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Updated: May 26, 2025
The boys lifted the light boats and carried them into the woods, turning them over so that the keels were up. "Now the question is," said Bob, who seemed by common consent to have been elected leader, "shall we walk along the shore and get drenched, or take a chance of finding our way through the woods?" To their astonishment, Libbie burst into a fit of hysterical weeping.
You know: the poetry about 'Beautiful Snow. You or Timothy should remember it." "Pah!" exclaimed Bobby, grumblingly. "I'll give you the proper version: "Beautiful snow! If it chokes up this train, It certainly will give me a pain!" "Goodness me, Bobby!" retorted her cousin, Libbie, "your versifying certainly gives me a pain."
It was Libbie Marsh, who had been obliged to quit her room in Dean Street, because the acquaintances whom she had been living with were leaving Manchester.
Victorious love had set her crown upon his brows, bestowing dignity upon his years and glory upon his manhood. His explanation came fearlessly to his lips. "There ain't no wreck," he said quietly. "All the same I'm glad you saw my lantern an' came, 'cause I've got somethin' to tell you all. Me an' Sarah Libbie are goin' to get married." For a moment there was an incredulous hush.
"You can't coast through the woods, anyway, Betty," Libbie whispered in the French period. "You may be a wonder, but how can you go through the tree stumps?" "Don't intend to," whispered back Betty. "There's a cleared space in there I'll show you." "Young ladies, if you please " suggested Madame politely, and the girls jerked their thoughts back to translation.
"John" proved to be a good-looking young man, not extraordinary in any way, but with a likeable open face and square young shoulders that Libbie, who startled them all by turning poetical late that night, declared were "built for manly burdens." Louise, Esther and Bobby were the last to squeeze into the car, Libbie, the prudent, having ducked earlier.
That night, as Libbie lay awake, revolving the incidents of the day, she caught Franky's voice through the open windows. Instead of the frequent moan of pain, he was trying to recall the burden of one of the children's hymns, Here we suffer grief and pain, Here we meet to part again; In Heaven we part no more. Oh! that will be joyful, &c.
"No doubt, Anne, it's ordered for the best; but oh! don't call him, don't think he could ever ha' been, a trouble to his mother, though he were a cripple. She loved him all the more for each thing she had to do for him I am sure I did." Libbie cried a little behind her apron. Anne Dixon felt still more awkward in introducing the discordant subject. "Well!
They are messages from Methuen, Sotheran, Libbie, Irvine, Hutt, Davey, Baer, Crawford, Bangs, McClurg, Matthews, Francis, Bouton, Scribner, Benjamin, and a score of other friends in every part of Christendom; they deserve and they shall have my respectful nay, my enthusiastic attention.
"She hates to ride in an elevator, and yet I know by actual count she's gone up in the Monument a dozen times." "I suppose every one who comes to Washington wants to go sightseeing," said Betty Littell, or, as she must begin to be called now, Libbie, "I know how it is in our little town at home.
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