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Updated: May 22, 2025
It was the coldest Saint Valentine's eve that Kentucky had known in twenty years. In Lloydsborough Valley a thin sprinkling of snow whitened the meadows, enough to show the footprints of every hungry rabbit that loped across them; but there were not many such tracks. It was so cold that the rabbits, for all their thick fur, were glad to run home and hide.
Her ideas of grandfathers, gained from stories and observation, led her to class them with fairy godmothers. She had always wished for one. The day they moved to Lloydsborough, Locust had been pointed out to her as her grandfather's home. From that time on she slipped away with Fritz on every possible occasion to peer through the gate, hoping for a glimpse of him.
She could not understand what they meant by "bank failures" and "unfortunate investments," but she understood enough to know that her father had lost nearly all his money, and had gone West to make more. Mrs. Sherman had moved from their elegant New York home two weeks ago to this little cottage in Lloydsborough that her mother had left her.
"He had gotten possession of that trained bear in some way, and probably took a fancy to Jones because he could whistle and dance all sorts of jigs. He probably thought it would be a good thing to have a child with him to work on peoples' sympathies. They walked all the way from Chicago to Lloydsborough, Jones told me, excepting three days' journey they made in a wagon.
"Will they be out here all winter?" asked Meyers, who was a newcomer in Lloydsborough. "Yes, their father and mother have gone to Florida, and left them here with their grandmother Maclntyre." "I imagine the old lady has her hands full," said Meyers, as a sound of scuffling in the next room reached him. "Oh, I don't know about that, now," said the station-master.
There was something strangely familiar about the child, especially in the erect, graceful way she walked. Old Colonel Lloyd was puzzled. He had lived all his life in Lloydsborough, and this was the first time he had ever failed to recognize one of the neighbours' children. He knew every dog and horse, too, by sight if not by name.
Why he should have chosen Lloydsborough Valley as the place to settle for the remainder of his life, no one could tell. He kept kimself away from his neighbours, and spent so much time roaming around the woods by himself that people called him queer.
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