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Updated: June 9, 2025
But just see if I am not right; he will become precisely the same as the rest of us. And the teacher was right. Miss Thyra went and called into the speaking-tube: 'Will Trofast's cutlets be ready soon? The maid's voice came up from the kitchen: 'They are on the window-sill cooling; as soon as they are all right, Stine shall bring them up.
Hearing the maid's knock, and her murmured: "Count Rosek to see you, sir," he thought: 'What the devil does he want? A larger nature, drifting without control, in contact with a smaller one, who knows his own mind exactly, will instinctively be irritable, though he may fail to grasp what his friend is after. And pushing the cigarette-box toward Rosek, he turned away his head.
At the first it seemed as though even this would be a dangerous task, for the wind blew hard in a contrary direction, and the deeply-laden boats began to be in peril of foundering. But as we stood watching them from the bank, and saw their jeopardy, and some were for recalling them and waiting, the Maid's voice suddenly rang forth in command: "Leave them alone, and hasten forward with the others.
And this was the plan of the Crow. He would steal from every dweller in Birdland a feather, and see whether he could not make himself more beautiful than the Peacock's cousin himself. Now the Crow was a skilful thief. He could steal the silver off the King's table from under the steward's very nose. He could steal a maid's thimble from her finger as she nodded sleepily over her work.
In the lane near Belthorpe he met a maid of the farm not unknown to him, one Molly Davenport by name, a buxom lass, who, on seeing him, invoked her Good Gracious, the generic maid's familiar, and was instructed by reminiscences vivid, if ancient, to giggle. "Are you looking for your young gentleman?" Molly presently asked.
No fiat from without had bound her; but love had brought her to his feet. There was something in him which triumphed alike in her revolt and her submission. Meanwhile, in the cool drawing-room to which the green persiennes gave a pleasant foreign look, Lady Tranmore had been waiting for the maid's return.
When Delia returned to her maid's room, the morphia which had been administered was beginning to take effect, and Weston, an elderly woman with a patient, pleasing face, lay comparatively at rest, her tremulous look expressing at once the keenness of the suffering past, and the bliss of respite. Delia bent over her, dim-eyed. "Dear Weston we've arranged it all it's going to be done here.
Then home to dinner, and Sir G. Carteret and I all the afternoon by ourselves upon business in the office till late at night. So to write letters and home to bed. Troubled at my maid's being ill. This morning, till churches were done, I spent going from one church to another and hearing a bit here and a bit there.
While she was still in this process of realization, there was a soft knock at her door and a whispered, "It's Matilda, ma'am," at her keyhole. She unlocked the door, admitted Matilda, and crept back into her second maid's bed. They gazed at each other a moment without speaking. Matilda's face was gray with awe and helpless woe. They whispered about their predicament. What should they do?
They heard the maid's voice, then a cry of "At last!" and Emma Dean fairly charged into their midst. "I never was so glad to see any one in all my life," she cried, with a joyful wave of her hand. "How I have missed you while you have been gallivanting about New York without giving the friend of your freshman days a thought. You might have sent me a postcard, you know."
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