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Updated: September 16, 2025
I " She put her hand to her eyes, and as she paused Harriet thought she was crying, but a moment later, when she removed her hand, her eyes were dry. "Why did you come to to see me, Hettie?" questioned Harriet. "Because," was the slow-coming reply, "I thought maybe he had wrote back to you." "He has never written to me, Hettie never a line." The face of the girl brightened.
"I don't think," protested Harriet, "that he was ever deeply interested in me. You must not think that. In fact, I believe now, Hettie, that you and he will be happily married some day if he ever gets out of his trouble." Hettie drew in her breath quickly and held it, raising a glad glance to the speaker's face. "Why do you think so, Harriet? oh, you are just saying this to make me feel better."
"Howdy, all," said Mrs. Peavey in an utterly gray tone of voice. "Mis' Mayberry, that Circuit Rider have never come from Bolivar yet. Do you reckon his horse have throwed him or is it just he don't care for us Providence folks and don't think it worth his while to come say the words over Sister Bostick?" "Oh, he come 'most a half-hour ago, Hettie Ann," answered Mother Mayberry quickly.
When the man had joined the group outside, Worthy came from behind the counter into the pen, wiping his hands on a sheet of brown paper. "I don't think thar's a thing fer any o' yore folks, Miss Hettie," he said to the girl, "but I'll look jest to satisfy you." He took a bundle of letters from a pigeon-hole and ran them hurriedly through his hands.
She leaned over and touched her visitor on the arm. "You say that your husband talks a great deal when he is drunk?" she asked. "Yes, his tongue is never still unless he's asleep. It's awful the way he raves and swears at times." "Hettie, do you suppose he will tell what he knows about what we did at the hospital."
"It was the big bushman I saw there?" said another person, and Alice Deringham felt a curious little quiver in her fingers as she waited the answer. "Yes. Hettie will feel it. She made such a fuss of him, but it mayn't have been his fault altogether. He is quite a good-looking man, if he is a trifle lame, and the girl may have thrown herself at him. They sometimes do."
Carter. He was always in a hurry and I didn't care about looking at myself in the mirror anyway; nobody else ever looked at me and what was the use? And to-night that Rene triumph made me feel no different from one of Miss Hettie Primm's conceptions that I had been wearing for ages with indifference and total lack of style.
He had none of the old chivalrous sympathy which such a demonstration had once evoked, nor any of the old indulgence for a love which he had hoped to see die, and yet, just from his passionate contact with Dixie Hart, he was full of comprehension and pity for his wife's plight at least, as he now saw it. "Listen to me, Hettie," he began, and his voice shook with deep feeling.
Mr. Westerfelt, Hettie Fergusson is out in the kitchen, just crazy to know if you will withdraw the charges against Toot so that he can come back home." "I wouldn't prosecute that man," laughed Westerfelt, "not if he'd killed my best friend. Tell her that, Mrs. Floyd." "Well, she'll be crazy to hear it, and I'll go tell her." She went into the hall and quickly returned.
As they reached the house the old woman, with timid, halting steps, and better dressed than Henley had ever seen her before, came forward and extended a limp hand. "Howdy do? How did you leave Chester?" she inquired. "All right," he answered. "Where is Hettie?" The question was addressed to her, but she stared mutely, and with some agitation looked at her husband. "I forgot to tell you."
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