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Updated: May 31, 2025
Vanderlyn's boudoir, where she had gone to get permission, when she unexpectedly met John. He had come home without notice and ahead of time from one of his long journeys. "Has she not come then, yet, my child?" said Kreutzer to the busy M'riar, as he returned.
I think I like Picture best." Aunt M'riar, not to be out of the conversation, took a formal exception to Uncle Mo's remark: "The ladies they know how old Old Mrs. Marrable in the country is, without your telling of 'em, Mo." "Right you are, M'riar! But they don't know nothing about old Mrs. Prichard." Uncle Mo had spoken at a guess of Mrs. Marrowbone's age, of which he knew nothing.
Nevertheless, the difficulty of rousing him to an active interest in this hidden embarrassment of hers, of which he had no suspicion, was so palpable to Aunt M'riar, that she was sorely put to it to decide on a course of action. And the necessity for action was not imaginary.
"Now, young potato-peelin's, how much money did the doctor hand you back for that diacklum?" "Penny. Said he'd charge it up to the next Dook that come to his shop." Thereupon Aunt M'riar taxed the speaker with perfidy. "Why, you little untrue, lyin', deceitful story," she said. "To think you should say it was only a ha'penny!" "I never said no such a thing. S'elp me!"
Its result was to produce in her hearer a determination to discover what had got her. Because it was evident that Jerry was right, and that something had. "One of the kids a-sickenin' for measles! Out with it, M'riar! Which is it Dave?" "No, it ain't any such a thing. Nor yet Dolly.... Anyone ever see such a candle?" "Then it's scarlatinar, or mumps. One or other on 'em!"
Aunt M'riar made no attempt at anything beyond mere exclamation; until, after the second detailed review of the facts, Gwen was taken aback by her saying suddenly: "Won't it be a'most cruel, when you come to think of it?..." "Won't what be cruel, Aunt M'riar?" "For to tell 'em. Two such very elderly parties, and all the time gone by! I say, let the rest go! I should think twice about it.
They murmured tales of crackers with mottoes; also of too much rich cake and trifle and lemonade, and consequences. So much space was needed to preserve them unsoiled and uncrushed until consigned to their purchasers, that Mrs. Burr and Aunt M'riar felt grateful for the unrestricted run of Mrs. Prichard's apartment, although both also felt anxious to see her at home again. Mrs.
It was easy for the moment to procrastinate, but how if the time should come for telling her that Dave would never come back no, never? But the time was not to come yet. For a few days Life showed indecision, and Uncle Mo and Aunt M'riar had a thumping heart apiece each time they stood by the little, still, white figure on the bed and thought the breath was surely gone.
Even if he could have suspected that her husband was still living, there was nothing in the world to connect him with this escaped convict. No wonder Uncle Mo's complete unconsciousness seemed to present an impassable barrier to a revelation. Aunt M'riar had not the advantages of the Roman confessional, with its suggestive guichet.
But this was not convincing, although the speaker wished to make it so; probably it would have been better had less effort gone to the utterance of it. For Aunt M'riar's was too obvious. Mr. Jerry laughed cheerfully, for consolation. "Come now, Aunt M'riar," said he, "you ain't the one to talk as if you was forty, and be making mention of your bones.
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