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Updated: June 9, 2025
Mam Liz's voice, in guarded tones came from the hall, "Yes marm, he's to home, but he's plumb tuckered out. Is yo' got to see him? Yo' ain't wantin' him to go out agin is yo'?" Another voice answered, but the listening doctor could not distinguish the reply. "Oh sho mam. Come in, come in. He's in the library." A moment the nurse stood, hesitating, in the doorway. Dr. Harry sprang to his feet.
It lay very quiet in Liz's arms; it never cried, and was no longer fretful, and it seemed to listen with a sort of mild approval to the tones of her voice as they rang out in the dreary streets, through which, by day and night, she patiently wandered.
A slow smile, in which there was the faintest touch of sarcasm, was in Teen's face as she glanced at the tawdry figure sitting on the fender end. 'A' richt; I'll tell her. An' guid-nicht to ye; I'm very much obleeged, she said, and, taking Liz's tin box in her hand, she left a trifle hastily, as if afraid she should be longer detained.
Knowing what we British people are, can't you almost predict the bias of Aunt Liz's mind? How she would solace herself that her dividends were not derived from the prostitution of English girls but only of 'foreigners'?..." Norie: "You seem to have studied the geography of the business pretty thoroughly!..." I have talked it over with Stead from time to time.
He'll be back afore lang." The old woman seemed content, though she did not understand a word of Liz's Scotch. "Bless mine boy," she said, with a mild smile at Daddy, who replied with an amiable nod. But this state of comparative comfort did not last long. In half an hour the water came over the threshold of the door and flooded the floor.
Daddy, hearing nothing, and believing from the pleasant expression of Liz's countenance that she appreciated his remarks, nodded to Mrs Winklemann cheerily, and smiled. "Ha!" laughed her son; "you is von stranch being, old Liz ver stranch." Having finished the filling of his "moder's" pipe and lighted it for her, Herr Winklemann arose and followed his friend Michel out of the hut.
"He will get into worse trouble if he often misuses his large and heavy hand as he has misused it here. But you forgive him, brutal as he is, and I say no more of him, except that I wish he deserved it. You have no young child?" The woman shakes her head. "One as I calls mine, sir, but it's Liz's." "Your own is dead. I see! Poor little thing!"
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