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Updated: June 17, 2025
For so long the poor child "couldn't eat no thin'," and when at last Minta's appetite returned, her loving black nurse would give her anything she wanted, and if the fever hadn't hopelessly damaged the little one's digestive glands, Mammy Lou's unfailing "l'il snacks for her honey-chile" would have completed the wreckage. At first the trouble was not noticed. Minta rarely spoke of suffering.
Emmy Lou leaned across and put the pencil back on the little boy's desk. Then she prepared herself to copy digits with her stump of a pencil. Emmy Lou's were always stumps. Her pencil had a way of rolling off her desk while she was gone, and one pencil makes many stumps. The little boy had generally helped her pick them up on her return.
"How beautiful she must have been " said Aunt Louise. "Is " said Uncle Charlie. "But she has the little grandchild," said Aunt Cordelia; "she is keeping the home for him. She is happy." And Aunt Cordelia took Emmy Lou's hand.
The prosecuting attorney was a young Southerner, and when he saw the prisoner at the bar he started violently, but checked himself. When the prisoner saw him, however, she made no effort at self control. "Lawd o' mussy," she cried, spreading out her black arms, "if it ain't Miss Lou's little Bobby."
He had been forced to turn his head sharply away when he passed the village tobacco store, for every nerve cried out for the solace of a good pipe, but he felt more than repaid for the sacrifice by Lou's honest rapture over the poor things he had been able to get for her.
And by the time it was absolutely dark they had washed the dishes and sat before Lou's tent looking over the night lights of The Corner and hearing the voice of its Great White Way opening. She had not even asked why he did not bring her straight to Jack Landis. She had looked into Donnegan's tent, furnished with a single blanket and his canvas kit, and had offered to share her pack with him.
Truly an Aunt Cordelia is the last one to stand before a Miss Lizzie. Uncle Charlie took his brother-in-law in the buggy, and they drove to the school. Emmy Lou's father went in. Uncle Charlie sat in the buggy and waited. Uncle Charlie wondered if it was right. Miss Lizzie was one of three. One was in an asylum. One was kept at home. And Miss Lizzie, with her rages, taught.
Kitty could have told her that the yard of the absent Trustee ran back to the pork house. Also that the Trustee present was part owner of that offending building. And further that Emmy Lou's Uncle Charlie, leading an irate neighbourhood to battle, had compelled the withdrawal of the obnoxious business. But to Emmy Lou only one thing was clear.
For a moment Jim laughed with her; then the seriousness of their situation was borne in upon him, and his face sobered. "It's the kind of an omelet that won't come off in a hurry, I'm afraid," he said. "How on earth are we going to walk into Riverburgh like this?" It was the first time that he had appealed to her, and Lou's laughter ceased also, but her cheerful confidence did not fail her.
Uncle Michael having put the room to rights, sweeping and dusting, with many a rheumatic groan in accompaniment, closed the windows, and going out, drew the door after him and, as was his custom, locked it. Meanwhile, at Emmy Lou's home the elders wondered. "You don't know Emmy Lou," Aunt Cordelia, round, plump, and cheery, insisted to the lady visitor spending the day; "Emmy Lou never loiters."
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