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Updated: April 30, 2025
"We know that you are the dearest, nicest girl ever, but you are going to waste your time if you try to go exploring for Mignon's better self. She never had one. If you try to be nice to her she'll just take advantage of your goodness and make fun of you behind your back. Let me tell you something. You know Miss Elkins, who sews for people. Well, she's at our house to-day.
That elaborate description of Mignon's funeral so carefully arranged by the Aesthetic "Uncle," has it not all the curious qualities of the Goethean vein its clairvoyant insight into the under-truth of Nature its cold-blooded pre-occupation with "Art" its gentle irony its mania for exact detail?
The days following the final break in the friendship between the two sophomores were dark indeed for Marjorie. The tale of Mignon's stormy outbreak at her party had been retailed far and wide. It furnished material for much speculative gossip among the students of Sanford High School, and, as is always the case, grew out of proportion to truth with each subsequent recital.
When, however, he recognized Mignon's voice, he understood it all and went off, raging at this new obstacle, driven to extremities, bent on some violent act. Georges passed through a little door of which he had the key, slipped along the staircase walls and went quietly up into Nana's room. Only he had to wait for her till past midnight.
The aunt and sister of the Duc d'Herouville confirmed in the aristocratic salons of Bayeux Monsieur Charles Mignon's right to the title and arms of count, derived from Cardinal Mignon, for whom the Cardinal's hat and tassels were added as a crest.
I don't know what it's all about, but I do know that this," she touched the small, shining object, "shall never help them solve their problem." On the morning following Mignon's visit to Miss Archer's office, Marjorie was unpleasantly startled to hear Miss Merton call out stridently just after opening exercises, "Miss Dean, report to Miss Archer, at once."
"What do you want?" inquired an angry voice. "We wish to come in, Mary," was Mrs. Dean's even response. There was a muttered exclamation, a hurry of light feet, then the door was flung open. "You can come in for all I care," was Mary's rude greeting. "You might as well know now that I'm not going to live here after to-night. I'm going to Mignon's house to live."
"Girls, did you see Mignon's face when Connie was singing?" began Muriel Harding, as soon as they were out of earshot of any possible participants in the try-out. "Did we see it? Well, I guess so." Jerry made prompt answer. "At least, I did. While Connie was singing I was dividing my seeing power between her and the fair but frowning Mignon. Maybe she wasn't mad!
"Oh, she was invited to luncheon at her friend Mignon's home," returned Mrs. Dean, frowning slightly. "I suppose she is hoping that Mignon's team will win the game this afternoon." "I suppose so," returned Marjorie absently. Her mind was still on her discovery. Should she tell Captain about it? Perhaps it would be best. Briefly she acquainted her mother with what she had so recently found out.
And so, my friend," she added, turning her blind face toward Butscha; "you can begin at once to negotiate with Latournelle." "He's of legal age, twenty-five and a half years. As for me, it will be paying a debt, my boy, to make the purchase easy for you," said the notary. Butscha was kissing Madame Mignon's hand, and his face was wet with tears as Modeste opened the door of the salon.
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