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Updated: April 30, 2025
Uncle Billy's old-maid sister, who lived on Devil's Fork, had been cooking for him at home since the last taking to bed of June's step-mother. Bub had "growed up" like a hickory sapling. Her cousin Loretta hadn't married, and some folks allowed she'd run away some day yet with young Buck Falin.
An involuntary shudder proved that she was not without feeling. So did the quick disclaimer: "No, no! Those rooms are closed. He occupies the one Miss Tuttle had before she went away." "Oh, then, Miss Tuttle is gone?" Loretta disdained to answer. She had already said enough to cause her to bite her lip as she disappeared down the basement stair. Decidedly the boys were right.
This man is my friend; he is working in my interests, and if you care for me you must not fail him." "Indeed I won't, Miss Lawton! I'll do whatever he tells me.... You said that I was to keep my eyes open. Does that mean that there is something you wish me to find out for you?" she asked shrewdly. "I cannot tell you exactly what you are to do for me, Loretta.
What she took out, or whether she took out anything, this spy upon her movements could not say, for when Loretta heard the drawer being pushed back into place she drew the curtains close, perceiving that Miss Tuttle would have to face this window in coming back.
After letting contracts for Milk and Vegetables, Loretta and the other specimens of our Best People zipped over to the Country Club, breaking into silvery Laughter every time the Speedometer made a Face at the Sign-Board which said that the Speed Limit was 12 Miles an Hour.
It had only been a flash from out the lower corner of the left eye of Loretta as she floated along past the big columns of the Palazzo of the Doges, but it had gone through the young gondolier and out on the other side, leaving a wound that nothing would heal. She had not intended to hurt him, or even to attract him; he only happened to be in the way when her search-light illumined his path.
All the other years of my occupation those before her coming and since her going were, of course, full of the kind of joy that comes to a painter, but these eleven years well, these had all of this joy and then, too, they had Loretta.
You will understand everything some day. What about the Irish girl, Loretta Murfree?" "President Mallowe's filing clerk? He dismissed her only this morning, on a trumped-up charge of incompetence. She's here now, having some lunch, up in my dressing-room. Would you like to talk with her?" "I would, indeed," he assented, nodding as Anita pressed the bell.
When one's knowledge has been gained by lingering behind doors and peeping through cracks, one is not so ready to say what one has seen and heard. Loretta is in that box, and being more than a little scared of the police, was glad to let her anxiety and her fears overflow into a sympathizing ear. Won't she be surprised when she is called up some fine day by the coroner!
He broke in hotly: "You jest let June alone, Aunt Tilly, you'll have yo' hands full if you keep yo' eye on Loretty thar." Already when somebody was saying something about the feud, as June came around the corner, her quick eye had seen Loretta bend her head swiftly over her work to hide the flush of her face.
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