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Updated: June 22, 2025
Tea was ready neatly arranged on the table, though all was of the plainest, a little carefully-made toast to tempt father's uncertain appetite the only approach to luxury when Mr. Fairchild came in and sat down in the one arm-chair rather wearily. He was a tall thin man, and he stooped a good deal. He had a kindly though rather nervous and careworn face and bright intelligent eyes.
"But we 'll have to get that water out of there before we can do anything." Fairchild interposed. "If we can't get at the vein up here, we 'll have to get at it from below. And how 're we going to do that without unwatering that shaft?" Again Harry pulled at his mustache. "That's just what 'Arry 's thinking about," came his answer finally. "Le 's go back to town.
Goodriche a good-evening, and thanking her for her kindness, they returned home. The next morning Mr. Fairchild got up early, and went down to the village. Breakfast was ready, and Mrs. Fairchild and the children waiting at the table, when he came back. "Get your breakfast, my dear," said he to Mrs. Fairchild; "don't wait for me." So saying, he went into his study and shut the door. Mrs.
Fairchild suddenly realized that he was all but whipped, that the psychological advantage was all on the side of Squint Rodaine, his son, and the crazy woman who did their bidding.
Miss Crosbie continued to soothe the little girl, and say kind things to her, which only made her seem to feel the more. Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild were certainly surprised, but they took no notice; and after a little while Lucy became calm, and the affair passed off, Miss Crosbie appearing to be rather pleased at the manner in which her present had been received.
Burke, when they could get near to her through the crowd of living things; "come in, the tea is brewing; and you must be very thirsty." And she took up an end of her white apron and wiped her brow, remarking that it was wonderful fine weather for the corn. Mr. Fairchild and Henry followed Mrs.
Fairchild was making up for all the years he had plodded, all the years in which he had known nothing but a slow, grubbing life, living them all again and rightly, in the few swift moments of a dance. The music ended, and laughing they returned to the side of the hall. Out of the haze he heard words, and knew indistinctly that they were his own: "Will will you dance with me again tonight?"
It was all covered over with dust, and the trimming crumpled past recovery; but she gave it a good shaking, and down she came, not in the least troubled at the accident. When she got into the parlour, she found Lucy and Emily seated each with her small task of needlework; their other lessons were finished; and Mrs. Fairchild, too, appeared with her work. Mrs.
The papa of Georgian children! We know him well, that awfully massive and mysterious personage, who seemed ever to his offspring so remote when they were in his presence, so frighteningly near when they were out of it. In Mrs. Turner's Cautionary Stories in Verse he occurs again and again. Mr. Fairchild was a perfect type of him. Mr.
If it's only to vex you, I will go to the river if I don't fish I will bathe. Will that please you better?" Henry Fairchild could not make out exactly what was said next, because three or four people spoke at once in answer to Tom's last words, and as all of them spoke as loud as they could in order to be heard, as always happens in these cases, no two words could be made out clearly.
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