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Updated: May 14, 2025
Timothy Durgin consent to drive away with her husband; then she went with evident reluctance, and with many pleadings to be allowed to come "just ter help out a bit" at any time. After Nancy had gone, Pollyanna came into the living-room where Mrs. Chilton was sitting alone, her hand over her eyes. "Well, dearie, shall I light up?" suggested Pollyanna, brightly. "Oh, I suppose so."
Not that I'm squeamish; I have lived four years among sailors, and have been in rougher places than you ever dreamed of; but all the same I am afraid of the tavern. I've seen many a brave fellow wrecked on that reef." "You always was a bit stuck up," said Durgin candidly. "Not an inch. I never had much reason to be; and less now than ever, when I can scarcely afford to drink water, let alone beer.
He wore the white apron and white cap of his calling, but Westover heard him speak Yankee through his nose to one of the stablemen as they exchanged hilarities across the space between the basement and the barn-door. "Yes," Mrs. Durgin admitted, "he's an American; and he learnt his trade at one of the best hotels in Portland. He's pretty headstrong, but I guess he does what he's told in the end.
" Well, I guess you'll think I'm about as forth-putting as I was when I wanted you to give me a three-hundred-dollar picture for a week's board." "I only got a hundred and sixty, Mrs. Durgin," said Westover, conscientiously. "Well, it's a shame. Any rate, three hundred's the price to all my boarders. My, if I've told that story once, I guess I've told it fifty times!" Mrs.
He wa'n't invited to the picnic, and he a'n't one to put himself forward. If she didn't want him to stay, all she had to do was to do nothin'. But to make him up a plate before everybody, and hand it to him to eat with the horses, like a tramp or a dog "Mrs. Durgin filled to the throat with her wrath, and the sight of her made Westover keenly unhappy.
"I really don't know much about it. One hears tremendous stories at Boston of the rate of living among the swell students in Cambridge. People talk of five thousand a year, and that sort of thing." Mrs. Durgin shut her lips, after catching her breath. "But I fancy that it's largely talk.
Hardy might have been fleeing, from time to time, in the trips which had become the habit of his life. That this constant moving from place to place had been the bane of his existence was a theory that Dorothy had formed a year before. Yet, for all she knew, it might have been young Foster Durgin whom her uncle was trying to avoid! The train connection for Rockdale was wretchedly timed.
The steam-whistle had sounded the call, and there was no time for exchange of words; so Richard gave his comrade a bright nod and passed by. Durgin turned and stared after him. "Looks as if Slocum had taken him on; but it never can be as apprentice; he wouldn't dare do it." Mr. Shackford had nearly finished his frugal dinner when Richard entered.
Durgin still kept for hers, on his way up to his room, when a sound of angry voices came out to him. Then the voice of Mrs. Durgin defined itself in the words: "I'm not goin' to have to ask any more folks for their rooms on your account, Jeff Durgin Mr. Westover! Mr. Westover, is that you?" her voice broke off to call after him as he hurried by, "Won't you come in here a minute?"
Durgin was impatient to be seen about the house, and to retrieve the season that her affliction had made so largely a loss. The people who had become accustomed to it stayed on, and the house filled up as she grew better, but even the sight of her in a wheeled chair did not bring back the prosperity of other years.
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