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Updated: June 29, 2025
Sally Furbush was the only cool and collected one present, and she did the honors of the house so gracefully and well, that but for the wildness of her eyes and an occasional whispering to herself, the bride would never have suspected her of insanity. "Come this way, Mary. I'll show you your chamber.
"Careful Tommy, you are dribbling it all over me." "Oh, Nancy, I'm so sorry. I ask you, isn't that stupid. Please excuse me." "A little lemon or a hot iron or soap and water will fix it, probably," said Furbush. Tom looked over at Furbush. He hated his liquid tones, like honey dripping on a blue plush sofa.
Sal Furbush had been invisible for hours, the girl with crooked feet trod softly as she passed up and down the stairs, Uncle Peter's fiddle was unstrung, and, securely locked in his fiddle box, was stowed away at the bottom of his old red chest, and twice that morning when no one saw her, Miss Grundy had stolen out to Patsy's grave.
Everyone understood that the criticism referred to had come from only one source, Furbush, and that Dawson was administering to him a public rebuke. Dawson remained staring at his blotter when he finished, and there was complete silence for several seconds. "Well?" he asked, raising his eyes. "Don't hesitate, gentlemen.
Furbush was not able to be present; and it was announced incidentally, that he had been transferred to Sophomore English. Of his proposed changes nothing had been said, although another change was made. It appeared that Mr. Dawson had been teaching The Winter's Tale for the past six years and that he wished the Department's permission to drop it for Cymbeline. Mr.
Her pride, however, received a fall when she learned that Sally Furbush had not only been invited, and presented with a black silk dress for the occasion, but that George Moreland, who arrived the day preceding the wedding, had gone for her himself, treating her with all the deference that he would the most distinguished lady.
Quickly divining that this must be Sal Furbush, Mary sprang back, but had not time to fasten her door ere the wild woman was there. In a tremor of terror Mary ran under the bed as the only hiding-place the room afforded, but her heart almost ceased beating as she saw her pursuer about to follow her.
Knight, as he helped Mary from the wagon, "what a racket; can't you contrive to stop it? you'll have Sal Furbush in your hair, for she don't like a noise." Mary glanced nervously round in quest of the goblin Sal, but she saw nothing save an idiotic face with bushy tangled hair; and nose flattened against the window pane. In terror Mary clung to Mr.
Perkins had insisted that five breadths of silk was sufficient, consequently Sally Ann looked as Sal Furbush said, "not wholly unlike a long tallow candle, with a red wick." Mrs. Perkins, who flourished in a lace cap and scarlet ribbons, greeted her son-in-law with a burst of tears, saying she little thought when they were young that she should ever be his mother! For the sake of peace Mr.
On the other hand, a certain number of the most promising men in the class were invariably drawn to him and, taking up his battles, defended him against all detractors. The Permanent Officers had to admit that he got "results," but they shook their heads. Jerome Furbush was notoriously a "case."
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