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Updated: May 6, 2025
Marshall's words, for he was plunged into a brown study until the party had left Mr. Marshall sitting gloomily as before and were resuming the march. Then, out of earshot of the cabins and mill, he suddenly slapped his buckskin thigh and uttered an exclamation. "By jings!" he said. "I have it and those three fellows had it, too. We've overrun 'em.
During the autumn, the boxwood playhouse had been a place of delight to her and Dunlop and Arthur. Now, after a spring cleaning patterned after Mrs. Marshall's, she and Honey-Sweet again took up quarters there.
There were external difficulties in dealing with such a subject apart from those inherent in a great biography, and Marshall's volumes proved to be a general disappointment.
My job is insecure because the white union wants it and does not want me. I try to lunch, but no place near will serve me. I go forty blocks to Marshall's, but the Committee of Fourteen closes Marshall's; they say white women frequent it. "Do all eating places discriminate?" No, but how shall I know which do not except I hurry home through crowds. They mutter or get angry. I go to a mass-meeting.
"You are weak and foolish, Jane," her husband said, in a half-offended tone. "In many things I know that I am," was Mrs. Marshall's reply, "but not in this. A wife who loves her husband and children as tenderly as I do mine, cannot but tremble when fears are suddenly awakened that the footsteps of a deadly enemy are approaching her peaceful dwelling."
Rob made up a verse about it, which he sang so often to tease Johnny that the first note was enough to make the child bristle up for a fight: "This is the patchwork all forlorn, Made by the boys in Marshall's barn. The dog and the cat and even the rat Had a hand in that A hand in the Quilt that Jack built!" "You needn't make fun of it," said Rhoda one day.
Presently the judge stole to Marshall's side. "Tell me that I misunderstand you!" he whispered in entreaty, resting a tremulous hand on his son's arm. But the latter was bitterly resentful. His father had forced this confession, from him, he had given him no choice! "Why should I tell you that now?" he asked, as he roughly shook off his father's hand.
That ceremony over, they watched with kindling eyes the sharp drill of Marshall's troop; that soldierly young commander, one may feel well assured, showing his men, his horses, and himself off to the best of his ability, as who would not have done under such scrutiny as that. Loomis was with them, but Elinor drove, for her father had urgent business, he said, and must remain at his office.
When Madame Laurin had gone, Grandmother Marshall looked at Little Joyce. "Come to my room, Joyce. I want to see if we cannot find a more becoming way of arranging your hair. It has grown so thick and long. I had no idea how thick and long. Yes, we must certainly find a better way than that stiff braid. Come!" Little Joyce, taking Grandmother Marshall's extended hand, felt very happy.
Bingham experienced a personal interest in Marshall's maintenance of the foothold thus won.
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