-sill. Then Belle spoke again.
Opposite, across from our inn door-sill, where we lingered a moment before we began our journey through the streets, we could see for ourselves how thorough was this cleansing. A shopkeeper and his wife were each mounted on a step-ladder. One washed the inside and the other the outside of the low shop-windows. They were in the greatest possible haste, for they were late in their preparations.
He held out the letter and she took it and went out with her head up and scorn in the very way she trailed her skirt over the door-sill. But I'm no fool; it didn't need the way he touched the door-knob where she had been holding it, when he closed the door after her, to tell me what ailed him.
She had never realised so vividly that the Lord Jesus Christ was indeed born in a stable and cradled in a manger; and she trod softly, with her heart beating, like Joan's, faster than usual. They stood still for a minute on the low door-sill, their lantern casting its dim rays into the silent shed.
"And she is such a very pretty girl," continued Peggy, "so intelligent and graceful; don't you think so, Sam?" "Aw, yes, well enough for a rustic," said I, languidly. "I never could endure red hair, though!" Kate stopped on the door-sill; she had risen to go up stairs. "Gobble! gobble! gobble!" mocked she. I had heard that once before! Peter and Peggy roared; they knew it all; I was sold!
The newcomer seated himself between his friends, though in so doing he crowded Nick from the door-sill to the sidewalk, and composedly helped himself to what was left of their scanty breakfast. Better than nothing he found it and answered, as he ate, Glory's repeated inquiry, "What doin'? Why, scrappin', 'course. Say, parson, you hear me?
In a very few visits, the weasel found that it was among friends, and the trappers' log cabin became its home. I have a photograph of it, taken while it posed on the door-sill. The trappers said that often when returning at nightfall from their trap-lines, the weasel would meet them a hundred yards away on the trail, and follow them back to the cabin.
He turned, the first dew of many a long year welling from each eye, and stole away, out of the little yard and down the dark, slippery alley, to the street. Mrs. Riley still stood on the door-sill, holding the child. "Good-evening, madam!" "Sur, to you." She bowed with dignity. "Is Mrs. Richling in?" There was a shadow of triumph in her faint smile. "She is." "I should like to see her." Mrs.
"Which you have never come to thank us for. Never crossed our door-sill since we returned home! Does not your conscience sting you for your ingratitude?" He coloured deeply. "Indeed, Mrs. Jessop, it was not ingratitude." "I know it; I believe it," she answered, with much kindness. "Tell me what it was?" He hesitated. "You ought to believe the warm interest we both take in you.
He knew the man, and that his simple word meant as much as if it had been chiselled deep in marble. 'Good night, he said, throwing out an impetuous hand. While he hastened away under the trees Summers stood upon the door-sill, gazing after him, ruefully shaking the tingling fingers of his right hand.
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