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Updated: June 16, 2025
There was to be a pair of ducks for Sunday's dinner and Uncle Rufus had carefully plucked them into a box in a corner of the kitchen, so that the down would not be scattered. Mrs. MacCall was old-fashioned enough to save all duck and geese down for pillows.
MacCall, and grabbed the toe of the stocking just as it was about to disappear. She yanked and Billy disgorged the hose. He had chewed it to pulp, evidently liking the taste of the dye. Mrs. MacCall threw the thing from her savagely and Billy lowered his head, stamped his feet, and threatened her with his horns. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Mrs. MacCall!" cried Ruth, soothingly.
Other members of the household did not look upon the Pomeranian, however, in the same light. Dot was apparently the single occupant of the sitting-room when Mrs. Forsyth bustled in. "I'll tell the girls," Mrs. MacCall said, briskly, and she shut the visitor into the room, for on this cold day the big front hall was draughty. Mrs.
There was no stove in the way in the dining-room, for the furnace put into the cellar by Uncle Peter only shortly before his death heated the two lower floors of the main part of the house, as well as the kitchen wing, in which the girls and Mrs. MacCall slept. The girls had begged Neale O'Neil to hang up his stocking with theirs, but he refused rather gruffly, it must be confessed. Mrs.
The deacon leaned forward in front of the little girls and Mrs. MacCall. His face was very red, and he shook an admonitory finger at the startled Neale O'Neil. "Young man!" he said, sonorously. "Young man, you take off that wig and put it in your pocket or leave this place of worship immediately." It was an awful moment especially awful for everybody in the Kenway pew. The girls' cheeks burned.
MacCall and Uncle Rufus, however, were prevailed upon to add their hose to the line. Aunt Sarah rather snappishly objected to "exposing her stockings to the public view, whether on or off the person," so she said.
School would open the next week and there was lots to do before that important event. Brooms searched out dust, long-handled brushes searched out cobwebs, and the first and second floors of the old Corner House were subjected to a thorough renovation. Above that the girls and Mrs. MacCall decided not to go.
"I couldn't stop if I didn't do something to pay you," Neale said, bluntly. "I'm no beggar." "I tell you!" Ruth cried, having a happy thought. "You can help us clean house. We must get it all done before school begins, so as to help Mrs. MacCall. Uncle Rufus can't beat rugs, and lift and carry, like a younger person." "I'll do anything," promised Neale O'Neil.
Neale was to have helped eat the plump hen turkey that Mrs. MacCall roasted, but the very night before Thanksgiving he came to Ruth and begged off. "I got to talking with Mr. Murphy this afternoon," said Neale, rather shamefacedly, "and he said he hadn't eaten a Thanksgiving dinner since his wife and child drowned in the Johnstown flood and that was years and years ago, you know.
"Will you stay to breakfast with us?" she asked. "Mrs. MacCall always gets up at six o'clock. And Ruth will want to see you, too. Ruth's the oldest of us Kenways." "Is this a boarding-house?" asked the boy, seriously. "Oh, no!" "It's big enough." "I 'spect it is," said Agnes. "There are lots of rooms we never use." "Could could a feller get to stay here?" queried the white-haired boy. "Oh!
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