Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 29, 2025
There was a famous cook Emeline Simmons a mulatto woman, who was equally at home in French dishes and Maryland-Virginia kitchen mysteries a very wonder with canvasback and terrapin who later refused a great money offer to he chef at the White House whom John was able to secure. Nothing could surpass could equal her preparations. The charges, like the victuals, were sky-high and tip-top.
He dumped the packages and newspapers on the table and began sorting the letters. "Here you are, Emeline," he said. "Here's Miss Graham's mail and somethin' for you." "For me?" The housekeeper was surprised. "A letter for me! What is it, I wonder? Somethin' about sellin' the house maybe." She took the letter from him and turned to the light before opening it.
There was a famous cook Emeline Simmons a mulatto woman, who was equally at home in French dishes and Maryland-Virginia kitchen mysteries a very wonder with canvasback and terrapin who later refused a great money offer to he chef at the White House whom John was able to secure. Nothing could surpass could equal her preparations. The charges, like the victuals, were sky-high and tip-top.
All the details of the affair, even the track of the bullets which crashed into that golden head, were mercilessly printed. The reader, surprised by a sob, dropped his paper. "What! Are you crying, Mrs. Arnold?" "It was so cruel!" sobbed Emeline. "And Billy Wentworth, like a savage, helped to do it!" "He had provocation, no doubt, though it is a horrid deed.
He had formed the habit of joining "the boys" in the evening; he was surly and noncommittal with his wife, but Julia, hanging about the lower hall door or playing with children in the street, always heard a burst of laughter as he joined his friends; everybody in the world except Emeline liked George! Poor Emeline she could easily have held him!
Miss Miniver soothed her with a new stick of gum and a pincushion that looked like a fat little pink satin leg, with a smart boot at one end and a ruffle of lace at the other, and left Julia peacefully settled down to sleep. But Julia did not remember anything of this in the morning, and the pincushion had rolled under the bed, so Emeline never knew of it.
She had naturally nothing to teach her daughter. Emeline's father occasionally thundered a furious warning to his daughters as to certain primitive moral laws. He did not tell Emeline and her sisters why they might some day consent to abandon the path of virtue, nor when, nor how.
"Have I been a patient man?" he inquired, standing between her and her uncle's house. "I waited for you to come to me." "I am obliged to go somewhere," said Emeline, plucking the leaves and unsteadily shifting her eyes about his feet. "I cannot stay on the farm all the time." Through numbness she felt the pricking of a sharp rapture.
She was much attached to Clara, who was a sweet-tempered girl, and felt a week's absence from her as a real privation. Observing the disappointment of Emeline, Mrs. Minturn said, a little impatiently: "I think you might live without seeing Clara every day. For some time past, you have been little more than her shadow. I don't like these girlish intimacies; they never come to any good."
At last she discovered that it was the then popular strains of "The Maiden's Prayer" floating up through the floor from the piano in the sitting-room below. She jumped up, threw a shawl over her nightgown, and hurried downstairs trembling. There was nobody in the sitting-room; the piano was silent. She ran to Mrs. Dent's bedroom and called hysterically: "Emeline! Emeline!"
Word Of The Day
Others Looking