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Updated: June 6, 2025
Otherwise he might easily have been made a fool of by persons who thought they knew more about Glory's doings than he did. For instance, there was Katrina's experience at church the first Sunday in Advent. Katrina had been to service, and upon her return Jan had noticed that she was both alarmed and depressed.
At the first sight of him, Katrina caught her breath sharply and blushed. It was Katrina's despair that she blushed so easily. As the young man neared them the spectators achieved the effect of obliterating themselves from the landscape. They melted into space. There remained the young man, Mr. Connor, and a divinely flushed Katrina. The young man looked up at her without smiling.
Meantime she thought of what the sexton had said of her child that it was large and beautiful and would some day be a credit to the family; that it would grow up to be as good as its father and grandfather or even better. Everything passed off thus peacefully and quietly until it came to Katrina's turn at the table with her Glory Goldie. The little girl simply would not be vaccinated.
No, indeed it wasn't, but the little girl had called to Jan in a dream, and commanded him to go up to the forest. Now it was Katrina's turn to sigh! It must be the madness come back, thought she. She had been expecting it every day for some little time, for Jan had been so depressed and restless of late.
He brought to Katrina, at different times and from remote parts of the house, one white shawl, six photographs of the children, an essay written by their son, aged ten, two books, a bib to meet a sudden need of the baby, and Katrina's address-book. He did these things, and he did them cheerfully, and with the unmistakable ease of frequent repetition. I glanced at Jessica.
A man from McDowell's Creek, about six miles from Flora, took his first train-ride since the road was put through, fifteen years ago." "How extraordinary that seems! It was the day of his life, I suppose." Katrina's eyes were large with amazement.
Now it would not be nearly so hard to die. He had no idea as to how much time had elapsed before he again heard Katrina's voice close to him. "Jan, dear, how do you feel now? You're not going to die and leave me, are you?" Katrina sounded so doleful that he had to look up at her. Then he saw in her hand the imperial stick and the green leather cap.
We heard the suggestion of the rest of her task as she closed the door. "Where is that box of pens I got last week?" Apparently their lurking-place was a distant one; Katrina's absence was long. When she returned, she volunteered to show us the house. We surmised that her desire was to get away from the sound of that summoning voice, and even as we rose we realized the futility of such an effort.
Ichabod had been calling late one evening, and, his way home being long, Katrina's father lent him a horse to make the journey; but even with this advantage the youth set out with misgivings, for he had to pass the graveyard.
But when we sought eagerly for such details, Katrina, with shameless indifference to dramatic possibilities, painted for us an unromantic, matter-of-fact old German, kind to her when he remembered her existence, but submerged in his library and in scientific research. We further learned that they ate five meals a day at Katrina's home, with "coffee" and numerous accompaniments in between.
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