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Updated: June 10, 2025
And be sure to let me find a letter in 'Rockport' when I get back. I'll be so lonely up there." "Well, find some pretty girl and let her kill time for you." "Will you and Judson kill time down here?" "Ugh! no," Marjie shivered in disgust. "I can't bear the sight of his face any more." "Good! I'll not try to be any more miserable by being bored with somebody I don't care for at Topeka.
Be patient. It's goin' to be all right for you two." He closed the book and put it back in its place. "But I mustn't stay here. I've got to tag Lettie some more. Her an' some others. That's what my tin days' vacation's fur, mostly." And O'mie leaped through the bushes and was gone. The twilight was deepening when Marjie at last roused herself.
Whately's face was beaming, for she felt somehow that my father could help her out of any tangle, and if he should advise Marjie to this step, it would surely be the right thing for her to do. "All right, mother, I'll be there," Marjie answered. The hours since she found that precious letter had been alternately full of joy and sadness.
Quickly came the reply in a voice Marjie knew too well, although the tone was unlike any she had ever heard before. "I hate Rockport; I did not tell you so when I left last Spring, but I hated it then." Swiftly across the listener's mind swept the memory of my words. "If you ever hear me say I don't like 'Rockport' you will know I don't care for you."
She's got the money, and Phil would become a fortune. Besides, she was perfectly infatuated with him." "Well," somebody else asserted, "if he does marry her, he can bring her back here to live. My! but Judge Baronet's home will be a grand place to go to then. It was always good enough." Amid all this clatter Marjie was as indifferent and self-possessed as if my name were a stranger's.
It was a man, Philip Baronet, who followed them home that dark night, fearing neither the roar of the angry storm cloud that threshed in fury above us, nor any human being, though he were filled with the rage of madness. At O'mie's word I dashed after Marjie. Behind me came Bud Anderson and Dave Mead, followed by every other boy and girl. O'mie rode beside me, and not one of us thought of himself.
In August the war broke out. Leonard had been in training and at the front from the first. Marjorie crossed the precarious ocean, to be in England for his first leave. It was now May: they were to be married at last. "Marjie." "Len." "I have just four days, you know, darling. That's all I could get. We've been transferred to the Dardanelles; else I wouldn't have got off at all."
"O'mie, you heard Dr. Hemingway's prayer last night?" Marjie asked, in a voice that quivered with tears. "Oh, good God! Marjie, the men that's fighting the battles on the frontier, the fire-guards around them prairie homes, they are the salt of the earth." He dropped his head between his hands and groaned. Presently he rose to say good-night. "Shall I do it, little sister?
I told him so when he was asked to urge me to marry Amos." "He urge you to marry Amos! Now Marjie, girl, I hate to be hard on the gentleman; but if he did that it's my duty to scalp him, and I will go home and do it." But Marjie explained.
"I'll bet I'm jutht a Injun mythelf." "Then you've got some little baby girl's scalp," grinned Jim Conlow. "'Tain't no 'pothum'th, anyhow," rejoined Bud; and we laughed our fears away. That evening Aunt Candace sent me home with Marjie to take some fresh doughnuts to Mrs. Whately.
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