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Updated: May 9, 2025
She's come home here not a mite stuck-up, not flirty nor silly nor top-lofty, but just as sensible and capable and common-folksy as ever she was, and that's sayin' somethin'. If our Rena turns out to be the girl Mary-'Gusta Lathrop is I WILL be proud of her, and don't you forget it!" Which terminated conversation in the Mullet family for that evening. But if the few, like Mrs.
And, moreover, kept on playing it to the finish unless the catch was pushed back again. To Mary-'Gusta that chair was a perpetual fascination. She had been expressly forbidden to touch it, had been shut in the dark closet more than once for touching it; but, nevertheless, the temptation was always there and she had yielded to that temptation at intervals when Mrs.
And Captain Shad, who had bought those chessmen at Singapore from the savings of a second mate's wages, lost patience entirely. "Didn't I tell you young-ones not to go into that parlor?" he demanded. "Yes, sir," admitted Mary-'Gusta, contritely. "Yes, by fire, I did! And you went just the same." "Yes, sir." "And you fetched that everlastin' er Goliath in there, too.
Hallett's tone was subdued at the present time, but a trifle of the professional "soothiness" was lacking. He and Mrs. Hobbs were conversing briskly enough and, although Mary-'Gusta could catch only a word or two at intervals, she was perfectly sure they were talking about her.
"Oh, yes, you do. And you know about Mary-'Gusta too. He says she's a peach, Daddy." "Humph!" grunted her brother, indignantly. "Well, she is one. She's got every girl in your set skinned a mile for looks. But I don't know anything about her, of course." Mrs. Keith broke in. "Skinned a mile!" she repeated, with a shudder. "Sam, what language you do use!
That's what the rest of us do." Mary-'Gusta obediently washed in the tin basin and rubbed her face and hands dry upon the roller towel behind the closet door. "Am I late for breakfast?" she asked, anxiously. "No, I guess not. Ain't had breakfast yet. Cap'n Shad's out to the barn 'tendin' to the horse and Zoeth's feedin' the hens. They'll be in pretty soon, if we have luck.
Heave ahead and let's do it. Ah, hum! I cal'late we'd ought to be thankful we've got work to do, Zoeth. It'll help take up our minds. There are goin' to be lonesome days for you and me, shipmate." There were lonely days for Mary-'Gusta also, those of that first month at Mrs. Wyeth's and at the Misses Cabot's school. For the first time in her life she realized what it meant to be homesick.
"Seemed to me we'd ought to had one of them music box chairs. I'd like to have put it under that Keith woman and seen her face when the Campbells started to come. Ho, ho!" "What in the world made you think of that?" demanded his partner. "Oh, I don't know. Thinkin' about Mary-'Gusta, I cal'late, set me to rememberin' how we fust met her and about Marcellus's funeral and all.
Pinckney Street was on the hill in the rear of the Common and the State House and was narrow and crooked and old-fashioned. "What in the world are we doing up here?" queried Mary-'Gusta. "There aren't any wholesale houses here, I'm sure. Haven't you made a mistake, Uncle Shad?"
"When it's time for the critter to come off the nest you'll see what's been hatched same as the rest of us. How'd you like that Mrs. Wyeth? Had a pretty sharp edge on her tongue, didn't she?" Mary-'Gusta considered. "Yes," she answered; "she was outspoken and blunt, of course. But she is a lady a real lady, I think and I'm sure I should like her very much when I knew her better.
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