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Updated: May 27, 2025
"Then Dave Marshall is the best fellow in our community, I suppose," said Lydia. "Oh, Gee, Lyd! After all, he's Margery's father!" Lydia looked at Kent thoughtfully. Since the day under the willows, he had not made love to her, yet she had the feeling that Kent was devoted to her and she wondered sometimes why he liked to spend as much time with Margery as with herself.
But even Margery's newly regained patience was to be sorely tried that afternoon, when, after an early lunch, the Camp Fire Girls donned their bathing dresses and went in swimming off the float in front of the Worcester camp. "Come on, Dolly," she cried. "See that rock out there? I'll race you there and back!"
He stopped, listened, and then approached the source of the sounds, and soon stood at the open end of Margery's little beach. For a few moments she did not know he was there, so engrossed was her mind with the far-away shadows on the lake, and with the piece of bread and jam she held in her hand. "Oh, happy Fates!" he exclaimed. "How have ye befriended me!
Marshall had told him that Margery's father would be around to see his father that evening. "Is the child dead?" demanded old Lizzie, holding Patience on one arm while Lydia clung to the other. "She was able to walk upstairs," said a neighbor. "It's just Mrs. Marshall's way, you know." "I'll way her," snorted Lizzie. "Fine thanks to Lydia for saving the child.
Francis passed through the entrance and closed the door after her just as the rapping came again with renewed vigor. "What, ho inside!" came a voice. "Give entrance, whosoe'er ye be, else it will be made by force." "Now who be ye who would seek admittance to the house of a white witch?" asked Dame Margery's shrill voice.
You can hand her out the window and let me visit her, if I can't see Lois." It was a raw December day and none of the Callahan children were playing, as usual, in front of the little brown house. The sewing-machine was rattling away at such furious speed that Miss Margery's knock at the door was unheard. The Charity lady hesitated a moment.
As I had hoped to find them, the saddles were hung upon the branches of the nearest trees, Margery's horse-furnishings among them. At first the black mare was shy of me, but a gentling word or two won her over, and she let me take her by the forelock and lead her deeper into the herd where I could saddle and bridle her in greater safety. My plan to cut her out was simple enough.
"You certainly cannot blame our enemy for this accident," declared Jane. "I wonder if he did push Tommy over?" Margery's eyes were large as she voiced the question. "Nonsense!" retorted Harriet Burrell. "Yes. That's what I say," agreed Miss Elting. "I suppose she will lay it to me," chuckled the guide. "Yeth, I ought to," nodded Tommy. "But we agreed not to fight any more, didn't we?"
They thought that Tom would come in to relieve this impatience, but he did not appear. "Come, dearest, come! we must go down to the beach," said Mrs Askew, taking Margery's hand. Their cloaks and hats were soon put on, and together they hastened down to the shore, where they saw a group of men, with Tom in the midst. In spite of the rain driving in their faces, they pressed on.
Our grand-uncle Im Hoff had left me his house and the conduct of his trade, as you have learned already from Margery's little book; and during my long journeyings many matters had not been done to my contentment, and the sick old man had taken out overmuch moneys from the business.
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