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Updated: May 10, 2025
"How are you, Miss Stella?" she cried, kissing the thin cheek cordially. "I've already heard about that dress. Winnie Mayfield helped Mary pick out the cloth and trimmings, and she said you would make it the sweetest thing in the valley. Pink is my color. Where is oh!" She had descried it as it lay on the bed, and with hands clasped in delight, she sprang toward it.
"It's no mistake," said Jeff hoarsely. "Go!" he said, turning to the vaquero, "go! bring " But his speech failed. He attempted to gesticulate with his hands, ran forward a few steps, staggered, and fell fainting on the ground. "Help me with the caballero into the blue room," said Miss Mayfield, white as Jeff. "And hark ye, Manuel! You know every ruffian, man or woman, on this road.
For Miss Mayfield, deprecating slaughter in the abstract, accepted its results gratefully, like the rest of her sex, and while willing to "let the hart ungalled play," nevertheless was able to console herself with its venison.
In that brief time, failing to get at any further facts regarding Jeff's life, or perhaps reading the story quite plainly, Miss Mayfield had twittered prettily about herself.
Then he stopped, for not a hundred yards distant sat Miss Mayfield on a mossy boulder, her cloak hanging from her shoulders, her hands clasped round her crossed knees, and one little foot out an exasperating combination of Evangeline and little Red Riding Hood in everything, I fear, but credulousness and self-devotion.
It was simply one of those unpleasant details not affecting the result, usually overlooked in feminine ethics. For a moment Jeff sat pale and dumb, crushed under the ruins of his pride and self-love. For a moment he hated Miss Mayfield, small and triumphant! How she must have inwardly laughed at his speech that morning!
"Yes," Tom declared, "signs are very impressive. Fellow made a few at me once and when he got through I found he'd knocked me down." "Knocked you down!" cried Lou. "Oh, how could anybody knock you down?" Mrs. Mayfield looked at Jim. "How charming to be a hero in the sight of a beautiful eye." Jim drooped and said: "Yes'm."
I'm like that naughty boy in the story-book, who went round to all the animals, in turn, asking them to play with him. He could only find the butterfly who had nothing to do. I don't wonder he was disgusted. I hate butterflies." Love clarifies the intellect! Jeff, astonished at himself, burst out, "Why, look yer, Miss Mayfield, the butterfly only hez a day or two to to to live and be happy!"
"Oh, Aunt Madge, I have had such a splendid time," were Olivia's first words when she went round to Mayfield Villas on the morning after her return. "Greta has been such a dear, she has thoroughly spoilt me; but the loveliest time of all was the week Marcus spent with us." "You look the very essence of a sunbeam, Livy," returned Mrs.
As she slipped her little hand over his sleeve, he began, apologetically and nervously, "When I said that about Aunt Sally, miss, I" The hand immediately became limp, the grasp conventional. "I was mad, miss," Jeff blundered on, "and I don't see how you believed it knowing everything ez you do." "How knowing everything as I do?" asked Miss Mayfield coldly.
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