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Updated: May 15, 2025
In fact, I guess there isn't anything about Mr. Easterbrook that she doesn't notice. Aunt Hattie likes Mr. Easterbrook lots better than she does the violinist. I heard her talking to Mother one day.
To her anything that isn't done in the purest English way stands ipso facto self-condemned immediately. A day or two later a second letter arrived from Miss Easterbrook, in reply to one of Lucy's suggesting a rendezvous. I confess it drew up in my mind a somewhat painful picture. I began to believe my wife's fears were in some ways well grounded. "Mrs.
Easterbrook was more comfortable to live with. The violinist is the kind of a man that makes you want to sit up and take notice, and have your hair and finger nails and shoes just right; but with Mr. Easterbrook you wouldn't mind a bit sitting in a big chair before the fire with a pair of old slippers on, if your feet were tired. Mr. Easterbrook doesn't care for music. He's a broker.
"The spectacles are good. Perhaps, after all, dear Bernard may escape. I don't think he's at all the sort of person to be taken with a dove-coloured bonnet." For some days after Bernard came home from Cambridge we chaffed a good deal among ourselves about Miss Melissa Easterbrook. Bernard took quite my view about the spectacles and dress.
Also, if you will be good enough to tell me from what depot you leave London, and by what train, I will go along with you in the cars. I'm unused to travel alone. "Respectfully, "MELISSA P. EASTERBROOK." Lucy gazed at it in despair. "A creature like that!" she cried, all horror-struck. "Oh, my poor, dear Bernard! 'The ocean, she says! 'Go along with you in the cars! 'Melissa P. Easterbrook!"
Easterbrook proposed or not. I only know that all of a sudden he stopped coming. I don't know the reason. I don't overhear so much as I used to, anyway. Not but that I'm in the library window-seat just the same; but 'most everybody that comes in looks there right off, now; and, of course, when they see me they don't hardly ever go on with what they are saying.
Some days he's talked a lot with me asked me questions just as he used to, all about what I did in Boston, and Mother, and the people that came there to see her, and everything. And he spoke of the violinist again, and, of course, this time I told him all about him, and that he didn't come any more, nor Mr. Easterbrook, either; and Father was so interested!
Her relations with Welsh evangelistic work had long been close and helpful, and by means of Howel Harris, Trevecca had become familiar to her. Fletcher of Madeley was appointed President, although he was not to reside there permanently; and Joseph Easterbrook resident tutor.
Then I went on to tell him how I thought it was the prettiest one I ever saw, and 'way ahead of even Mr. Easterbrook's. "And, pray, who is Mr. Easterbrook?" asked Father then. "The violinist, perhaps eh?" Now, wasn't it funny he should have remembered that there was a violinist? But, of course, I told him no, it wasn't the violinist.
And I was almost afraid it was too long, till I remembered that Father had asked me for it; he had asked me to tell him all about what I did on Christmas Day. So I sent it off. March. Yes, I know it's been quite a while, but there hasn't been a thing to say nothing new or exciting, I mean. There's just school, and the usual things; only Mr. Easterbrook doesn't come any more.
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