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Updated: June 14, 2025
"Very, very good, too," said Mrs. Goodriche; "let it be placed by the pin-cushions; and now for Bessy." Bessy began to giggle and to move herself about in a very uneasy way. "If you have nothing to show, Bessy," said her aunt; "or if you are not ready, we will excuse you." "It does not signify," answered Bessy, "I am as ready now as I ever shall be. I can make nothing of the silk."
Goodriche dictated what she was to write: it was generally something of what she had herself said about the chapter; but what with blots, and bad spelling, and crooked lines, poor Bessy's book was not fit to be seen. This exercise filled up nearly an hour, and a most heavy hour it was: and then Mrs. Goodriche produced a story-book one lent to her by Mrs.
Goodriche; and Lucy, opening her parcel, showed an old-fashioned housewife with many pockets: she had managed her silk so, that the clouds upon it formed borders for the outside and each pocket; she had overcast a piece of flannel for the needles, and put a card under that part of the housewife; she had lined it to make it strong, and had put some ribbon to tie it with, and had made a case for it of printed calico, and a button and a button-hole.
Goodriche, who had not heard the story before, could not understand what she was reading about. Emily looked down, and became quite red. Lucy looked up full of wonder, and half inclined to smile; but a gentle look from her mother reminded her what civility and kindness required of her.
Fairchild, I have certainly had a most delightful day, and I wish that I could spend all my Sundays with you as I have done this; for, in general, I must confess I do find the Sunday the dullest day of all the seven." "Then, ma'am," said Lucy, "I hope you will come often again;" and Mrs. Fairchild joined in the invitation. A Visit to Mrs. Goodriche
Goodriche did not choose to hear, but when she got into the parlour, she threw herself back on the sofa as if she were dying of fatigue. Mrs. Goodriche handed a Bible to her, saying: "We will begin the morning with our best book: you shall read a chapter whilst I go on with my work; come, find your place where did we leave off?"
Come, sit round me upon these little stools, and hearken." The children were very much pleased when they heard Mrs. Goodriche say she would tell them a story, for Mrs. Goodriche could tell a great many pretty stories. The Old Story of Mrs. Howard "About fifty years ago," said Mrs. Goodriche, "a little old lady, named Mrs. Howard, lived in this house with her maid Betty.
Goodriche to her sleeping-room. She had put up a little couch-bed in the corner of the same room for Bessy, as she had no other room to give; and this had been settled between the ladies the day before. Mrs. Goodriche had told her niece to follow her upstairs, which Miss Bessy might perchance have done, after a while, had not Betty appeared coming from the kitchen to carry up the luggage.
Goodriche, and without looking round at any dear tree or window, or garden-seat or plot of flowers, they sprang into the coach, and felt for the first time that riding in their father's carriage was no cure for an aching heart.
Goodriche gently, "you had better set down your cup and wipe your frock, or I shall have to ask Mrs. Fairchild to lend you one of Henry's pinafores." "It is not hurt, aunt; it will all come out. I threw a cup of milk over it the other day, and no one could see the mark unless I stood quite opposite them, and they looked quite hard at it." "Well, then, Miss Bessy," said Mrs.
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