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Updated: May 12, 2025
"I don't suppose any of you can guess why our hired man wanted to help my cousin, Minta Glenwood Lovejoy, with the dishes. I couldn't, even after I saw that he was so fond of the job that he could hardly wait until the supper was cleared away and it was ready for him.
"I don't suppose any of you can guess why our hired man wanted to help my cousin, Minta Glenwood Lovejoy, with the dishes. I couldn't, even after I saw that he was so fond of the job, that he could hardly wait until the supper was cleared away and it was ready for him.
She looked down the notes of her cases, satisfied herself that her bag contained all she wanted, and then hastily tied on her bonnet and cloak. Suddenly the room was empty, for Minta had just gone away with the tea by a kind of subtle reaction, the face in that photograph on Hallin's table flashed into her mind its look the grizzled hair.
She had taken off her nurse's dress and apron, and had put on something loose and white that hung about her in cool folds. But Minta Hurd, who had just brought in the tea, looked at her disapprovingly. "Whatever are you so late for?" she asked a little peevishly. "You'll get ill if you go missing your dinner." "I couldn't help it, Minta, it was such a bad case." Mrs.
"No human being has the right to rob her of herself through that last hour." And tenderly she coaxed Minta to take the doctor's "medicine." Minta swallowed it submissively, asking no questions. But the act of taking it roused her for the time, and she would talk. She even got up and tottered across to Willie. "Willie! Willie! Oh! look, miss, he's got his animals he don't think of nothing else.
She gathered together all the newspapers that were debating the case, and feverishly read every line; she wrote to Wharton, commenting on what she read, and on his letters; she attended the meetings of the Reprieve Committee which had been started at Widrington; and she passed hours of every day with Minta Hurd and her children.
An hour and a half later Minta came in again as she had been told. Daisy had slipped away, but Marcella was still lying in the perfect gentleness and relaxation of sleep. "You said I was to come and wake you," said Minta, drawing up the blind; "but I don't believe you're a bit fit to be going about. Here's some hot water, and there's a letter just come."
Wharton listened a while to her talk with Minta, smiled a little, unperceived of Marcella, at the young mother's docilities of manner and phrase; then turned his attention to the little hunched and coughing object by the fire. "Are you very bad, little man?" The white-faced child looked up, a dreary look, revealing a patient, melancholy soul. He tried to answer, but coughed instead.
Why do yer let that boy out so late?" And opening the door he stood on the threshold looking up and down the village street, while Minta once more gave up the struggle, dried her eyes, and told herself to be cheerful. But it was hard. She was far better born and better educated than her husband.
He had thought the matter at first too dangerous to touch. Moreover, he was at that moment in a period of transition, pestered by Minta to give up "the poachin'," and yet drawn back to it after his spring and summer of field work by instincts only recently revived, after long dormancy, but now hard to resist. Presently he turned with anger upon one of Minta's wails which happened to reach him.
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