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Updated: May 20, 2025
"Grimgriffinhoof won't speak to you to-night," said Jeannie Hadden, after tea, upon the balcony. She was mistaken. There was something different, still, in Leslie Goldthwaite's look, as she came out under the sunset light, from the looks that prevailed in the Thoresby group when they, too, made their appearance.
There was likewise a silver coronation medal of George III. But old Peter Goldthwaite's strong-box fled from one dark corner to another, or otherwise eluded the second Peter's clutches till, should he seek much farther, he must burrow into the earth. We will not follow him in his triumphant progress step by step.
Worthington had it now as he hurried up the street, and he presently discovered that he was walking in the direction opposite to that of his own home. He crossed the street, made a pretence of going into Mr. Goldthwaite's drug store, and hurried back again. When he reached his own library, he found Mr. Flint busy there at his desk. Mr. Flint rose. Mr.
She is a supervising, regulating kind of a woman, and very strict about well, other people's expenditures; but she was glad that the "hard thoughts" were lifted off from her. "I knew," said Ruth, again, "that we were all good people, and that it must come right." "Don't tell me!" says Miss Trixie, intolerantly. "She couldn't help herself." Leslie Goldthwaite's world of friendship is not a circle.
Never, in any of his vagaries, though each had made him happy while it lasted, had Peter been happier than now. Perhaps, after all, there was something in Peter Goldthwaite's turn of mind, which brought him an inward recompense for all the external evil that it caused.
Goldthwaite's; resultant, partly, from her old-fashioned New England ideas of womanly industry and thrift, born and brought up, as she had been, in a family whose traditions were of house-linen sufficient for a lifetime spun and woven by girls before their twenty-first year, and whose inheritance, from mother to daughter, was invariably of heedfully stored personal and household plenishings, made of pure material that was worth the laying by, and carefully bleached and looked to year by year; partly, also, from a certain theory of wisdom which she had adopted, that when girls were once old enough to care for and pride themselves on a plentiful outfit, it was best they should have it as a natural prerogative of young-ladyhood, rather than that the "trousseau" should come to be, as she believed it so apt to be, one of the inciting temptations to heedless matrimony.
If she had, she would have perceived a quick lifting and lightening upon it; then a questioning that would not very long be repressed to silence. The glasses were put in the cage again, and presently Leslie came back to a little low seat by Miss Goldthwaite's side, which she had been occupying before all this talk began. "Other people puzzle me as much as myself," she said.
Thinking she looked really ill, Miss Goldthwaite came round to the porch after the service. "Lucy, what is it, child? your face is quite white. Do you feel well enough?" Lucy smiled a little, and slipping her hand through Miss Goldthwaite's arm, walked with her down the path. "This has been cleaning week," she said in explanation, "and I have had more to do than usual.
Brown was just weathering the corner, by Peter Goldthwaite's house, when the hurricane caught him off his feet, tossed him face downward into a snow bank, and proceeded to bury his protuberant part beneath fresh drifts. There seemed little hope of his reappearance earlier than the next thaw.
She did not understand what Anna meant by what she said. "Why Anna of course you can come to see your brother whenever you like to, and I will always pay your fare. I thought you understood all about that, and we will be very glad to have your nieces come to stay with you as often as they like. There will always be room enough in a big house like Mr. Goldthwaite's." It was now for Mrs.
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