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Updated: July 6, 2025
That was good news, at any rate, for I supposed him to have returned to Spanish Town, perhaps to make preparations for his wedding, and it must be four or five days at earliest before he could be back. "And when is Mistress Lucy's birthday?" I asked. "Missy's bufday Friday, Massa, but oughter be Fursday." "What do you mean?"
A sudden remembrance clutched at Missy's ecstatic reply; the shine faded from her eyes. But mother, engrossed, didn't observe; more deeply she sank her unintentional barb. "No," she mused aloud, "a garland of little rosebuds would be better, I believe-tiny delicate little buds, tied with a pink bow."
"'Tis a bonny babe," she said. "Ef I was you, Pat, I wouldn't stir Missy's soup. I'd give her your own bowl. I has no quarrel with Miss, and the babe is fair. Give her your own soup, Patrick." "It's all right, mother, Miss wouldn't eat as much as in my bowl. You ain't 'ungry enough for that, be you, Miss?" "I am very hungry," said Flower, who was gratefully drinking the hot liquid.
She boasted of her ability to stoop over and, without bending her knees, to lay both palms flat on the floor. Even Missy's mother couldn't do that, and sometimes she seemed to grow a little tired of being reminded of it.
"The Romance of King Arthur" was a fascinating book, and Missy was amazed that, up to this very summer, she had passed by the rather ponderous volume, which was kept on the top shelf of the "secretary," as uninteresting-looking. Uninteresting! It was "The Romance of King Arthur" that, this July afternoon, lay open on Missy's lap while she minded the baby in the summerhouse.
"Young girls try to act like hoodlums deliberately TRY! In my day girls were trained to be and desired to be little ladies." Little ladies! in the minister's presence, the phrase didn't fall pleasantly on Missy's ear. "Oh, they don't mean any harm," he replied. "Just a little innocent frolic." There was a ghost of a twinkle in his eyes.
So Tess snapped off a peach-tree switch and, finally cornering the pony, proceeded to use it. Missy pleaded, but Tess stood firm for discipline. However Gypsy revenged herself; for two hours she wouldn't let Tess come near her she'd sidle up and lay her velvet nose against Missy's shoulder until Tess was within an arm's length, and then, tossing her head spitefully, caper away.
The wonderful trip she had already lived through, in vivid prospect, a hundred times! Oh, mother couldn't be so cruel! But Missy's face dropped alarmingly. "Now, mamma," began father, "I wouldn't-" "I mean every word of it," reaffirmed mother with the voice of doom. "No grades, no holiday. Missy's got to learn balance and moderation. She lets any wild enthusiasm carry her off her feet.
They were big and shining eyes, and when she made them appealing they had been known to work wonders with father and mother and other grown-ups, even with the austere Professor Sutton. But this burly figure in the baggy blue uniform had a face more like a wooden Indian than a human grown-up and an old, dyspeptic wooden Indian at that. Missy's eyes were to avail her nothing that hour.
Making such a spectacle of herself! her own daughter, whom she'd tried to train to be a lady! This feature of the situation seemed to stir mother almost more violently than the flagrant disobedience. "It's all that O'Neill girl," said Aunt Nettie. "Ever since she came here to live, Missy's been up to just one craziness after another." Mother looked out the window and sighed.
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