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Updated: July 11, 2025
"Well, mother, all I can say is, that never again, unless I am forced to, will I visit Owl Hoot. And under any circumstances I will never run the risk of getting benighted there." "Well, well," said the farm-wife, rising heavily to her feet and preparing to depart, "maybe George would like to hear about the thing you've seen when he comes back."
The farm-wife lifted the girl's hand from the bedpost and caressed it in loving sympathy. Then she endeavoured to draw her away. "Come, child, come with me. You can do no good here." Prudence shook her off roughly. Nor did she answer. Her mother did not renew her attempt. All watched while Danvers forced some of the spirit between Grey's tightly-closed lips and then stood up to note the effect.
While his attention was distracted, however, Andra became involved in an exchange of local recipes with a newcomer to the district, a farm-wife whose husband had had a fancy to try the westward farm lands. He joined the husband in a wry grimace at the loquacity of women, and simultaneously caught sight of a distant figure crossing a ridge somewhat north of him.
The good farm-wife had not lived on the prairie all her life without contracting to the full the superstitions which always come to those whose lives are spent in such close communion with Nature. She could talk freely with these two girls when no one else was present.
The girl pointed at the silk trousers and jacket lying just inside the nearest trunk, and the farm-wife picked them up gingerly, letting them unfold as she did so. Just for one moment she inspected them, then she hurriedly let them drop back into the trunk as though they were some dangerous reptile, and, folding her arms, glared into the girl's smiling face in comical reproach.
Thank goodness I'm not of the travelling kind; I'm sure I should hide my face for very shame every time I saw a Customs officer." The round, rosy face of the farm-wife assumed a deeper hue, and her still comely lips were pursed into an indignant moue.
Malling's footsteps came creaking down the stairs. Suddenly Prudence's hands went up to her face as she thought of the shock awaiting her mother. Alice dragged her away to a chair. Iredale and Robb stood looking down at the two objects on the floor. Master and hound were lying side by side. Sarah ran to the door and met the farm-wife.
I don't quite know why, but I want to confront Hervey with the man he accuses. Now tell me what you think." "I'm thinking you make the third of a pack of fool-heads," said the farm-wife gently. "George is no murderer, he's not the killin' sort. He's a man, he is. Then why worrit?
As we hurried back over the rolling highway, thunder-clouds grandly rose out of the west, and great drops of rain gave us moist warning of the coming storm. W was watching us from the cabin door, as we made the last turning in the road, and, accompanied by the farm-wife and her two daughters, came tripping down to the landing.
It was a pleasant thought that it was all so orderly and flourishing, since this girl was its future mistress. He reached the veranda before his approach was realized by the farm-wife within. Then, as his footsteps resounded on the rough surface of the flooring of split logs, Mrs. Ransford came bustling out of the parlor door.
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