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Updated: May 2, 2025
The aggressive Nettie Dwight, two hopelessly commonplace sophomores, cousins, from a little town down the river, and Dora composed the Market Street contingent. They were all very much in awe of Eleanor's beauty, and of Beatrice's elaborate gown and more elaborate manner. Betty Wales, enveloped in one of Mrs.
Bingo, silky and snarly, climbed on to her steeply sloping black-satin lap, ate the chocolate drop keeping all the while a liquid and adoring eye upon his mistress then slid down and ran to curl up on Eleanor's skirt.
Again the little curly head was bent over the well, somewhat puzzled which to believe, Aunt Eleanor or Mark, but half-inclined to credit Mark's eyes rather than Aunt Eleanor's words. "Do you think that can be one of his scales?" asked she, pointing to a small piece of tin which glittered in a stray sunbeam among the stones.
The house was very still evidently its inmates were all out watching the hoop-rolling. Betty found herself walking softly, in sympathy with the almost oppressive silence. Eleanor's door was ajar, so that Betty's knock pushed it further open. "May I come in?" she asked, hearing Eleanor, as she supposed, moving about inside.
She knew from several outspoken comments that Jerry admired Eleanor's shoulders, and as she looked at her own, she was not sorry that he was to compare them to those of the other girl. After this brief disposal of the question, she gave it no more thought, working with desperate speed to complete all her preparations.
"I like being bothered," and did not mention that she had given up the golf tournament because the practice would have interfered with her position as Eleanor's confidante. There were nice things to share too. Miss Raymond wrote a prompt and cordial answer to Eleanor's note about the theme course.
Eleanor's quick understanding glance swept from the erect, embarrassed, boyish figure in the badly fitting cheap suit and obviously new tan shoes, to the perfectly groomed officer lounging with nonchalant grace with his crossed arms on the table.
He saw, which Eleanor had failed to see, that much more had been intended than was expressed. The appeal to Eleanor's pious labours as separate from his own grated sadly against his feelings as a father. And then, when he came to the "darling boy" and the "silken tresses," he slowly closed and folded the letter in despair. It was impossible that Mr.
Tom laughed merrily for he liked the bluntness of this girl, but he was surprised at the flush Barbara manifested as she wondered if this astute sister of hers could have heard that message read: "Mother mentioned 'a fortune' and 'marriageable men." But Eleanor's expression was as innocent as a babe's just then.
He was in his bedroom, wrapped up in a blanket, shivering and hot and headachy. The chance of Edith's "running into Lily" would, of course, be even less if she were at Fern Hill, than it was now when she was going back and forth in the trolley every day; but he was so uncomfortable, physically, that he didn't think of that; and his preoccupation made him blind to Eleanor's hurt look.
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