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Spanish influenza, it was called, for no more visible reason than that it probably had its beginnings in Germany or India. On the Wednesday of Mrs. Schum's funeral five of the Amusement Enterprise office force were home with it, one little telephone operator, who occasionally laid the surreptitious offering of an orange or a carnation on Lilly's desk, succumbing.
At noon my wife come to me at my tailor's, and I sent her home and myself and Tom dined at Hercules' Pillars; and so about our business again, and particularly to Lilly's, the varnisher about my prints, whereof some of them are pasted upon the boards, and to my full content.
But with the plunge into brilliant but faulty execution of one of her "pieces," her little face would flood over and tighten up into the glyptic immobility of a cameo and her toes curl as they pressed the pedals. "The Storm King" of the Parlor Pianoforte Series was a favorite. The red would run up into Lilly's face and her hands churn the white keys into a curdled froth of dissonance.
If I am here asked whether I understood anything of what I had got by heart, I reply "Never mind, I understand it all now, and believe that no one ever yet got Lilly's Latin Grammar by heart when young, who repented of the feat at a mature age". And when my father saw that I had accomplished my task, he opened his mouth, and said, "Truly this is more than I expected.
It was a portion of Lilly's Grammar, and Ambrose regarded it with mingled pride and delight, though he longed to go further into those deeper revelations for the sake of which he had come here.
In an agony of anxiety over possible exclusion, Lilly's words came so fast they hardly allowed for the coherence of spacing. "How do you do, Mrs. McMurtrie? I've returned and I'm fine. I'm so sorry about that that night and the trouble I must have caused you. Thank you for sending my bag after me. It's a girl. She's the best little thing, Mrs. McMurtrie. Doesn't cry at all.
It was nothing of the kind, merely a cold struggle to get his wind back, without letting them know he was struggling: and a sheer, stock-stiff hatred of the pair of them. "I like the man," said Jim. "Never liked a man more than I like him." He spoke as if with difficulty. "The man" stuck safely in Lilly's ears. "Oh, well," he managed to say. "It's nothing.
It was a portion of Lilly's Grammar, and Ambrose regarded it with mingled pride and delight, though he longed to go further into those deeper revelations for the sake of which he had come here.
"Well, I will, but I oughtn't." Every evening until long after Lilly's dresses had descended to her shoe tops and until the ritual came to have a distinctly ridiculous aspect, there took place the one pleasantry in which Lilly and her father ever indulged. About fifteen minutes before seven, three staccato rings would come at the front-door bell. At her sewing or what not, Mrs.
You never came out enough from behind your tonsils. The refined stuff through a megaphone has about as much chance as a violet in the six-o'clock rush. In other words, dearie," finished Miss Kirk, her rather close-set eyes focusing upon the tip of Lilly's nose, "I think you're fired. Canned, so to speak. Replaced, as it were." Lilly laughed, forcing her head high to deny disconcertment.
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