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There was something eerie in the night, in the wreck and confusion of the storm, in our loneliness without father and mother, and in the possible awfulness and change that were so near, over there in Grandfather Holabird's lighted room. Breakfast was late the next morning. It had been nearly two o'clock when father had come home.
At least a dozen men, including Alf Reesling, heard this threat, and not one of them was to forget it soon. Anderson Crow noticed that Mrs. Holabird's bob-sled drove away without either Miss Banks or 'Rast Little in its capacious depths. Miss Banks announced that her three friends from the city and she would stay behind and close the schoolhouse, putting everything in order.
"Yes, ma'am," Harry answered back, in an excessively cheery way. "We're coming"; and up the stairs all three came together, greatly to Mrs. Holabird's astonishment. "You never know where help is coming from when you're trying to do your duty," said Barbara, in a high-moral way. "Prince Percinet, Mrs. Holabird." "Miss Polly-put " began Harry Goldthwaite, brimming up with a half-diffident mischief.
We put a bright, steady light in the brown room, to shine through the south window, and show father that we were all right; directly after a lamp was set in Grandfather Holabird's north porch. This little telegraphy was all we could manage; we were as far apart as if the Atlantic were between us. "Will they be frightened about you at home?" asked Ruth of Leslie. "I think not.
During the turmoil incident to the dispersing of the gathered hosts Miss Banks made her way to 'Rast Little's side and informed him that the Farnsworths were to take her to Mrs. Holabird's in their big sleigh. 'Rast was floored. When he started to remonstrate, claiming to be her "company," big Tom Reddon interposed and drew Miss Banks away from her lover's wrath.
Holabird's five-acre field, the click of the mowing-machine sounding like some new, gigantic kind of grasshopper, chirping its tremendous laziness upon the lazy air, when mother came in from the front hall, through her own room and saw her there. Mrs. Holabird never came through the rooms without a fresh thrill of pleasantness.
John lives in New York, and has two sons and three daughters. There are of us Stephen Holabird's family just six. Stephen and his wife, Rosamond and Barbara and little Stephen and Ruth. Ruth is Mrs. Holabird's niece, and Mr. Holabird's second cousin; for two cousins married two sisters. She came here when she had neither father nor mother left.
Ruth thought to herself, "Yes; there is plenty of room out of doors; and yet people crowd so! I wonder why we can't live bigger!" Mrs. Holabird's thinking was something like it.
A great silver poplar went over by the fence, carrying the posts and palings with it, and upturned a huge mass of roots and earth, that had silently cemented itself for half a century beneath the sward. Up and down, between Grandfather Holabird's home-field and ours, fallen locusts and wild cherry-trees made an abatis.
Roderick; and we knew afterward what her abstract report had been, in Grandfather Holabird's hearing. Grandfather Holabird knew we did without a good many things; but he had an impression of us, from instances like these, that we were seized with sudden spasms of recklessness at times, and rushed into French embroideries and sets of jewelry.
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