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Updated: May 10, 2025
You'd better go up alone he'll bar it better one at a time." "Yes, go, sister," said Louis, who heard the last part of Hannah's remarks, and felt that he could not take his father by surprise.
"Vat you do?" he would demand, glaring. And Mr. Wiley would laugh insolently. "You think I done it, do you, Dutchie huh!" He would saunter past, up the stairs, and into the Bumpus dining-room, often before the family had finished their evening meal. Lise alone made him welcome, albeit demurely; but Mr. Wiley, not having sensibilities, was proof against Hannah's coldness and Janet's hostility.
Every once in a while there rose up before her fabulous instances of this thrift, of Italians and Jews who, ignorant emigrants, had entered the mills only a few years before they, the Bumpuses, had come to Hampton, and were now independent property owners. Still rankling in Hannah's memory was a day when Lise had returned from school, dark and mutinous, with a tale of such a family.
And as for cribbing meat or sugar, Sally might occasionally abstract a lump or two, or pop a veal-cutlet into her mouth while bringing the dishes downstairs: Sallies would giddy creatures bred in workhouses; but Hannah might be entrusted with untold gold and uncorked brandy; and Miss Honeyman would as soon think of cutting a slice off Hannah's nose and devouring it, as of poaching on her lodgers' mutton.
I was about to say you might come to my store and get whatever you want, at any time, without payment, if you will let me drop in and see you sometimes of evenings," whispered the dealer. "Sir!" said Hannah, looking up in innocent perplexity. The man repeated his proposal with a look that taught even Hannah's simplicity that she had received the deepest insult a woman could suffer.
Thomson returned later in the evening, Ralph was standing by the mantel-piece, but Shocky noticed that his chair was close to Hannah's. And good Miss Nancy Sawyer looked in Hannah's face and was happy. We are all children in reading stories. We want more than all else to know how it all came out at the end, and, if our taste is not perverted, we like it to come out well.
And they didn't notice me at first, and then Ethel shrieked out: "Oh, it's mother!" And Milly said: "Aunt Hannah's dead, mother. Is Uncle Meshach dead?" You can't understand how queer I felt. I felt as if Milly would go on asking and asking: "Is father dead? Is Bessie dead? Is Bran dead? Are you dead?" 'I know, he said reflectively.
Dame Hannah's presence did her good, for she fancied she recognized in her voice something that had been peculiar to her mother's, when she had played with her and pressed her with special affection to her heart.
Opening off it on one side was a trim, nicely furnished parlour and on the other a well-stocked pantry. "We'll light the fire in the stove in a jiffy and have a real good supper," said Kate exultantly. "Here's cold roast beef and preserves and cookies and cheese and butter." Before long we had supper ready and we did full justice to the absent Hannah's excellent cheer.
Hannah's curiosity was not chastened by much reflection, and some things were overheard which verified the old maxim that "walls have ears."
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