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Updated: April 30, 2025
Young Doane stood indulging in rustic repartee with bright-eyed Elviry Prooner, a deep-bosomed Diana, who, next to Dorothy Thornton, was accounted the "comeliest gal along siv'ral creeks." When Bas Rowlett joined the group, however, interest fell promptly away from Pete and centred around this more legitimate pole.
"I don't see how John Levine's reputation about Indians or pine lands can hurt me any," protested Lydia, angrily, "and I just think you're the impolitest person I know." Elviry snorted and started to speak but Margery interrupted. "You are impolite, Mama! It's none of our business about Lydia if she wants to be common." Lydia rose, holding the paper parcel carefully in her arms.
She cuddled Florence Dombey in her arms and gave one ear to Margery's question as to the names and personalities of the paper dolls, the other to Elviry's comments. "It ain't so small," sniffed Lizzie. "It's bigger'n anything you ever lived in, Elviry, till Dave sold enough lumber he stole from the Government to start a bank." Elviry was not to be drawn into a quarrel.
"Oh, that was her mother's fault! The only good thing about this boarding-school deal is that it gets her away from Elviry Marshall. Put more nuts in here, Lyd. You like her now, don't you?" "Yes, I do," replied Lydia, honestly, "though she's an awful silly. She never reads anything, and she flunked all her Thanksgiving examinations."
"Here come Miss Towne and Olga!" cried Kent. "Margery'll be late, of course." At nine-fifteen Margery was driven up in state by Elviry, and at nine-twenty the carryall was off to the north in a cloud of dust, leaving Adam howling dismally at the gate.
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