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Updated: April 30, 2025
Gustus is too sickly for me. I'm crazy about Kent. He's so big and strong and bossy!" A little pang shot through Lydia's heart. But she was saved a reply by Elviry, who as usual was within earshot. "Kent Moulton doesn't amount to anything. His father's got nothing but a salary. Gustus'll have the brewery." "Well, who wants to marry a brewery," sniffed Margery.
Some old hawg turnin' over in her bed," he said to the horse, and holstering the pistol he went racking on down Pigeon Roost Creek, with Christmas for Elviry and little Anderson in his saddlebags.
Elviry glanced at the blue serge skirt. "It'll do," she answered listlessly. Lydia looked at Dave desperately. At that moment there was a light step in the dining-room, and Margery came into the kitchen. When she saw Lydia she gasped. "Hadn't you heard? Oh, Lydia! You came anyhow!" and suddenly Margery threw herself down and sobbed with her face in Lydia's lap.
She had a kind of a risin' in the breast." "But my young uns little Anderson and and Elviry?" The sick man was clear up on his knees now, his long arms hanging and his eyes, behind their matted lids, fixed on Shem's impassive face.
People began to remove their money from his bank and for a time a run was threatened, then Dave resigned as president and the run was stayed. The drugstore owned by Dave was boycotted. The women of the town began to cut Margery and Elviry. The minister of the Methodist Church asked Dave for his resignation as Trustee.
"So are we," retorted Lydia. "How's Florence Dombey?" asked Margery. "Mamma, can't I stay and play with Lydia a while?" "We'll stay a few minutes," said Elviry, loosing her furs and settling back in her chair. "It's a real small place, Lizzie, but you can do so little work now, I s'pose it's just as well." Lydia had produced a pasteboard shoe box of paper dolls which she gave to Margery.
They say Levine's land hungry enough to marry a squaw. He's so dark, I wouldn't be surprised if he had Indian blood himself. Land knows nothing would surprise me about him. They say he's just naturally crooked." Lydia and Florence Dombey suddenly stood in front of Elviry. "Don't you say such things about Mr. Levine," said Lydia slowly, cheeks bright, eyes as blue as Florence Dombey's.
After the episode of the note, Lydia made a conscientious effort to play with Margery at recess and when vacation began, she called for the banker's daughter regularly every week to go swimming. Occasionally Elviry would invite her into the house to wait for Margery.
No one ever knew what Dave Marshall said to Elviry, his wife, but a day or so after, little Margery, in a fine white flannel bathing suit, appeared on the sand, about a quarter of a mile below the Willows. Here any bright day from the last of June to the first week in September, a dozen children might be found at play in and out of the water.
Kent and Billy will stand by us and we'll pull through. See if we don't." "I don't see why she needs to go to your house," said Elviry. "Let her stay right here, and go up to college with you if she will. And I don't want to go live on a farm, either." "Mother, you don't understand, yet!" exclaimed Margery. "Elviry," said Dave grimly, "our day is over.
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