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Updated: June 29, 2025
The pleased, bright look of anticipation had altogether now left his face; it was careworn, the brow slightly puckered, and many lines of care and age showed round the lips. "I will just go upstairs and wash my hands," said Dr. Maybright. "Then I will join you in the dining-room."
"We don't know them yet, so of course we don't love them, but we wish them to come here, because we wish for their money. It will be eight pounds a week; just what you spend on the house, you know, father." "What a little economist!" said Dr. Maybright, stretching out his hand and drawing Polly to him.
Maybright had eight children, and the sweetest and most attractive wife of any man in the neighborhood. He had a considerable country practice, was popular among his patients, and he and his were adored by the villagers, for the Maybrights had lived in the neighborhood of the little village of Tyrsley Dale for many generations. Dr.
For three or four generations the Maybright family had lived at Sleepy Hollow, which was the name of the square gray house, with its large vegetable garden, its sheltered clump of forest trees, and its cultivated flower and pleasure grounds. Here, in the old nursery, Polly had first opened her bright blue-black eyes; in this house Dr.
On the other hand, he gives me a prescription which he thinks and hopes will avert the danger." "What is it? Oh! father, you will surely try it?" "If you and the others will help me." "But what is it?" Dr. Maybright stroked back Polly's curls. "Very little anxiety," he said. "As much rest as possible, worries forbidden, home peace and rest largely insisted upon. Now run away, my dear.
"Had better have a little of this stale bread-and-butter then, dear?" proceeded Polly in a would-be anxious tone. "Yes, if you will, dear. But you never like stale bread-and-butter." "I'll eat it if you wish me to, Helen," answered Polly, in a very meek, good little voice. The two boys began to chuckle, and even Dr. Maybright looked at his second daughter in a puzzled, abstracted way.
Maybright had died, and the others were accustomed to Helen's taking her place, but the scene was new to the poor, sore-hearted child who now come in. Dr. Maybright felt her faltering steps, and knew what her sudden pause on the threshold meant. "Be brave, dear," he whispered. "You will make it easier for me." After that Polly would have fought with dragons rather than shed a ghost of a tear.
"I think," she added, choking as she spoke, "that was what quite broke Polly down losing mother, and losing faith in your power at the same time." "I am glad you told me this, Helen," said Dr. Maybright, quietly. "This alters the case. In a measure I can now set Polly's heart at rest. I will see her presently."
Andrew, I wash my hands of your affairs. Daisy, take your diamond. At least, my little precious dog, I have recovered you. We return to Bath by the next train." "Helen, here's a letter." "Yes. Who is it for?" "I think it's for us all. See: 'the Misses Maybright and Miss Dalrymple." "Well, where's Flower? We can't open it till Flower comes down. It must be yes, it must be about father!
"Presently" did not mean that day, nor the next, nor the next, but one beautiful summer's evening just when the sun was setting, and just when its long low western rays were streaming into the lattice-window of the pretty little bower bedroom where Polly lay on her white bed, Dr. Maybright opened the door and came in.
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