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Updated: May 16, 2025
"Is there not a letter from dear Uncle Ebeneezer? Let us gather around the box in a reverent spirit and listen to dear Uncle Ebeneezer's last words." "You can read 'em," snapped Mrs. Holmes, "if you're set on hearing." Uncle Israel wheezed so loudly that for the moment he drowned the deep purr of Claudius Tiberius. When quiet was restored, Mr.
"What do you mean?" demanded the girl, sinking into one of the haircloth chairs. "Where is Uncle Ebeneezer?" "Uncle Ebeneezer is dead," explained Harlan, somewhat tartly. Then, as he remembered the utter ruin of his work, he added, viciously, "never having known him intimately, I can't say just where he is." She leaned back in her chair, her face as white as death.
"After this," she said, slowly, her eyes wide with wonder, "we'll take everything apart before we burn it." Harlan was turning the brooch over in his hand and roughly estimating its value at two thousand dollars. "Here's something on the back," he said. "'R. from E., March 12, 1865." "Rebecca from Ebeneezer," cried Dorothy. "Oh, Harlan, it's ours!
Chester a thin, tremulous hand which lay on Dick's broad palm in a nerveless, clammy fashion. "Pray," he said, in a high, squeaky voice, "convey my greetings to dear Uncle Ebeneezer, and inform him that I have arrived." "I am at present holding no communication with Uncle Ebeneezer," explained Dick. "The wires are down." "Where is Ebeneezer?" demanded the old lady.
I know he would never speak of it to any one dear Uncle Ebeneezer was too finely grained for that but still I feel assured that somewhere within the walls of that sorely afflicted house, a sum of of money has been placed, in the hope that I might find it and carry out this beautiful work." "Have you hunted?" demanded Elaine, her eyes wide with wonder. "No not hunted.
"I don't want anybody here but my husband and Mrs. Smithers!" "Set quiet, my dear, an' make your mind easy. I'm sure Ebeneezer never intended his death to make any difference in my spendin' the Summer here, especially when I'm fresh from another bereavement, but if you're in earnest about closin' your doors on your poor dead aunt's relations, why I'll see what I can do." "Oh, if you could!"
"Look!" "Twenty-three dollars," he said. "Why, where did you get that?" "It was in my dresser. There was a false bottom in one of the small drawers, and I took it out and found this." "What in " began Harlan. "It's a present to us from Uncle Ebeneezer," she cried, her eyes sparkling and her face aglow. "It's for a coop and chickens," she continued, executing an intricate dance step.
Less than a week later, Uncle Israel and his bed were safely installed at Cousin Betsey's, and he was able to write twelve pages of foolscap, fully expressing his opinion of Harlan and Dick and the sanitarium staff, and Uncle Ebeneezer, and the rest of the world in general, conveying it by registered mail to "J. H. Car & Familey."
Pinned to the top was a faded slip of paper on which Uncle Ebeneezer had written, long ago: "Mrs. Judson always kept her best false front in the melodeon. I do not desire to have it disturbed.
Pleased with his contribution to literature, Uncle Ebeneezer had written a long and keenly comprehensive essay upon each relation. These bits of vivid portraiture were numbered in this way: "Relation Number 8, Miss Betsey Skiles, Claiming to be Cousin." At the end of this series was a very beautiful tribute to "My Dearly Beloved Nephew, James Harlan Carr, Who Has Never Come to See Me."
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