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Updated: April 30, 2025
This did not prevent her going faithfully once a month to call on Margery Marshall. And these visits were rather pleasant than otherwise. Margery was going through the paper doll fever. Lydia always brought Florence Dombey with her and the two girls carried on an elaborate game of make-believe, the intricacies of which were entirely too much for Elviry Marshall, sitting within earshot.
Margery Marshall and Elviry went to Atlantic City and Newport this summer. John Levine was sure to take supper at the cottage once or twice a week, but he was very busy with his political work and with the enormous sales of mixed-breed lands to the whites. It was just before college opened that Amos announced that he was going to buy the one hundred and twenty acres John had set aside for him.
He ground his teeth and abandoned his intention of immediate entry for there swinging around the turn, with her buxom vigour of stride, came Elviry Prooner. Rowlett scowled as he folded his arms and leaned by the window, and then he saw Dorothy appear in the back door of the room and he cautioned her in a low voice: "Elviry's comin' back. I warns ye not ter make no commotion."
Lydia, holding the doll, returned his look indignantly. "I'm not going to tell my father to come to see you. I'll answer right now. We'll think and say what we please and you can do whatever you want to about that nasty old note." Dave suddenly laughed. "There, Elviry, that's what I mean about Lydia's being the real thing. You can't help my being your friend, Lydia, no matter what happens.
Oh, isn't it wonderful!" "Valedictorian! My little Lydia! Scholarship and popular vote! I wish your mother was here. What does Lizzie say?" Lydia giggled. "I left Lizzie carrying on an imaginary conversation with Elviry Marshall, after she'd cried over me for half an hour. And, Daddy, nobody was surprised but me! Not the teachers or anybody!"
Her face and hands and ankles were dirty but her eyes and the pink of her cheeks were clear. "Come on, Marg," said Lydia, "and, Mr. Marshall, please, won't you come too and see how well she does it?" "Run and get into your bathing suit, daughter," said Marshall. "Elviry, want to come?" "No," snapped Elviry.
"I don't see why everybody acts so," cried Elviry, "as if what you'd done was any worse than every one else's doings." Margery raised her head. "Of course it's worse! A thousand times worse! I could have stood Dad's even having an Indian wife, better than this." Dave looked at Margery helplessly and his chin quivered. Lydia noticed then how old he was looking.
Of course, going to school, she can't do it only Saturdays and Sundays. She went to the Hop last night. She looked lovely in a cream chiffon. One of the college professors asked who was that little beauty. Come in, Margery." Margery strolled into the room in a bright red kimona. "How de do, Lydia," she said. "Hello, Margery. Want to play paper dolls?" "Paper dolls!" shrieked Elviry.
Dorothy's right hand, armed with the blade, rested inconspicuously under her apron, but the glitter in her eyes was unconcealed and to Bas, who smiled indulgently at her arming, she gave the brief command, "Come out hyar under ther tree whar Elviry won't hear us."
On the Saturday a week before election, Lydia went to pay her duty call on Margery. Elviry admitted her. It was the first time Lydia had seen her since the New York trip. "Margery'll be right down," said Elviry. "She's just finished her nap." "Her what?" inquired Lydia, politely. "Her nap. A New York beauty doctor told me to have her take one every day.
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