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Updated: June 10, 2025
"Why, when we were in school half the room used to be talking about how you and that pretty Milla " "No, no!" Ramsey protested, again too hurriedly. "I never called on her. We just went walking." A moment later his colour suddenly became fiery. "I don't mean I mean " he stammered. "It was walking, of course I mean we did go out walking but it wasn't walking like like this."
But finally the brightness of the sky between the leaves settled matters for him; he sneezed, wept, and for a little moment again faced his fellowmen. No one was looking at him; everybody except Milla had other things to do. Having sneezed involuntarily, he added a spell of coughing for which there was no necessity. "I guess I must be wrong," he muttered thickly. "What about, Ramsey?"
"Yes, look at mine!" was the quick reply, while on the other side stood a little girl who exclaimed, in surprise, "Oh, Milla, my dress has a pocket, and see what I found," as she drew out a rag doll two inches long. Then a dozen other little girls instituted a search and found similar treasures, which I recognized as coming from certain little girls in Hudson, Michigan.
An' da kep' me in de kitchen wid Aunt Milla, de cook, to watch me. It 'peared like I's goin' down into a horrible place of awful soun's an' rattlin' of chains; an' I prayed mightily for help, an' Jesus reached down an' took my han' an' lifted me up to a glorious palace so beautiful, an' every thing was light. Steps seemed built out of light, somehow made into sub'sance, I can't 'escribe it.
No. 35. Tuesday, April 10, 1711. Addison. 'Risu inepto res ineptior milla est. Mart. Among all kinds of Writing, there is none in which Authors are more apt to miscarry than in Works of Humour, as there is none in which they are more ambitious to excell.
He turned cold as his imagination projected a sketch of his mother in the act of reading this missive, and of her expression as she read the sentence: "It is the sweetest thing now you are mine and I am yours forever kiddo." He wished that Milla hadn't written "kiddo." She called him that, sometimes, but in her warm little voice the word seemed not at all what it did in ink.
He cared not whither, so that his feet took him in any direction away from Milla, since they were unable to take him away from himself of whom he had as great a horror. Her loving face was continually before him, and its sweetness made his flesh creep. Milla had been too sweet.
While I stood lookin' up to de clouds, huntin' for God, I hear a sweet soft voice say, 'Chile, pray. I look all 'mong de tree- tops, to see who's thar, an' it say, 'Chile, pray, again. An' I was sure somebody up in de tree-tops, an' I got scared, an' drop my armful of wood, an' run to Aunt Milla, all out o' bref. 'What ails you, Phil? What's the matter? she said.
"Why not?" "Milla ain't there," said Albert, still searching the pockets of his coat. "When we went by her house last night to tell her about your headache and stomach and all, why, her mother told us Milla'd gone up to Chicago yesterday afternoon with her aunt, and said she left a note for you, and she said if you were sick I better take it and give it to you.
After toiling all day for their masters they crept stealthily into this back alley, each with a bundle of pitch-pine splinters for lights. Milla Granson, the teacher, learned to read and write from the children of her indulgent master in her old Kentucky home.
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