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Updated: May 4, 2025
"I hadn't heard. Is it yes, of course it must be serious. I'm sorry." She was struck by the instantaneous change in his manner. From being, part of him, anyhow, a little remote wool-gathering would have been Aunt Lucile's term he was, vividly, here. It wasn't possible to doubt the reality of his concern.
"Things were rather against you, Charlotte. I like to see you loyal. Do you still think this girl the sort of friend you care to have?" Charlotte hung her head. "I don't know," she faltered. The truth was, Lucile's excess of devotion was beginning to grow tiresome. There were other of her schoolmates who, she could not help seeing, were more desirable as friends, but they now held aloof.
He was satisfied that the girl knew what she was doing and that it represented her real wishes. His sister's satisfaction on these points would have to be vicarious. The surmise had formed itself irresistibly in Lucile's mind that John himself was involved in this decision of Mary's.
"You or Bunny either." And so the show that Bunny and Sue gave came to an end yet not quite an end, either. For the play was given over again the week after, and more money raised for the Home for the Blind. And among those in the audience were Mart and Lucile's Uncle Simon and Aunt Sallie.
Charlotte had herself freely criticised the Terrace, but this did not keep her from resenting Lucile's remarks, and she carried away with her a consciousness of the friction. As she walked home, she felt a vague dissatisfaction with life in general, and heartily wished she had not gone. She could not help seeing, just a little, why Aunt Caroline did not care for the Lyles.
After a few nights the vigil was dropped and the remaining days on the island were given over to the pleasures of camp life. The discovery of a freshly abandoned fire on the beach some miles from camp proved that Lucile's belief that the brown boy could take care of himself was well founded. His footprints were all about in the sand.
"All buncombe, my dear," said Edna decidedly. "That flag talk didn't take the curse off the statement that the war is all wrong." "He had to say something patriotic, or he'd have been mobbed," was Lucile's serious comment. "I hadn't thought of Jake Kasker, before, but he may be the culprit." "Isn't he the only German in town who has denounced our going into the European war?" demanded Edna.
When you saw her surrounded by them, working and quarreling with them, talking that horrible polyglot of French, Italian and English, which she slipped into so easily, you realized how exotic the environment of the Dearborn Avenue house must have been to her and how strong a thing her passion for John Wollaston, to enable her to endure five years of it, of finikin social observances, of Aunt Lucile's standards of propriety!
"I can grasp St. Vincent's side of it. Many irons in the fire, and Lucile owns a bench claim on the second tier of French Hill. Mark me, Corliss, we can tell infallibly the day that Frona consents to go to his bed and board, if she ever does consent." "And that will be?" "The day St. Vincent breaks with Lucile." Corliss pondered, and the colonel went on. "But I can't grasp Lucile's side of it.
You can glorify it; but if you are only an ordinary person, you are made absurd by a name you cannot live up to." This was a new view to take of it. Charlotte wavered, and really Lucile's influence was a little on the wane when the encounter with Aunt Caroline gave it new life. At school next day Charlotte came again under her spell.
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